Johanna Lindsey - A Man to Call My Own

She'd managed to amaze him. He'd never heard of anything so silly, but then he should have suspected that something absurd like that would come out of her, considering how wild her imagination was.

"Gotcha. So all it takes to gain her interest is to pretend an interest in you. Sounds pretty easy. I'll keep it in mind."

She stared at him hard for a moment before she said, "You know, I think I'd rather freeze than continue this conversation. You've been warned. Proceed at your own risk."

He smiled. "I always do, darlin'."

"YOU GONNA COME ALONG quiet-like, so I don have to bash your head none?"

The question was a gruff whisper. Marian was surprised she even heard it since it was muttered quite a distance away and not to her. But she'd been unable to sleep after that aggravating conversation with Chad after dinner.

It had infuriated her, really, how pleased he'd looked upon hearing her explanation, as if he were already thinking of using that ploy to gain Amanda's attention. She'd felt like kicking him. She certainly hadn't felt like talking to him anymore.

She was still castigating herself for revealing the truth about Amanda, which she'd never done before, and for thinking Chad was smart enough to have figured out by now that Amanda was better avoided than pursued.

Now, awake, and sharing a blanket with Ella Mae on the hard ground under the wagon, every little sound was gaining her notice, especially that ominous whisper...

Except she hadn't heard the stranger enter their camp. He'd gotten all the way to the campfire where Chad was sleeping, was leaning over him, had spoken to him, and had gotten there without making a single sound.

She could see him clearly from where she was lying under the wagon. He was really big, wide as well as tall, could easily weigh three hundred pounds. He looked wild, at least very uncivilized, clothes filthy, a thick bearskin coat, long gray-brown hair so matted, he probably hadn't seen a comb in the last ten years. And she could smell the stink. He'd brought the odor with him.

Chad had to be awake by now, though he hadn't moved and wasn't giving any indication that he'd heard the question. The giant mountain man got impatient for a response, thumped him hard on the chest with the butt of his pistol.

"You hear me, boy?"

"If I didn't," Chad replied dryly, "I could sure smell you—boy."

A chuckle. "You know me. I've worked for your pa before. You know I don' want to hurt you none if I don' have to. But you will be coming with me. Means five hundred to me. Means I'll be spending a nice warm winter this year, and I do favor warm winters at my age."

"I'll match that price if you take your stink elsewhere."

"Now that won't rightly do 'cause I gave your pa my word that I'd have you home 'fore morning. Have to keep my word, boy, you understand. It's a matter of trust—and more jobs when I need 'em."

"And pretty pointless. He knows where to find me now. He can come to me."

"I reckon he don' want to," the giant replied. "Matter of pride, you know. After all, you're the one that hightailed it, not him."

"You don't know anything about it, Leroy," Chad said with a degree of disgust.

"I don' need to know, don' get paid to know. Now are you coming—?"

A sigh. "I'd oblige you, if I didn't have women here that can't be left alone. And no, you're not dragging them another ten miles out of the way when they're only a few more hours from home. You can tell my pa I'll come by to see him sometime next week."

Leroy shook his head. "That ain't getting me my five hundred, boy."

"It will keep you from getting a hole in your chest, boy." Chad countered.

The gun was cocked, the sound incredibly loud in the still of the night as Chad got to his feet. The big man chuckled again, not seeming the least bit intimidated by the thought of being shot.

He even said in his congenial tone, "Your pa didn't say I had to bring you home in one piece, just to bring you home. You don really want to take me on. Six shots, if you got that many, ain't gonna stop me. I've taken worse and lived to crow about it. So why'n't you come along nice-like, and save us both a passel of pain."

Marian was moving stealthily toward the two men who were discussing violence so casually. They were talking loud enough that they didn't hear her, and she stopped each time when they weren't. She'd picked up a big branch, a small log actually, thick and heavy enough to do some serious damage. Whether she could actually swing it at the man called Leroy was the question.

Fights with her sister were one thing, and while they might get vicious, they never started out with that intent. But this was entirely different, attacking someone she didn't know with the intention of hurting him enough to alleviate the menace. She wasn't sure she could do it. But it didn't sound like she had much choice.

Another step should have her close enough. Her hands began to sweat nervously. She raised her impromptu club with its branchy spikes over her right shoulder, positioning it for a full momentum swing, and took that last step.

And broke a twig under her bare foot.

Both men turned immediately in her direction. Both pointed guns at her. She froze completely, eyes wide with fright.

Leroy started laughing first. Very well, so there hadn't been any time to think of dressing. So she was standing there in her ruffled underwear with a log raised over one shoulder and her loose hair tumbling down the other. It wasn't that funny, at least not enough to cause Leroy to laugh so hard he got tears in his eyes.

