Read Online Mustang Annie by Rachelle Morgan - Free Book Online

your. . . .” His gaze took a leisurely journey to her rear, then rose back up to her flushing face. “Assets.” His lips slid into a slow, sensual smile.
    Her eyes narrowed. The color in her cheeks deepened. “I would think for a man so hepped up on catchin’ his horses, he’d have more important things to do than sit around letting his gums flap and his eyes roam.”
    At the moment, Brett couldn’t think of any. “More important, maybe.” He saluted her with his cup. “But not nearly as pleasurable.”
    Her spine went rigid. She grabbed the buckskin’s bridle, swung into the saddle, and wheeled her horse around.
    Grinning at her hasty departure, he turned around, then came to a sudden stop at the sight of his men standing around in various stages of undress, their mouths agape, their lustful gazes on Annie’s disappearing figure.
    Brett’s good humor died. He whipped his revolver out of its holster and fired a shot into the air. “If you men aren’t on your horses in ten seconds, the next bullet will be between your beady little eyes.”
    No one called his bluff; within the ten allotted seconds, all hands were in their saddles and spurring their mounts out of camp.
    Brett reholstered his revolver and kicked dirt over the embers. Maybe bringing her into the outfit had been a mistake. This was only the second day on the trail, and already she had his blood sizzling and his imagination running wild.
    It had to stop. She wasn’t a concubine brought along to indulge his baser needs. She was a hired horse thief, whose sole purpose was to save his fillies from ruin—and it was best he keep that uppermost in his mind.
    Forgetting for an instant could mean the fall of the Triple Ace.

Chapter 6
    A s they headed south along the windswept plains, Annie kept as far away from Corrigan as possible. She didn’t know what disturbed her more about the way he’d been looking at her—the smoldering fire in his eyes or her own reaction to it. No man had made her stomach flutter or her skin tingle in years. Yet every time Corrigan looked at her, strange things happened to her insides.
    And every time she looked at him. . . .
    Annie swiped her kerchief across her brow. God, it was hot out here.
    â€œIs that true, Miss Annie?”
    She swung her attention to the right and found Dogie staring at her, brows raised in expectancy. This morning, when she’d seen him match up that crimson red shirt with a pair of plaid britches, her first thought had been a hope that they wouldn’t run into any bulls during the day’s traveling. Strangely enough, she’d gotten used to the color. It certainly matched his sunburned complexion. “Is what true?”
    â€œHenry was just telling us that him and your granddaddy once drove a herd of longhorns clear into Montana Territory.”
    She could neither confirm nor deny the claim, for even if she hadn’t been too young to accompany them, Granddad rarely told her and her mother where he went on his trips and it went against the grain to ask. “I expect if Mr. Henry said it, it’s true.”
    â€œ ’Course it’s true!” Henry cried. “Me an’ Ole Clovis had us plenty of adventures. Annie, did your granddaddy ever tell you about the time we had to drive a herd of mustangs from Dead Injun Creek to the rendezvous at Pease River?”
    Before she could reply, he launched into the tale. “Danged sandstorm whipped up a good froth, stinging our eyes and plugging our noses. Got us so turned around we didn’t know our As from our Zs.
    â€œWe ate dust for days. It was in our hair, our skin. We poured out boot-fulls of Texas at night. Finally we wound up at this tiny stream. Ole Clovis says he’s got to see a man about a horse and he disappears behind a set of bushes. Not two seconds later, he comes runnin’ through camp, hollerin’ at the top of