Branded Hearts. Diana Hall

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СКАЧАТЬ thought. Each time he looked at Kit, a fresh rain fed those urges. He felt them taking root, pushing forward and growing stronger.

      Kit had to go. But he needed a few moments to brace himself for the confrontation and calm the fire in his gut.

      

      For centuries, the block of dark granite had battled the river, forcing the water to divert around its immovable mass. Unable to wash away the obstruction, the river pounded into the unyielding rock, until it gouged a Ushaped indentation. A perfect pool for a sheltered bath.

      Kit swam through the cool mountain water. She let her worries and concerns float away. Tension and weariness seeped from her bones but an undercurrent of caution remained. Would always remain until Jando died.

      Standing in waist-deep water, she watched the current tumble stones along the stream bottom. The rock and the river, neither willing to give up the battle. She and Garret, neither about to accept defeat. But nature had reached a compromise in forming the pool. There could be no such concession between herself and the rancher. To the bitter end, she would fight to stay, and give Hawk time to track down Jando.

      She emerged from the water, her hair plastered to her neck and back, and shivered as a breeze skipped across her skin. Her flannel shirt served as a towel first, then a robe. Lifting her mass of hair, she untangled it from her shirt collar to let it dry.

      Covered to her knees, she retrieved her pants from the scraggly branches of a juniper and wiggled into them. The cotton material clung to her still-damp body. She hopped up and down to work the jeans up her legs.

      Clean and refreshed, Kit slipped on her boots, then wrapped herself in the thick warmth of the serape. Leaning against the rough granite, she listened to the prairie.

      Crickets chirped. Fish splashed in the stream. Sweet grass whispered to the wind. The sharp, pungent smell of sage and juniper scented the breeze. Serenity floated away the last vestiges of her nightmare. She had to give Garret credit for choosing this spot to place his ranch. The Rockin’ G was an Eden.

      Like a mother tucking in her child, evening enveloped the rolling hills. The sun balanced on the mountain horizon. Stars dusted the sky, the twinkling lights pale in the twilight. Three radiant stars lined up low in the sky. Orion’s belt.

      Lightning bugs winked in the tall grass, and she heard the swish of prairie grass being stepped on. By habit, she placed a hand on the hilt of her knife. Steady footsteps thudded the ground, drawing nearer. She kept her voice smooth and unaffected by the approaching stranger. “Do you share an interest in astronomy or are you spying?”

      Garret Blaine rounded the tip of the boulder and stopped short. A small cowlick danced in the slight breeze. His full lips were pressed into a scowl, ready for an argument. “I want to talk with you.”

      “About astronomy?” Kit gave him a delightfully obtuse smile, meant to throw him off balance and give her time to regain hers. The fluttering in her heart started. Fingernails of fear dug into her soul. Swallowing hard, she refused to allow anything more than a casual facade to show. Words rambled from her mouth. “I prefer the myths that correlate with the constellations to the actual science.”

      The old dog sat on the rancher’s heels, his growl like the sound of a distant tornado.

      “What are you talking about?” Garret shook his head. He had been working the girl too hard, she was talking loco.

      “The stars.” She looped a strand of wet hair behind her ear and pointed toward the sky. “There’s so many, how could you miss them?”

      “I’ve seen stars.” Garret brushed away her comment while his gaze riveted on her appearance. Droplets of water hung like dew on her walnut-colored skin and glistened at the hollow of her throat. Ebony hair lay sleek and wet against the nape of her neck.

      Bathing! Out here. Alone. Didn’t the girl have a bit of sense? A timber wolf could have crept up on her. Or a lust-frenzied cowhand. Then what would she have done?

      As though reading his mind, she rubbed the hilt of her knife with her thumb.

      “I got a ranch to run,” Garret reminded her and himself. “I don’t have time to waste looking at the sky. Now, I want to talk to you—”

      “Never just a few spare minutes to enjoy your surroundings?” She taunted him with her clear azure gaze. “Come now, Mr. Blaine, a man doesn’t choose to build his home in this location without appreciating the beauty of it.”

      She didn’t waste kindling getting a fire started in the pit of Garret’s stomach. “Best place to put the cabin, there by the pines,” he said.

      “Oh, I agree.” That little half smile came back, along with his own longings. “Those evergreens make a tremendous windbreak, plus the scent is heavenly. And the river’s close enough to draw water from.”

      “I got a well, so come winter I don’t have to break river ice.” These few hundred acres were his life, his future. “I plan to keep building.”

      “Another corral? A smokehouse?”

      That thorn of discomfort stabbed deeper. Kit seemed to know what he was going to say before he did. Caution and surprise made him answer slowly, “Thinking about those and adding on to the cabin.”

      “The cabin?” Kit wrinkled her brow. “That seems rather extraneous. There’s only Cade and you. The bunkhouse is sufficient, even if you increase your employees.”

      Garret wasn’t quite sure what extraneous meant, but he could guess. “For right now. But with a good drive, I might be thinking of taking a wife.”

      Her eyebrows unfurled, one arched in a delicate dark line. “Taking a wife? Interesting choice of words, Mr. Blaine. And do you have an intended hostage selected?” Her tone implied she extended her deepest sympathy to his betrothed.

      “Abigail Benton.”

      “Ah, so you intend to marry for money.”

      “I do not. I can take care of my woman. If given the chance.”

      “So, you’re marrying her uncle, Sam Benton.”

      “Benton can open doors that are usually shut to the son of a saloon girl.”

      “And love?” Kit leaned back against the boulder. The action accentuated the graceful arch of her neck.

      “It’ll come,” Garret assured Kit. Abigail expected a man who would honor his vows and supply her with a fine home. In return, she would present him with a social standing in the community. Business, pure and simple. No cumbersome emotions to tangle up between them. “Abigail’s a fine woman.”

      “For a parlor room. She’ll make sure all your china matches, your silver is polished, and your household staff doesn’t cheat you.” Cocking her head toward his oneroom cabin, Kit snorted. “I can see now why you’ll need to add on, at least a wing for the kitchen staff.”

      “Now hold on.” Garret didn’t like the condescending tone Kit was using. “You got no call talking about Miss Benton that way.”

      “I can talk about Miss Benton any way I choose.” Kit emphasized Abigail’s title. “And everything I said was the truth.”

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