words had thrown him.
“Why?”
There was a limit to how far she would atone, and he had reached it.
“I do not know why.” She glared at him. “You are a very provoking man. By rights I should shoot you.”
He fished dinner out of the fire. “The man who saved your life?”
She sat down on the rock a couple feet away. “That would make me ungrateful.”
He handed her the other fillet. The one not covered in ash. The consideration made her feel even more guilty.
“But?”
He was an astute man to hear the but in her voice. “You are aggravating.”
“Because I won’t stitch a crease?”
That and other things, but since the other things were nameless worries in her mind, she settled for a simple “Yes.”
He took a bite of his fish. She tore off a piece of hers. It was a little big, but she was in a cave, in the wilderness eating off a stick. Surely manners could be flexible?
He waited until she had the too-big piece in her mouth before saying, “If you think that’s aggravating, I sure don’t want to see what you’re going to make of the fact we’ll be sharing a bedroll.”
Chapter 4
Sharing a bedroll with Sam had not been the exciting thing the forbidden should be. Here it was the next day and she was as much an untouched virgin as she had been lying down the night before. Darn it. She had not wanted him to rape her, but she would have liked to have a little tale about the night she’d slept with the infamous Sam MacGregor. Something more than that he’d rolled up a horse blanket into a bundle, set it between them like a bolster, rolled on his back and ordered her in a gruff voice to go to sleep. That was not what she expected from a man with his reputation.
Which just went to show how inflated legend could make a man’s reputation. Even in her little town of Montoya they had heard of Hell’s Eight and Wild Card MacGregor—a man so cold he could supposedly seduce or kill with a smile. She completely understood the former, and had witnessed the latter, which left only the question of why he had not seduced her. Was she so unappealing to him? The question nagged at her just as thoroughly as the leather of the saddle nagged at the insides of her thighs through her worn, fine lawn bloomers. This land could be very hard on the finer things.
She braced her hands on the pommel of the saddle and pushed up. The brief relief to her rear was welcome. Ahead of her, Sam rode easily, sitting in the saddle as if he was an extension of the horse. None of the weariness dragging at her showed in his posture. The setting sun behind them reflected off the silver conchos rimming his black hat. She glanced over her shoulder. The sunset was gorgeous. Even more gorgeous was the silhouette of another town backlit by the pink-and-orange glow. She bet there was a hotel in that town, and a soft mattress. She scanned the rickety outline of the buildings. Well, maybe not soft, but less hard than the saddle.
“No sense hankering about what’s not going to be,” Sam called back.
How had he known what she was thinking? She lowered her rear gingerly to the saddle. “I was just admiring the sunset.”
“I thought you were pining on the luxuries of town.”
It annoyed her that he did not even bother to look at her as he talked, just presumed to know what she was thinking. Even if he was right. “I do not see what would have pained to stop for one night. You defeated Tejala’s men.”
“Hurt for one night.”
“¿Qué?”
“The phrase is ‘What would it hurt.’”
“Hurt, pain.” She dismissed his correction with a wave of her hand as she gently urged Sweet Pea to catch up. She might have succeeded, except the packhorse they’d taken after the battle yesterday put up a protest. Sweet Pea jerked back. A nip from Kell’s teeth soon changed the packhorse’s mind. Sweet Pea picked up his pace until his nose drew even with Breeze’s flank. “None of it is good.”
“You’ve got a point.”
“So why could we not stay in town?”
“I’m a cautious man.”
“Not that I have heard.”
He shifted in the saddle, enough so she got a glimpse of his profile. It was as uncompromisingly handsome as the rest of his face, and just as compelling. Especially with the hint of a grin denting the corner of his mouth.
“And you believe everything you’ve heard?”
After watching him defeat the bandits of the last town and boldly step in front of a barrage of bullets to save her life? “Yes.”
The dent grew into a crease. He slowed his horse until she pulled alongside, and turned to face her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She pushed the hat brim off her face. He had a gorgeous smile—even white teeth and finely shaped lips. There probably was not a woman he had ever asked to his bed who had turned him down. She wondered if they had noticed how rarely his smile reached his eyes. “Where exactly do we go?”
He ran those eyes over her in a slow perusal, making her vividly aware of the fact that she was still braced on the pommel and also of her promise not to slow him down. “Getting a bit saddle sore?”
“Not at all.”
It was probably the biggest lie of her life. She would have much to confess to her priest when she returned home.
Sam tipped his hat back the smallest bit. The sun reflected off his face, turning the deeper flecks in his eyes to shards of blue fire. For all that he sat relaxed in the saddle, he radiated an energy that crackled. Or maybe it was just her awareness of him that gave the impression of sizzle. She’d never met a man who made her so conscious of the weight of her breasts, the softness between her thighs, the very unique differences of male and female.
“Good to know. I was hoping to get another three hours in.”
Three hours? Her thighs would be raw meat by then.
“It’ll be dark in the next half hour.”
He pointed to the left. “The moon ought to give us enough light to travel by.”
She hadn’t noticed the half-moon rising. She tried again. “What about dinner?”
He reached behind him, flipped open the saddlebag and pulled out a cloth-wrapped parcel. “Here.”
She had to let go of the pommel to take it. Try as she might to hide it, she knew he saw her wince as her thighs took her weight. “Gracias.”
She unwrapped the cloth. Inside were two biscuits and four strips of jerky. Not a whole lot of food. Her stomach growled. She had not eaten since this morning, and not that much then. Fish was not her favorite. Sam reached over and took Sweet Pea’s reins. With a flick of his
