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

eyed the suspended end of the manacle. “I’ll be uncomfortable with my wrists tied together. Will you please leave this the way it is? I promise I won’t run off.”
    He studied her for a minute, then casually picked up his knife to run a thumb down its edge. “You’ll sleep on the ground. And you’ll sleep with your wrists together. End of discussion.”
    A scathing remark was on the tip of her tongue, but she quelled it. She wanted to live to see morning’s light. So, once more the dangling manacle was locked to her free wrist.
    Afterward, he placed blankets near the dying fire, then pulled her down to the pallet. Yanking one of the covers over his bare shoulders, he turned his back. Within moments, she heard the soft cadence of his sleeping breath.
    She was restless. The ground was wet from dew; it soaked the covers. Gusts of night air feasted on her flesh. Her teeth chattered; she shivered. And this was no soft mattress. The ground was uneven and somewhat rocky, and all of it dug into her arms, her back, her hips, her legs. A bundle of misery–that’s what she was.
    For hours she listened to distant creatures on the prowl and howl. And she must have counted a million stars. Then she recalled Hawk’s kiss of the night before . . .
    Over and again, she made the cumbersome effort to roll and toss.
    â€œBe still,” Hawk grumbled in his sleep.
    â€œBut I’m uncomfortable.”
    She heard him sigh in exasperation. “You’ll get used to the Indian way of sleeping,” he said.
    â€œGet used to? How long do you intend to keep me?”
    â€œTill after your family pays the ransom.”
    â€œWhen . . . ? Have you approached them about it?”
    â€œYour papa will know soon enough.”
    â€œOh.”
    She had to admit that she’d been holding on to the hope that Hawk’s was some bizarre scheme hatched by Papa to bring her back into the fold. Not so. She blinked her suddenly burning eyes. How silly, harboring such a desire. Even if Papa were pining for the sight of her, he wouldn’t have sent an Indian to pluck her from the streets of Laredo!
    â€œI ... I’ve told you. He won’t pay.” Hurt clutched at her chest. “What will you do with me then?”
    Hawk sighed again, rolled to face her, then pulled her to him. He raised himself up to slant his lips over hers. “It all depends,” he murmured before stealing a kiss that lingered and lingered.
    Charity wanted to protest. At first. But his mouth made magic on hers. The brush of his hair against her collar elicited a shiver of excitement within her. His hands, oh, such warmth. Her own crossed hands were caught between her breasts and his chest, and her fingers flexed over his silver pendant . . . settling on the smooth, wall-strong planes of his naked flesh.
    It was wicked, the passion she felt. Olga would be shocked! But she had never sought her sister’s approval, so why worry about it now? Besides, making love with a savage brought back her daydreams of old. Daydreams of Fierce Hawk. But Hawk wasn’t her Osage brave. Here and now, it didn’t matter. Hawk was Hawk. And, dear providence, these magical hands, these blazing lips . . .
    She forgot how uncomfortable she had been just moments before.
    When Hawk finally released her to stare into her eyes, he said, “I want you, sweet Charity.”
    â€œI know.” She felt the physical indication of his need, hard at her thigh. Somehow a modicum of sense overtook her. “But I ... Oh, Hawk, don’t do this to me.”
    â€œWhy? Because you don’t want me?”
    What did she want, besides her freedom? At the moment, she had no idea. But she knew that everything flowing hot through her body shouted for this man. Yet . . . While she had done many horrid things in her life, and while her reputation lacked a lady’s credibility, she believed in keeping herself pure for marriage. The man