Read Online The Patriot Bride by Carolyn Faulkner - Free Book Online Page A

her, and somehow Hannah knew that wasn’t good – besides the fact that it was insulting. She was holding a gun on him, and yet he was getting undressed as if nothing was amiss, removing his uniform coat and brushing it off with his hand, then hanging it in the garter robe. He took the ribbon from his hair almost absently and dropped it on his night table, then sat down on the bed with his back to her, to reach down and pull of his spit shined black boots.
    Hannah’s arms were beginning to shake from the stress of holding the gun rather than fear of confronting this overbearing man. And, beyond a brief flare of what seemed to be much more chagrin than fear when he’d first seen her sitting there, he didn’t seem to be in the least concerned about his own safety.
    “I want you to open the door and tell the guard outside to have all of my things brought back to Mrs. Wentworth’s cabin, and then I want you to leave me alone. I never want to hear from you or see you again. I’m quite certain you can find some other woman who would be more than willing to marry you.” Why did that idea cause a pang in her chest at the mere thought?
    Apparently her words were falling on deaf ears, because he hadn’t changed what he was doing. Each article of his clothing was meticulously folded or hung exactly where it belonged, and when he finally did turn and face her, after never having acknowledged that she’d even spoken, he was completely – and magnificently, she had to admit – nude.
    And coming right for her, slowly and deliberately, not watching her, but watching the gun instead, which had wavered quite considerably from where she’d held it originally. Most of the time now, it was pointed harmlessly at the ground.
    Hannah struggled to lift the muzzle of the gun to his chest, but now, besides the shaky weariness and pain in her arms, she had to deal with the sight of her first naked man, and she wasn’t handling it well. That part of him that was most male was practically at eye level, and she found herself intensely curious about it, despite her fear and embarrassment.
    He was going to win. He always won. He was bigger and stronger and faster and a whole lot meaner. So much for nobility and chivalry, Hannah thought with a sigh. He was going to take the gun from her, and Lord knew what he was going to do to her then. Figuring that she was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t, she pulled the trigger, just as her arms were collapsing and he was reaching towards the barrel of the gun.
    The explosion knocked Hannah back in her chair, and the bullet nicked the fleshy side of Wolf’s left hand – she’d veered away from his right hand, which had been stretched out to grab the gun. He didn’t even flinch or adjust his stride, didn’t even acknowledge that he’d been shot or cringe from the loud report. He just kept coming, until he had the gun firmly in his hand and out of hers, then in one fluid motion he lifted her up and deposited her on the bed. “Stay!” he commanded and, this time, she didn’t even consider doing anything other than what she was told. She was too shell shocked to think of anything else, exhausted from the jitters over what she’d planned and executed, badly.
    Someone – several someones – were banging loudly at the door, but he was unnervingly calm. He’d doused his wound in the bay rum he favored as an aftershave, then commandeered one of her petticoats and ripped off one of the ruffles with his bare hands, wrapping it around his hand to stem the seeping blood. Only once he’d treated his hand as best he could and donned a silk robe did he open the door, letting his corporal and the innkeeper nearly fall into the room.
    “I’m sorry, gentlemen. I was showing my wife the finer points of shooting and neglected to tell her that the pistol was loaded. Of course, I’ll pay for any damages.”
    His little speech mollified the apoplectic innkeeper, but the soldier came in with his rifle at