Read Online Wanted by Patricia; Potter - Free Book Online Page A

and walked. Morgan had not insisted on the cursed leg irons, though the handcuffs stayed in place.
    Lori stifled a small groan as she tried to walk. She was accustomed to riding long distances, but she was not used to doing it on the rear end of a horse. As always, the Ranger watched them both with the single-minded intensity of a cat watching mice it intended to devour. He gave the horses a handful of oats and allowed them to drink slowly, and Lori knew he had more regard for them than he did for her brother, whom he treated with a practiced but wary indifference.
    The Ranger showed no sign of exhaustion, no lessening of the caution he’d practiced since the first time she’d seen him. Lori wondered whether he had one feeling bone in his body. Her eyes met his, held for an instant, and he turned from her. Nick was several feet away, his face a mask Lori couldn’t read. She sensed he wanted to spring at the Ranger, that he needed desperately to do something just to alleviate the tension in his body; but then his gaze found hers, and she watched him forcibly restrain himself.
    The Ranger saw it, too. Lori knew from the way his own muscles had tensed under the dark-blue cotton shirt he wore. “Time to go,” he said, his shadowed eyes a warning to them both.
    Nick shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
    The Ranger raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, merely followed Nick to his horse. The Ranger locked Nick’s wrists to the saddle horn again and then watched him mount before offering his finger-locked hands to Lori as a step up.
    And then Lori wondered whether he had made his first mistake. The reins to Nick’s horse were free. If only she could scoop them up, then Nick could make a dash for it. The Ranger’s horse was tied securely several feet away, her mare, Clementine, also secured on the lead to the Ranger’s bay. If only Nick’s hands weren’t chained to the saddle horn.
    Her gaze went down to the Ranger’s holster. She had to get his gun. She offered her left foot to him, prepared to throw herself on him and grab for the gun, but he was obviously ready for her.
    Morgan expected it. As her body moved toward his, he quickly twisted and she landed in his arms, her face just inches from his, his hands tight around her back and hips. This was the third time Morgan had found her unwillingly in his arms, and each time seemed to increase the heat that built inside a body he was usually so able to control.
    He held her just a trifle longer than necessary, and then he set her on her feet, his lips twisting into that half smile that suggested so little amusement. “An accident, Miss Lori?”
    She straightened and looked him straight in the eyes. “What do you think, after forcing me to ride on that horse’s backbone for a day and a half? Every part of me is stiff.”
    â€œThat so? Didn’t feel like it to me,” he drawled with his soft, slow Texas accent.
    Lori glared at him. “Are you going to help me or not?”
    â€œI don’t think so,” he said with the patient tone one uses with a child.
    He left her and tied the reins of Nick’s horse to the lead, then mounted his own horse. He turned back. “You think you can get up on your own, or do you want to walk awhile?”
    Lori turned to her brother, put her hand on his arm, which he stiffened, and used it to vault her left foot into the stirrup he relinquished. She settled down behind him.
    â€œI thought you could manage,” the Ranger said, then kicked his mount into a trot without waiting for an answer.
    Three hours later they rode into Laramie. Morgan still felt that damn internal fire that had bedeviled him those few seconds Lori Braden had twisted in his arms. Her face had been so close, her eyes wide and surprised and shadowed by dark lashes that contrasted with the honey-colored hair.
    He’d wanted to kiss her, dammit. He’d wanted it in the worst hellish way. He