Carol Finch - Oklahoma Bride

Karissa arched a brow. “Do I detect a warped sense of humor? Send it over to the washroom and I’ll have it starched and pressed in no time at all.”

When she turned toward the room, his muscled arm shot out to block her path. “I’m not the stuffed shirt you think I am,” he murmured as he leaned toward her.

His face was so close to hers that breathing was next to impossible. Her traitorous gaze focused on the sensuous curve of his mouth and her heart commenced pounding so hard that she swore it was about to beat her to death. He was so large and powerful that she felt dwarfed by his massive presence.

Ordinarily, Karissa balked and rebelled when she felt intimidated by a man. Yet, the feelings Rafe aroused inside her went beyond the norm. This ill-fated and unprecedented attraction made her feel more vulnerable than she ever had before. This was worse than physical vulnerability; it was emotional suicide. A woman who lived by her wits couldn’t afford to permit emotions to influence her ability to reason.

Desperate to put some distance between them, she ducked under his arm and darted into the room. She stood there, clutching the garments to her chest, as if the uniforms could protect her from these sensations that rippled through her body.

He stared at her for a long moment and she stared back at him. Then, without another word, he closed and locked the door. Karissa half collapsed on the end of the bed and dragged in a shaky breath. The man had an incredibly potent effect on her. She’d tried to alienate him, to irritate him, but she could still feel sparks flying when they were alone.

Flustered and desperate, Karissa snatched up her clean breeches, jacket and shirt. It would be better if she was garbed in men’s clothes on her walk with Rafe. She didn’t want to risk looking like a woman—for fear she would start behaving like a woman and end up doing something totally inappropriate.

Like kiss him. No, better to behave like the tomboy that life had forced her to become, she decided.

Being detained by the army was trouble enough. Yielding to the temptation of kissing a betrothed man, just to see if he tasted as scrumptious as he looked, would be more than trouble. It would be a disaster.

Rafe completed his reports then raked his hand through his hair. Why had he offered to spring Karissa from confinement to take her for a walk? In the dark? Hell!

He dragged in a determined breath. He could do this. He could keep a respectful distance, chitchat for a quarter of an hour then return her to the room. Certainly he had encountered more difficult situations than accompanying a woman for a stroll around the post. And she was just a woman, after all.

Resolutely Rafe stood up and exited his office. He crossed the compound in brisk strides. When he reached his quarters he rapped on the door. It opened immediately. To his surprise, he encountered the scruffy urchin, not the curvaceous beauty he had dined with an hour earlier.

“Going somewhere?” he asked. “Like on a fast getaway?”

She sashayed past him to exit the building. “Nope, just slipped into more comfortable and familiar clothing. And by the way, I’d like to shoot the imbecile who decreed that women should wear hampering dresses. It was, no doubt, the inspiration of a man who wanted quick and easy access to a woman when he wanted to appease his lusty craving…what’s the purpose of that building?” she asked in the same breath.

Rafe glanced in the direction she indicated. “That’s the weapons and ammunition depot. Be careful about shooting off your mouth around it. I wouldn’t want you, or it, to blow sky-high.”

“Point noted, General,” she said. “And what’s the purpose of that building?”

“Temporary storage for the mess hall and infirmary. The stockade fence will be dismantled and the post will be expanded after the Run. We are cramped for space.”

Rafe answered all of her questions—until she asked how many guards were posted in the two guard towers on opposite corners of the enclosed garrison. “Why do you want to know that?” he asked suspiciously.

She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Simple curiosity.”

He smirked. “There’s nothing simple about you. Without a doubt, you’re the most complicated woman I have ever encountered.”

“Bothers you, doesn’t it?” She halted to stare impishly at him. “Well, if it makes you feel better, General, you’re the most frustrating man I have ever met.”

The angled light cast by a lantern beamed across her enchanting face, compelling Rafe closer. He couldn’t remember wanting to kiss a woman quite as much as he wanted to capture Karissa’s lush, sensuous lips. While it was true that her sassy mouth was twice as big as she was, he was still intrigued by it, compelled to taste her thoroughly.

Karissa forgot to breathe when she noticed the flicker of awareness in his pewter-colored eyes. When he leaned toward her, suffocating her with his nearness—without actually touching her—unfamiliar sensations coiled in the pit of her stomach. He looked as if he was contemplating kissing her, and conflicting emotions roiled inside her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know how it felt to be wrapped in his sinewy arms and feel his full lips moving upon hers.

She was afraid she might like it too much. Yet, that didn’t stop her traitorous body from gravitating ever closer to him, leaving the narrow space between them to crackle with sensual speculation.

“Rafe—?” Her voice faltered. She wasn’t sure if she was asking him to move closer or back away.

“Karissa—?” Rafe stood there, savoring her unique scent, lost in the fathomless depths of her shimmering green eyes. He was torn between reckless desire and ruthless self-denial, unwillingly drawn to her and helpless in his inability to control the aching need that prowled through him.

Just when he felt himself give in to the overwhelming need to draw her into his arms and taste her, a voice called out, “Ah, there you are, Major.”

Rafe shook himself from the bedeviling trance and stepped back. He would gladly have promoted Lieutenant Johnson on the spot, for his timely interruption. A few more moments and Rafe would have pulled Karissa into his arms, sampled the sweet nectar of those full lips and abandoned the good sense he’d spent years accumulating.

“What’s the problem, Lieutenant?” Rafe asked. His voice sounded as if it had rusted.

“One of our men was suddenly taken ill. The post surgeon wants to speak to you about relieving him of his duties until he’s back on his feet,” Lieutenant Johnson reported.

“Tell Doc Winston I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Rafe took Karissa’s arm and steered her back to officers’ quarters. “I’m sorry to cut your walk short,” he said very formally.

“Just as well. I have a stack of mending to tend. But thank you for the grand tour.”

She didn’t protest when he practically shoveled her into the room then secured the door for the night. Rafe leaned against the wall and inhaled a steadying breath. Willfully he forced all thoughts of Karissa from his mind. It wasn’t easy, but he was the commandant of this post and his duties always came first.

He wondered why he’d had so much trouble remembering that the past two days.

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