fawn jumped at the same time. “There it is!” Pointing excitedly, she watched until doe and fawn were well out of sight. Then she turned and smiled at Morgan, seeing him in a little different light. “You may have lost your memory, but your eyesight is just fine.” She clucked a few times, and the mare started up.
They rode along in comfortable silence. By the time Elaina had driven half the distance to the Colsons’, Morgan had begun to banter lightly with her.
“You didn’t tell me why you’re going to see the . . . Colsons, is it?”
“Yes. Little Johnny Colson has a fever, and Doc Wil-lowford’s over in Hazleton helping Dr. Montgomery deal with a catastrophe of some sort.”
“Maybe they found somebody else to shoot,” he teased, half serious.
She felt a stab of guilt. “There’s no one else around as unpopular as you . . . unless it’s Redmond and Dawson. It wasn’t a shooting. Firedamp, I think. That’s methane gas. Just a minor explosion this time. Killed a couple of men and injured a few others. Just doesn’t seem right somehow, the way those poor miners are treated. Somebody’s always getting killed in those damned mines.” She flushed at her use of the swearword. Just talking about the problems in the mines sent her into a fury.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so wound up.” She glanced away, keeping her eyes toward the edge of the road until she felt his hand gently turn her face toward his.
“I like a woman with spirit. You care about people. That’s nice. Don’t ever apologize for caring.” His fingers felt warm and strong against her cheek. He looked at her with what might have passed for admiration, his gaze steady, and she felt the heat in her cheeks begin to move through her body.
The wagon seat was narrow. Try as she might, she was forced to sit with her leg pressed firmly against his, feeling the corded muscles of his thighs, the heat radiating from where their legs touched to her private, woman’s place. No man had ever affected her so.
Elaina swallowed hard, trying to control her turbulent emotions. “That’s an odd remark,” she said, needing desperately to put some distance between them, “coming from a man who kills people for a living.” When Morgan stiffened, she wished she could call back the words. Or had she imagined that tiny stab of pain she had seen in his eyes?
The girl was right, he thought. Why would a gunman care about what happened to anyone else? According to the newspapers, he hired himself out to the highest bidder. A gunman wouldn’t give a whit for who was right or wrong, just who paid the most. So why had the girl’s burst of feeling for the miners touched him so deeply? And why did this coal country seem so familiar? As they passed between wooded hills and crossed meandering streams, he had the strangest feeling he’d been here before.
According to Redmond and Dawson, he’d been to Blue Mountain once; maybe that was it, but somehow he didn’t think so. He could almost imagine what lay at the end of a path or what town might lie just around a bend in the hills.
“You’re right,” he said, setting his jaw. “Why would a gunman care about anyone but himself?” Reaching over, he grabbed the horse’s reins and pulled the buggy to a halt. He noticed the girl’s bewildered expression as he tipped her chin up to capture her lips.
As his arms went around her to pull her close, her slim hands pushed against his chest. She struggled for a moment, but the rise and fall of her breasts and the tautness of her nipples straining against the fabric of her dress betrayed more than mere interest. He felt the familiar tightness in his breeches, and his resolve strengthened. Why indeed? He wanted this woman, and one way or another he was going to have her.
Elaina’s surprise turned to fury. How dare he! She renewed her efforts to struggle free and heard his husky gasp of pain as she struck his shoulder, but he didn’t release her.
They rode along in comfortable silence. By the time Elaina had driven half the distance to the Colsons’, Morgan had begun to banter lightly with her.
“You didn’t tell me why you’re going to see the . . . Colsons, is it?”
“Yes. Little Johnny Colson has a fever, and Doc Wil-lowford’s over in Hazleton helping Dr. Montgomery deal with a catastrophe of some sort.”
“Maybe they found somebody else to shoot,” he teased, half serious.
She felt a stab of guilt. “There’s no one else around as unpopular as you . . . unless it’s Redmond and Dawson. It wasn’t a shooting. Firedamp, I think. That’s methane gas. Just a minor explosion this time. Killed a couple of men and injured a few others. Just doesn’t seem right somehow, the way those poor miners are treated. Somebody’s always getting killed in those damned mines.” She flushed at her use of the swearword. Just talking about the problems in the mines sent her into a fury.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so wound up.” She glanced away, keeping her eyes toward the edge of the road until she felt his hand gently turn her face toward his.
“I like a woman with spirit. You care about people. That’s nice. Don’t ever apologize for caring.” His fingers felt warm and strong against her cheek. He looked at her with what might have passed for admiration, his gaze steady, and she felt the heat in her cheeks begin to move through her body.
The wagon seat was narrow. Try as she might, she was forced to sit with her leg pressed firmly against his, feeling the corded muscles of his thighs, the heat radiating from where their legs touched to her private, woman’s place. No man had ever affected her so.
Elaina swallowed hard, trying to control her turbulent emotions. “That’s an odd remark,” she said, needing desperately to put some distance between them, “coming from a man who kills people for a living.” When Morgan stiffened, she wished she could call back the words. Or had she imagined that tiny stab of pain she had seen in his eyes?
The girl was right, he thought. Why would a gunman care about what happened to anyone else? According to the newspapers, he hired himself out to the highest bidder. A gunman wouldn’t give a whit for who was right or wrong, just who paid the most. So why had the girl’s burst of feeling for the miners touched him so deeply? And why did this coal country seem so familiar? As they passed between wooded hills and crossed meandering streams, he had the strangest feeling he’d been here before.
According to Redmond and Dawson, he’d been to Blue Mountain once; maybe that was it, but somehow he didn’t think so. He could almost imagine what lay at the end of a path or what town might lie just around a bend in the hills.
“You’re right,” he said, setting his jaw. “Why would a gunman care about anyone but himself?” Reaching over, he grabbed the horse’s reins and pulled the buggy to a halt. He noticed the girl’s bewildered expression as he tipped her chin up to capture her lips.
As his arms went around her to pull her close, her slim hands pushed against his chest. She struggled for a moment, but the rise and fall of her breasts and the tautness of her nipples straining against the fabric of her dress betrayed more than mere interest. He felt the familiar tightness in his breeches, and his resolve strengthened. Why indeed? He wanted this woman, and one way or another he was going to have her.
Elaina’s surprise turned to fury. How dare he! She renewed her efforts to struggle free and heard his husky gasp of pain as she struck his shoulder, but he didn’t release her.
Similar Books
