Bride of Shadow Canyon. Stacey Kayne

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СКАЧАТЬ soap for bathing? I found three bars in your saddlebags.”

      “I never said that.”

      “Yes, you did. You said you didn’t have enough to waste on a bath.”

      “No. I said I didn’t have any I’d let you use for a bath. I didn’t say there wasn’t enough.”

      She continued to glare at him over the fire. “Last night, when you walked down to the river, you bathed with soap. I could smell it.”

      “It’s my soap. What are you griping about? You helped yourself to all the lather you pleased while I was cooking. I can smell it from here.”

      “You lied.”

      Damn it! When he saw her sink into that freezing water, he knew this one would come back to bite him in the ass. He should have given her the damn soap. But he wasn’t about to admit it. He’d already apologized for shouting at her, which was more than she deserved, and what did she do, but throw it back in his face?

      Time to nip this in the bud, he thought, pushing his plate aside as he rose. He crouched in front of her, picked up her plate and held it out to her. “Rachell, if you don’t take this plate and eat your damn food, I’ll hold you down and feed you every last bite myself. That’s a promise.”

      If looks could kill, her devil eyes would have put him six feet under, but she took her plate and shoved a piece of tortilla into her mouth. “That a girl,” he said with a wide smile, patting her on the head before dodging her fist.

      “That just cost you a tortilla,” he said, snatching one from her plate as he stood. “Eat up. We’re leaving as soon as I saddle Sage.” He turned and strode off in the direction of his hobbled horse.

      

      She’s in a tizzy about something, Jed thought as he walked back into camp a short time later. Rachell’s face was flush with anger as she dug through his pack like a dog with its nose in a gopher hole, making one hell of a mess.

       What the hell?

      He felt a jolt of alarm when her hand emerged with a knife. At first he thought she might be planning to go after him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been attacked by his own bride. Malika had had one hell of a violent streak.

      Rachell reached around and grabbed a fistful of hair. Realizing she was about to cut it off, he ran into the clearing, grabbed her from behind and secured her hand just before she dragged the blade across the long red strands.

      “Let go!” she shrieked, twisting like a wild cat caught by the tail.

      “Damn it, woman! Stop before you slit your own throat!” Jed tightened his arm around her, restraining her movement. She was strong for such a tiny thing.

      “I’m going to cut my blasted hair!”

      “The hell you are,” he said, prying the knife from her hand. He tossed it back into his pack. His hands clamped over her shoulders, turning her to face him. “What the blazes is wrong with you?”

      She drew a ragged breath as she glared up at him, her cheeks flushed, her face creased with rage. “I’ve been without a brush for over a week. I can’t get the knots out.” Her green eyes glistened with moisture as she forced each word through clenched teeth. She tried to twist from his grip. Unsuccessful, she lowered her head, struggling to conceal her tears as they spilled down her cheeks.

      This was a woman clearly near her breaking point. He didn’t need a half-cracked lunatic on his hands. Jed was tempted to pull her into his arms, sure the emotions she was trying to cap off would rush to the surface in a heavy wave of tears, but he had a feeling her pride wouldn’t take such an emotional release in its stride. She definitely had some strong feelings against him seeing her cry. And he sure as hell didn’t need to be holding this woman in his arms.

      Spotting his brush on the ground by her feet, he picked it up. Keeping a hold on one wrist, he turned and led her to a patch of sunlight streaming through the surrounding trees. He sat down and tugged on her wrist. “Sit down.”

      She stood rigid in front of him, staring at him as though he were the one who’d lost his mind. He tugged her down in front of him and turned her so that she sat between his legs with her back to him.

      “It’s no use,” she ground out as he set the brush against her scalp. “Just cut it!”

      “I’ll do no such thing.” He eased the brush through her hair. She gasped when it snagged, gripping her head as though she expected him to muscle it through, ripping the hair from her scalp.

      “Move your hands. I won’t hurt you.”

      When she didn’t respond, he set the brush down and lifted her hands from her hair. She trembled as he crossed her arms over her stomach and held them there. He lowered his head, talking close to her ear. “Trust me. I can get the knots out without scalping you. Do you trust me not to hurt you?”

      Jerkily, she nodded her head. Jed released her and again took the brush. Rachell remained perfectly still as he pulled the coarse bristles through her damp hair. He took his knife from the scabbard at his waist and carefully cut out the stubborn knots that refused to be brushed loose.

      When he finally had her hair brushed free of snags, the thick auburn mane flowed across her back like a brilliant, beautiful wave of fire. Jed slid his fingers across the center of her scalp, separating the shimmering mass, revealing her long, slender, kissable neck.

      He pushed the two sections over her shoulders then called himself ten kinds of fool for doing something so stupid as running his fingers through the silken flames of her hair. Not just stupid, dangerous.

      Damn his ignorant hide. He shouldn’t be attracted to this little charlatan who’d caused him nothing but trouble. So why wasn’t that stopping him?

      “Are you braiding my hair?” she asked in a tone of disbelief.

      “Yes,” he said, annoyed to discover his voice was so thick, it clogged his throat. “This is a surefire way to keep those tangles out.” She sat perfectly still while his fingers worked the three strands into a long weave.

      “Did you braid your wife’s hair?”

      The question took Jed by surprise. Had he ever braided Malika’s hair? “No,” he answered a second later, certain Malika would never have allowed him the privilege of such an intimate task. “Just my own.”

      Her head whipped around, pulling the near-finished braid from his hand. She gazed up at him with wide eyes. “Your hair? Are you of Indian blood?”

      To his surprise, the question carried no negative implications. Pure curiosity sparkled in her eyes.

      “No. My sister married a Cherokee Indian when I was six. Laura died in childbirth a year later. I was raised by Shuhquoy.”

      “I’m sorry. Did the baby survive?”

      Jed shook his head.

      “How horrible.” Her shoulders slumped as she dropped her gaze toward her lap. “My mother died in childbirth with me,” she said in a quiet voice. “When I returned from the СКАЧАТЬ