Rebel With A Cause. Carol Arens

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СКАЧАТЬ you all right, miss? Did he harm you?” His words sounded cordial but his jaw pulsed with tension. Stepping closer, the man’s worn boots stomped down the rippling grass.

      For all that the sight of him made her heart quake, his deep voice, slow and sweet as summer honey, made her insides turn to mush … hot mush. She ought to be shivering in her undergarments like a proper blushing virgin instead of breaking out in a mystifying sweat.

      Still, it wasn’t until she tipped her head back to peer at his beard-shadowed face, until her gaze locked on lips framed by a dusky slash of mustache, that she felt the need to swoon.

      Even she, who considered swooning silly, thought it might be an appropriate course of action at this very point in time. Unfortunately, she hadn’t seen a fainting couch since she’d sneaked away from her mother’s parlor.

      “Ma’am?” His hand, muscular and calloused, and unlike any gentleman’s hand she’d ever seen, reached for her elbow.

      She must have swayed, even without a couch at hand. Mother would be pleased at that anyway.

      “You’re quite fascinat—” Muff growled, he snapped. Oh, gracious, she’d lost all sense of propriety. She pinched her fingers over Muff’s muzzle. “Yes—I’m fine … well, not exactly fine.”

      “Apparently.”

      His lips pressed together, looking as tight as her corset strings. His eyes darted over her inadequate attire. A flash of mischief turned his somber brown gaze to hot cocoa. Missy settled Muff squarely over her bosom.

      “You’ve got to catch that man!” She nodded toward the horizon. “He’s stolen Mr. Goodwin’s horse and an article of great importance to me.”

      Eyes so briefly warmed with humor turned cold. “He’ll pay for accosting you, ma’am. I’ll see to it.”

      He glanced west, glowering as though pursuing the cad with his eyes. A strand of ebony hair whipped loose from a ribbon at his nape and blew across his lips. He shoved it under the brim of his hat.

      “There’s nothing I’d like better than to run him down.” He looked at her. The anger flaring across his face faded to polite concern. “But there’s one hell of a storm ready to dump on us. There’s no time to fret over the garment he stole from you. You’ll be dressed quicker if I take you home.”

      Perhaps she should weep and moan at her state of undress. She supposed that’s what a well-brought-up young lady ought to do in this situation. Although, truth be told, she had never known anyone who had gotten into such a fix.

      Not a fix, Missy reminded herself, an adventure!

      “It was the cow that took my dress, not the man.” Missy shot a frown at the darkening prairie. “The man took something of much more value.”

      As if by reflex, he touched the gun slung in his holster. What a sight the weapon was, riding alongside his hip, so big and ferocious-looking.

      “You don’t have to say it out loud, miss, but if the outlaw has harmed you … if he’s taken … liberties, just nod your head and he’ll be dead by morning.”

      Outlaw? Dead by morning? Missy struggled to remember those exact words. When she got her journal back, with the inspired first chapter, she’d want to share every one of them with Suzie.

      “Oh, gracious! My … my virtue is doing quite well.” Why on earth were her breasts suddenly prickled with an odd tingle?

      His flaring eyebrows lifted, creasing his forehead in confused lines. The expression made him look almost sweet, in a big, bold, black sort of way.

      “This whole thing was Muff’s fault, actually, for getting muddy. I don’t suppose it was his fault that I slipped in the water, but then I don’t think you can blame a silly cow for anything.”

      Like a lightning flash, his mouth twitched up then jerked just as swiftly to a stern line.

      “I’m purely sorry for your misadventure, ma’am. I can’t say I understand it, but I’d better get you back to where you came from before pure hell breaks out of the sky.”

      “I came from the hotel in Green Island, but, naturally, I can’t go back until well after dark.” She tugged Muff in tightly but he was a poor substitute for her missing dress. “It wouldn’t be seemly.”

      “Seemly or not, I don’t plan to stay out here and get washed away.”

      Clearly, the man did not understand her predicament. Mother would perish, Edwin would have heart failure if they got word that Missy had come parading down a public thoroughfare in her soaking underwear … sharing a saddle with a man!

      “You are free as a feather to go, Mr …?”

      “Zane Coldridge.”

      What a bold and wonderful name. Her own sounded weak by comparison.

      “My name is Missy Devlin.” She spoke the name with force but Missy still sounded like a pampered, eastern name. “It was kind of you to stop, Mr. Coldridge, but I’m obliged to stay here until well after dark.”

      He whistled to his horse. It trotted up behind him and nudged his arm. He reached his hand out to her. “Let’s go.”

      She backed up a pace, just out of reach.

      “Go along, please, Mr. Coldridge. I’d take it as a kindness if you’d leave me now.”

      “Leaving a woman to drown in the rain doesn’t sound like any sort of kindness I ever heard of.”

      “Oh, it would be! Being a man, you wouldn’t know what becomes of a ladies’ undergarments when they get wet. I can assure you, I can’t be seen in town that way.”

      “Ha!” His bark of a laugh nearly unbalanced her. He bent over, bracing his wide hands on his knees.

      Muff wiggled to be free. She twisted her fingers in his fur to keep him still. The last thing she needed was to have to defend Mr. Coldridge’s boots against attack.

      “Hush, Muff, be still!”

      At long last her hero straightened up. He shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her.

      She put it on, shifting Muff from one arm to the other. The lingering warmth of Zane Coldridge’s body wrapped around her.

      “Let’s go,” he repeated and held out his hand once again.

      The sleeve of his coat flopped over her fingertips by several inches. She lifted her arm and let the fabric slide over her bare skin. It left a tingle, just as though the cloth might have been the man stroking her flesh.

      “Thank you,” she murmured and placed her pale hand in his rough palm.

      How on earth would she find enough delicious words to describe Zane Coldridge to Suzie?

       Chapter Two

      The stream had already washed over its СКАЧАТЬ