Bound: A sizzling hot Western romance. Molly Wishlade Ann

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СКАЧАТЬ at such a time. She was being ridiculous. The sun must have addled her brain.

      “Would you like something to drink Miss Powell?” Charlie asked, dragging her from her perusal of Etu.

      “Coffee’d be great, thank you.” She eyed him as he approached the fire and she had to force her mouth shut. He didn’t just smell good, he looked good. Even with his Stetson on, she could see his obsidian eyes shining in a tanned face. He had a strong square jaw and a full sensual mouth. She licked her lips. He was a handsome man. He had to be about six foot, give or take, and he looked fit as a wild stallion in his cowhide trousers and waistcoat. A fine figure of masculinity.

      But she knew that a handsome exterior didn’t make for a good man. He might look good on the outside but who knew what was going on inside that male brain? It must have been her exhaustion that led her body to react the way it did when he’d scooped her up in his arms. Pah! Her foolish, weak female body had responded to the first touch of a man, the first human contact, it had felt in a while. What was wrong with her? Physical weakness had led to trouble before and she should take care to ensure that it didn’t happen again. Were all women this weak or was it just her? Was she—as the pastor had said of women with carnal desires—in fact, a sinner? She shivered as she tried to brush the unpleasant thought away as she would an annoying fly.

      “Etu?” At Charlie’s use of his name the other man got up and went over to the saddles which were hung over a fallen tree near the horses. He rifled in their bags then brought out two small bundles. Layla watched him carefully.

      So Charlie was in charge. Etu must be his employee.

      As Etu returned to the fire and knelt opposite her, he pushed his shiny hair behind his ears and Layla swallowed a sigh. His skin glowed in the firelight, the colour of warm honey. He had Sioux features with his heavy brow and high cheekbones but his nose was thin and aquiline. His chin bore a dimple which she had a sudden urge to touch.

      He looked up and caught her observing him. His stare was hot and dark. Her stomach flipped. There was an intensity in his gaze that unnerved her. He reminded her of a trapped animal about to fight for its life. Ironic, she thought, as she was apparently the prisoner here. Yet something else burned in his eyes. It was more than fear. But just as primal. It made her heartbeat quicken and the tiny hairs on her arms stand on end.

      Etu leant forwards and handed her a pewter mug and she smiled at him. A habitual expression which she wished she could suppress. Some folks took friendliness for weakness. Better to be hard, harsh, without softness. But try as she might, she was none of those things. Etu’s face remained blank. He returned to his side of the fire and hunched over again. It was as if he bore the burdens of his people upon his shoulders or had spent his life trying not to be seen. Like he was accustomed to sinking into himself and disappearing from view. She understood the feeling of isolation that she suspected he must feel. Wishing that someone would just come along and scoop her up, carry her off on a horse and take care of her. That someone would see her for the special person she really was, not just a body for using and abusing.

      She took a shaky breath.

      “So…uh…Charlie…” Layla spoke. She couldn’t just sit here silently waiting for them to do something. For something to happen to her. “You said we needed to talk?” She hoped that she sounded more confident than she felt.

      “That we do, little lady.” Charlie nodded then sat at her side. “That we do.”

      “What about?” She gripped the mug, savouring the heat searing the palms of her hands. For a brief moment, she considered flinging the hot coffee into Charlie’s handsome face then running off but she feared the repercussions if he caught her. Which he undoubtedly would. It might anger him and that wouldn’t be wise. And she bet that she wouldn’t feel safe in his arms then. An angry man could be almost as bad as an angry bear, especially when he had a gun. Then he was even more dangerous.

      “Well, for a start…I think you’d better explain what you’re doing out here in the hills all alone,” he growled.

      Layla shifted her position. She had to stay alert. She might have a chance to flee at some point and she couldn’t afford a numb leg. What on earth did these men want with her? The Sioux didn’t look like he would take the lead with her and Charlie seemed completely unfazed by her, if she was reading him correctly. So why bring her to their camp?

      “Well, I don’t see that it’s any of your business,” she replied, throwing a haughty tilt of her chin into the final word. In haughtiness, she could find some security. Like a protective shell, she could hide behind it, conceal the real her.

      “Well ya see, Miss Powell.” Charlie pushed his Stetson back on his head. “It really is my business…seeing as how you’ve reneged on a deal you made recently.”

      Layla bit her lip. How did he know? Had he been employed by Mr Jackman to find her? But she’d only been gone a day and she wasn’t even due to be collected until tomorrow. So they must have arrived early in Deadwood. Darnit!

      Now she’d been caught, what the hell was she going to do?

      ****

      Charlie stared into the fire as he sipped his coffee. The bitter taste flooded his mouth and he savoured the heat as he swallowed. He needed this to stay alert. He’d thought he would have more trouble finding the pretty Miss Layla Powell but she’d been as easy to find as a wounded animal. An apt comparison, he mused. There was something about her that seemed wounded. Though she’d attempted to exert some kind of snooty attitude towards him, her eyes were wary and she just oozed vulnerability. He needed to be firm with her, to find out why she’d behaved as she had, but he was already struggling to remain aloof. He just couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.

      Now the question was…what would he do with her?

      He’d had a physical description of her in her letter but she’d not done herself justice. He glanced sideways at her. She was a real beauty. If you liked that sort of thing. Auburn hair tumbled down her back like a titian waterfall and even in the darkness he could tell that her eyes were the colour of emeralds. Her profile showed a small nose which turned up slightly at the end and a sweet full mouth like a rosebud about to bloom. That mouth would no doubt be delicious to kiss and the thought of it wrapped around his erect girth flooded his body with heat.

      He frowned.

      What was he thinking? He hadn’t kissed a woman in a long time and he rarely reacted to one in this way. Perhaps it was just the lateness of the hour and the excitement of finding her in the woods. A bit like the thrill of hunting. He’d been the hunter. She was the prey. As sweet and gentle as a doe. Although she hadn’t been as difficult to catch as some animals. But did his cock have to harden when he’d held her against his chest and breathed in her scent? His body had completely overreacted to her proximity and it was baffling the hell out of him.

      He had to keep calm. Be rational. Layla didn’t seem to realise who he was and he wanted to keep it that way for a while. Better to play the role of ‘good sheriff’ while he figured her out and found out if she really was the little swindler that her behaviour suggested she was. Surely a woman who could take a man’s hard-earned money then run off with it wasn’t the type of woman he wanted living at his homestead?

      “So, Miss Powell…” He drained his coffee. “Would you like to explain to me why you’re wandering around in the Black Hills? Alone.”

      Layla looked at him over the rim of her mug. Darn it, she had such fine eyes. They glowed in the firelight and danced with something akin to mischief. He СКАЧАТЬ