Read Online Lone Star Loving by Martha Hix - Free Book Online Page A

fig into her mouth.
    From the corner of her eye, she watched as he reached for his cup of coffee. If the situation were different–if he wasn’t holding her for ransom and no telling what else–she might have been tempted to remark on his appeal.
    Curious about his motives, she asked, “Why are you in such desperate straits that you need to extort money?”
    Shaking his head, he glanced toward the heavens. “Never gives up, does she?” he muttered, then shifted his position and sat Indian-style.
    All sprawl-kneed like he was, how could Charity not gawk at him? Her eyes lowered to the soft breechclout draping between his legs. She would have to have been blind as Olga not to notice how the supple buckskin highlighted his hard male planes. Oh my, Charity’s face felt flushed, almost as if she had a fever.
    Gads!
    Gulping, she pulled herself together and back to conversation. “You don’t have to lower yourself to criminal means, Hawk. You could get a job. Why, as strong as you are, I’ll bet you’d make an excellent blacksmith.”
    â€œThink I’m pretty strong?” A look of hawk-got-the-prey spanned his longish face of high cheekbones and sensuous lips.
    â€œOf course you’re strong.” And handsome. She tried to divert her attention from the purely physical. “Can you read and write?”
    â€œWe’d better sleep now,” he said and poured coffee grounds into the fire.
    Poor thing. He was illiterate. And she had embarrassed him, she figured. That was why his face had turned to the night’s shadows. “Sleep is a good idea,” she said, eager to change the subject. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take the wagon bed.”
    â€œI mind. You’ll sleep beside me. Right here on the ground.”
    â€œI can’t sleep on the ground,” was her indignant reply. “I’ve never slept on the ground and I don’t intend to start now.”
    â€œThe grasses are soft, spoiled rich girl. And we’ve plenty of blankets. You won’t suffer.”
    Why argue the “spoiled rich girl” part? She had been spoiled, she had been rich, although, at barely twenty, she was no longer a girl. Rich, spoiled, broke, or desperate, she was what she was, so why try to disabuse his notions? “But I will suffer,” she protested. “I’m aching all over.”
    â€œDid you hurt yourself?”
    â€œOf course I did.” She liked what she heard in his deep, sonorous voice. “Last night, when I fell, I hurt, why, just about every bone in my body.” This was a bit much; she had no grievous injuries, after all. But she did enjoy seeing the look of concern on his face. “Remember?”
    â€œWhy didn’t you say something earlier?”
    â€œI’m saying it now.”
    His visual canvass went from her head to her toes and back again. “Do you have cuts that need tending?”
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    â€œI’d better take a look. You could get sick from an untended wound.”
    â€œWould it matter if I got sick?” She laughed nervously. “Oh wait a minute, I forgot–of course it would matter. You need me for the booty.”
    â€œRight. Only for the ransom.”
    â€œI’ve got to give you some credit, Hawk. I’m glad you didn’t lie.” Like Ian had. “Liars are the scum of the earth in my estimation.”
    Hawk smiled a tight, enigmatic smile. “I’m glad something about me pleases you. Now, lie down.”
    Ye lie down with dogs, ye get fleas. How many times had Maisie said that to Charity? Don’t be thinking about her. “Hawk, I will not sleep with you.”
    â€œI said, you’ll have the soft grasses and plenty of blankets. You won’t suffer.”
    Whining a bit–it had sometimes worked with her family—she pointed out, “But, Hawk, I’ve always been a restless sleeper.” She