Lindsay McKenna - Heart Of The Eagle

“Is my wrangler side that obvious?”

She grinned. “You’ve got bowed legs like the rest of us. What do you think?”

His laughter was deep and clear and it freed Dal in a breathless sort of way. When he smiled, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened, and the smile lines around his mouth became grooves that eased the hardness of his features.

“I thought you were going to blame my Navaho blood,” he teased.

Dal became more serious, her curiosity overcoming her natural distrust of him. Flight was a volatile animal at best, and yet beneath Jim’s firm but sensitive hand the stallion had never once tossed his head or fought the bit. Her gaze rested on Jim’s hands, and she recalled him sensitively caressing the flesh of her palm. Her heart beat a little faster as she savored that branding moment earlier.

“I owe you an apology, Jim.”

“Oh?”

“I called you a half-breed. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

His eyes were filled with amusement. “I didn’t take what you said seriously, so don’t apologize. You were a little out of sorts, that’s all.”

Dal cast him a spurious look. “I haven’t figured out whether you’re a mind reader or not,” she muttered.

“Why?”

“Because you know me too well.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Everything. Men are insensitive.”

His mouth curved into a teasing smile. “Is that like ‘all women are catty’?”

She laughed at his generalization. “Touché. Well, I guess I can throw all my labels out the window with you and start all over.”

He gave her a heated look. “I think you’d better,” he said huskily.

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