Kate Bridges - The Proposition

Brown eyes smoldered in his direction. She tossed her hands onto her angled hips. “You think I don’t know anything, but it’s because you don’t tell me anything. Mr. Merriweather gets your precious sympathy, but all I ever get is your blasted temper.”

He gritted his teeth. “Because you’re nothing but trouble.”

“And you’re nothing but a thorn in my behind. I want you out.”

He glared at her, wishing he could say a magic word to make her disappear. Her braids were never able to contain all of her hair. Escaped strands of gold framed her heated face. Her white blouse had pulled out from one side of her waist. The creamy pants that had been crisp and clean yesterday morning were looser and stained with dull splotches of coffee and grass. The freckles on her nose had deepened in color.

She glanced at Independence, who was grazing grass by his boots. “Many people mistakenly treat me like I’m upper class. You treat me like I’m lower.” Her lips stiffened; her tone was harsh. “I don’t think we’re so different. You were raised to believe if you worked hard, you could make a difference. Well, I was told the same.”

Momentarily rebuffed, he tossed his Stetson to the grass and ran a hand through his hair. “All right, you want to know some things? This is yew.” He pointed to the line of shrubs. “They’ve got straight, green leaves, which almost look like coniferous needles. Keep the horses away from that.” He emphasized his point by gouging the air with his finger. “They can all graze in the clearing at the tall grass where I left them. But the shorter, fresh grasses, there—” he pointed past her shoulder “—have more nutrients. We’ll let Independence graze there for the sake of her foal.”

She squinted in the sunlight. “A kind word from the king.”

She’d roused his anger, then tried to leave.

“Go ahead, run away again.”

“I’m not running.” She turned briskly at his other side. He felt the breeze of her movements, smelled the scent of her skin.

“Yes, you are. Just like last night when I caught you at your saddlebag. You can’t face a confrontation.”

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.