Carolyn Davidson - The Outlaw's Bride

“No. If you’d wanted to harm me, you would have already.”

And if she only knew how tempted he’d been, last night when the moon had turned its face on her and illuminated the beauty of dark hair and smooth skin. Not to harm her, but to touch her woman’s flesh, to bring her the warmth of his own. His control had been tried when he’d watched her as she slept. When his hands had craved the soft heat of her, his body had ached for the comfort of hers.

And yet, his intent would not have been to cause her pain, although that might have been an end result if he’d touched her slender form. She was no doubt a virgin, and would remain so while he lingered here, he vowed.

He’d never been prone to taking a woman who was not willing—indeed, not eager—to fill his bed. And there had been no lack of takers. Yet none of them had appealed to him in quite the same way as this female, this slim creature whose dark hair and eyes lured him with their mystery, whose slender fingers held the strength to milk a cow or wield a knife, whose home offered him a resting place where he might sort out his future.

And so he again spoke his intent, wanting to reassure her that his presence would bring her no harm. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, Nightsong. I’ll only be here as long as it takes to make my plans. As soon as I’ve decided my next move I’ll be on my way and you’ll be no worse off for having me here.” And if he could tear himself away from the lure of her, from the soft scent of woman she exuded, the vision of beauty she offered to his hungry eye, he’d leave. And never forget the short time he’d spent in her presence.

“You’ll leave me as you found me?” The question seemed to be as much a surprise to her as it was to him, and he refused to reply, only met her gaze in silence, not willing to offer an assurance he could not guarantee.

She rose and took her plate to the sink, then turned to retrieve his from the table. “Are you finished?”

He nodded, holding the last bit of toast in his hand. “Breakfast was good, Debra. Thank you.” He watched as she poured hot water from the stove’s reservoir into her dishpan, added soap from beneath the sink, and then sloshed her dishcloth to form suds.

“You didn’t answer me.” She turned to face him, holding the dishcloth in her hand as she approached the table. With smooth strokes, she wiped the surface clean, catching the crumbs in her hand and then looking up into his face, as if she would find some trace there of his intentions.

“Let’s just take it one day at a time,” he suggested. “For today, I’ll dig post holes and lay out the corral for you. Do you have fencing or do you want a board fence?”

“I’ve had lumber delivered for the whole job. It’s under a tarp behind the shed.”

“Who were you planning to hire to do the work?”

She sent him a look of scorn. “I have two good hands and I’m strong. It might have taken me longer than it will you, but I’d have done the job.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He acknowledged her determination with a nod. “Let’s leave the garden ’til tomorrow. Today, I’d like you with me out back.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Should I?”

She laughed. “Probably not. But then, having my corral built without putting forth an effort on my part is tempting enough to keep me submissive for today.”

“But not tomorrow?” His gaze held hers and he felt himself sinking into the depths of her soft brown eyes.

“I won’t make any promises.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

And so they left the house and within an hour, he’d dug several holes and the posts were leaning drunkenly into each of them, awaiting the dirt he would pack around each. Debra picked up a shovel and he shook his head. “I’ll do that. Why don’t you mark out the area you want to enclose? Use that stick over there and draw a line for me.”

She nodded, shooting a wary glance his way, but did as he’d said, skirting a large tree and forming a rectangle that would give her horses ample room to exercise when she didn’t want to stake them out in the meadow, yet still give them the shade of a tree during the heat of the day.

“You need a fence around the whole area, to pasture your cow,” he told her.

“Right.” The single word hummed with disdain. “Have you any idea how much it costs for wood from the lumberyard?” She looked beyond the limits she’d circumscribed for her corral and her gaze was wistful, as if she could see a fenced pasture, with her livestock feeding on the lush meadow grasses.

“Your problem is in finding cheap labor, I’d think,” he said, following her gaze to where the trees offered shelter for animals from the sun’s harsh rays.

“I can’t afford to hire help, cheap or not. Things will get done when I’m able to do it myself. It may take a while, but I’ll have a pasture full of animals one day.”

“Animals? What do you have in mind?” He found he really wanted to know, had a desire to search out the crevices of her mind, seek out the dreams she sheltered there.

“Horses, maybe. I’d like to breed my mares. There’s money to be made. It just takes time and a lot of effort.”

“Do you have a stud available?”

She shook her head. “My nearest neighbor has a sorrel he might be persuaded to let me use for my riding mare. I need a bargaining tool, and I haven’t figured it out yet.”

Tyler nodded, thinking about the unknown neighbor and what he might ask for payment in exchange for the use of his stud, and found his thoughts straying into forbidden territory. The woman was too vulnerable, too open to hurt.

“How much hay do you have here?” He waved a hand at the far-off field, where the crop of hay was tall, ready to cut, awaiting the scythe of harvest.

“About twenty acres. I’m thinking about having him bring his crew over to cut it and keeping some for my own use. I had a man from closer to town come out last year and we worked out a share plan. I thought I might gain the use of the sorrel stallion for a few days in exchange for my hayfield.”

“Keep what you need and offer him the rest,” Tyler advised.

“Easy for you to say,” she said with a harsh burst of laughter. “You’re a man, and men make the rules in this world, I’ve found. I’ll no doubt have to abide by whatever he’s willing to offer me.”

“So long as you have enough from the first cutting to fill your loft, you can stake your animals all summer and probably have another cutting of hay to bargain with in August.” He looked around the space behind the shed. “Where did your straw stack come from?”

“The same farmer. He kept the wheat from my back acres and left me the straw for my animals.”

“I think you came out on the short end of the stick.” And he bristled as he thought about the neighbor who had taken advantage of a woman alone. “He kept all the wheat?”

“I have enough from my eggs and butter to cover what flour I need at the general store,” she said readily. “I’m well aware that the man takes advantage of me, but as long as my needs are met, I can afford to be generous.”

“Is your neighbor married?”

Her eyes widened again at his query and she nodded quickly. “Of course, with several children. He has a profitable operation.”

“And is he a gentleman?” His gaze pinned her and he watched as his meaning struck home.

She shifted her gaze, her lip trembling as she sought a reply. “He hasn’t had much choice. I won’t put up with any shenanigans.”

“You’re a woman alone, Debra. You’re in danger of his shenanigans, no matter that you have a gun and a lot of spunk.”

She was silent for a moment and then her words told of the fear she lived with. “I’m careful. Usually,” she inserted, as if she thought of her rash behavior last night, when she’d stumbled into danger in her own kitchen.