Fugitive Fiancee. Kristin Gabriel

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      “Nope.”

      She waited for him to elaborate, but he turned his gaze to the fireplace. His silence only made her more curious. Mimi wasn’t naturally nosy, but for some reason, this man intrigued her more than most. Maybe because he didn’t know anything about her or her illustrious family. He wasn’t trying to impress her or charm her or do anything to draw himself closer to the Casville fortune.

      He might even like her if he got to know her. Like her for herself, instead of what her family’s money and power might do for him.

      She spooned up more stew. “Then she must be your fairy godmother.”

      That got his attention. He turned his gaze from the fire to her. “What?”

      “This mysterious Venna. I thought she might be some kind of fairy godmother who magically makes fresh-baked bread appear on your table every evening.”

      He scowled. “There’s nothing mysterious about her. Venna Schwab was the woman in the barn.”

      “The woman you were hiding from?”

      “I wasn’t hiding,” he said, not quite meeting her gaze. “I just don’t happen to like unexpected company.”

      She chose to ignore the innuendo. “Why? I’d think a person would get pretty lonely way out here—with nothing but cows and coyotes to keep you company.”

      “That’s the way I like it,” he countered. “Although a ranch is no place for a city girl like you.”

      She blanched. “How did you know?”

      “I can spot a city girl a mile away. Not many women out here waste money on a fancy manicure.” He motioned to her polished pink fingernails. “Or wear silly shoes like the ones you’ve got on.”

      She lifted her feet a few inches off the floor. “These silly shoes happen to be imported from Italy. They’re designer originals!”

      “Well, they’re not worth two bits out here. Between the dirt and the gravel and the scrub brush they’ll be ruined in no time.”

      She shrugged and placed her feet on the floor. “I didn’t have time to change. I left in rather a hurry.”

      She expected him to ask her why, but instead he swept the bread crumbs off the coffee table into his empty bowl. Then he looked at her. “Finish your stew.”

      “Aren’t you the least bit curious about me?” she asked, ignoring his latest order.

      “No.” He settled back in the armchair and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve learned the hard way that curiosity can be a dangerous thing. Now, do you need a ride back into Austin, or did you drive out here?”

      “I drove.” She licked the last few bread crumbs off her fingers. “At least, until I ran out of gas. Then I walked.”

      He arched a brow. “Walked? In those shoes?”

      “Of course not. I took them off and carried them.”

      He leaned forward. “You mean you walked barefoot on these gravel roads? Exactly how far did you go?”

      She shrugged. “Five or six miles. I lost count.”

      He rose and moved toward her. Then he knelt in front of the sofa and picked up her foot. She winced as he carefully removed her right shoe.

      “Damn,” he breathed. Beneath the shredded sheer stocking, raw blisters and tiny cuts covered the sole of her foot. Without another word, he carefully pulled the stocking away from her skin, then ripped it apart with his powerful hands. It split all the way to her knee.

      Mimi looked down to see that her pink pedicured toenails were torn, dirty and bleeding. Her head spun, and she reached out to grab his broad shoulder. She hated acting weak in front of him, but at the moment she was too busy trying not to pass out to care.

      “What’s wrong?” he asked, his callused hands cradling her foot.

      “Nothing. It’s silly.”

      “Tell me.”

      As Mimi struggled to remain conscious, she thought about all the money her father had wasted on doctors and even a hypnotist to help her overcome this ridiculous reaction to the sight of blood. Especially her own. But nothing had helped. In fact, her father’s insistence that she conquer this weakness had only seemed to make it worse.

      At last, she took a deep breath and focused her attention on his face instead of her foot. “The sight of blood makes me a little woozy. In fact, I have to wax my legs instead of shaving them because I’ll pass out if I nick myself with a razor.”

      Heat flooded her face when she realized how inappropriate it was to tell him that intimate little detail. Especially now that his thumb was absently stroking the sleek, bare skin of her ankle.

      She swallowed hard at his sensuous touch, wanting it both to stop and to go on forever. “I…you…I mean, this really isn’t necessary.”

      “Don’t look,” he ordered as he turned his attention to her left foot.

      She squeezed her eyes shut, but she couldn’t stop the small gasp that left her lips when he tugged off her other shoe.

      “Does that hurt?”

      “Not really,” she breathed, warily opening her eyes.

      “Liar,” he said softly. Then he stood, turned and tossed her shoes in the fireplace.

      She watched in mute horror as her five-hundred-dollar shoes went up in flames. “What do you think you’re doing?”

      “I’m doing you a favor.”

      “But…those are the only shoes I have with me.”

      “My sister Shelby keeps a pair of boots here that she only wears when she comes out to ride.” His gaze flicked over her. “Might not be a perfect fit, but you two look about the same size.”

      “That’s not the point. You had no right to dispose of my property. How would you like it if I—” she motioned wildly toward the large picture window “—burned down your barn!”

      He arched a brow. “Is that what you were planning to do in there?”

      “Of course not. If you want to know the truth, I was hiding out. I figured a hayloft was the last place my fiancé would look, especially since he has horrible hay fever.” She swallowed, realizing the time had come to tell him everything. Well, maybe not everything. She did have some pride.

      “I was supposed to be married today. But I…” Mimi’s voice quavered, and she paused a moment to gain control. “I just couldn’t go through with it. So I left him at the altar, hopped into my car and drove until it wouldn’t go any farther.”

      The memory rekindled her anger, making her voice stronger. “It didn’t matter to me where or how far, I just had to get away. As far away as possible.”

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