"What the hell you gonna do with that, gal?" he asked her. "I clean my teeth with toothpicks that size."

SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN standing there. The kind of trouble the mountain man had brought into their camp had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with Chad. He could have handled the situation without her help. But Marian hadn't known that when she'd decided to "save" him.

Now her brave effort was being laughed at. It was the gross exaggeration, though, that made her highly indignant. Leroy had probably never cleaned his teeth once in his whole life, let alone used small logs to do it. He had said that merely to point out that she was no threat to him. So she swung her club straight at his head. But he caught it easily and, with no effort whatsoever, tugged it out of her hands and tossed it toward the fire.

She would have huffed some at that point. Some help she had been. But Chad had taken advantage of the distraction she'd provided. Leroy's chuckles were cut short as he crashed to the ground, Chad's pistol butt cracked over the back of his head. It put him out completely—for the moment. And Chad wasted no time in tieing him up, just in case he regained consciousness sooner than he wanted.

Trussed up, gagged, weapons confiscated—an entire arsenal had come out of that humongous bearskin coat—Leroy no longer presented much of a danger. And Marian had remained to watch longer than she should have. She wanted to ask Chad what that had been about, but it wasn't really any of her business, and she was suddenly very mindful that she was still standing there in her underwear.

She turned to leave, hopefully without drawing Chad's notice. But he noticed, said, "Hold up, Amanda."

She froze for the second time, realizing that she wasn't wearing her spectacles. She had forgotten to grab them before coming to his rescue, which was really stupid of her. And now he thought she was Amanda.

He'd reached her back, grasped her shoulders. "That was a brave, if foolish thing you tried to do."

He was too close. She was starting to feel things other than foolish after watching him. She'd stayed too long, should have left him immediately. He was half-dressed himself, wearing only his pants, his hair mussed from sleeping. And he'd worked up a sweat while dealing with Leroy. Chad Kinkaid bare-chested was too sexy by half, his skin glistening in the firelight.

But he thought she was Amanda ...

She should correct him—no, that would be even more foolish. It wouldn't hurt for him to think she was Amanda for a few more moments. It would be much better than his finding out she and her sister were twins—if he hadn't already figured that out. He'd been around them enough to have guessed by now. But most people who knew they were twins quickly forgot about it because Marian wore her disguise so well.

But at the moment he really did think she was Amanda—and at the moment, she really didn't want to push him away.

He turned her around, tipped her face up to his. "But thank you. That could have gotten messy if you hadn't distracted him."

She was embarrassed by his gratitude and looked down as she asked, "Who was he?"

"A buffalo hunter, bounty hunter, Indian scalper, trapper, you name it, he's probably done it. But the West is getting too tame for him—or he's gotten too old to live the way he used to in the wilds. He hires himself out now for odd jobs that pay well."

"And you knew him?"

"Not really, just in passing. He stops by my fathers ranch every so often just to see if there's work to be had other than normal ranch work."

"And got lucky this time? Your father has to pay someone to get you to visit?"

Chad smiled. She wished he hadn't. He was far, far too close, and that smile of his ...

"Its more complicated than that," he said softly, too softly.

He was going to kiss her. She knew it was coming, should run like hell in the other direction, because he wouldn't be kissing her, he'd be kissing Amanda. But she couldn't get her feet to move. And deep down, she wanted that kiss, no matter that it wouldn't really be hers.

Opportunities like this just didn't come her way. Her own doing, but still, she'd put her own life on hold until Amanda got settled, yet it seemed now like that would never happen. She was old enough to marry, wanted to marry, wanted a man she could call her own. But until Amanda married and moved on, she didn't dare pursue her own desires.

Although it was deceitful to let Chad continue thinking she was someone else, the temptation was too great to say nothing, to take his kiss and ignore that he thought he was giving it to Amanda. And the time for agonizing over it ran out.

It was worth it. That thought floated through her mind as his mouth moved over hers and enthralled her senses. Oh, yes, definitely worth it. Such a heady feeling raging through her, blood racing, heart pumping, too much excitement. And when he gathered her close, she was afraid she was going to faint, pressed against him, feeling all of him, tasting him, it was too much all at once.

She had no idea how long he held her like that. She was so lost in her own sensations that time didn't matter. He could have kissed her all night, and she probably wouldn't have known the difference. It could have been only mere moments though, and when he did lean back finally, he didn't seem anywhere near as affected as she was.

She could barely think straight. He merely smiled, caressed her cheek, and said, "You should get some sleep. We'll discuss this in the morning."

That got her eyes open wide and alarm bells clanging. "No—no, there'll be no discussion of this. It didn't happen, well, it shouldn't have, so do not mention it to me—ever."

He grinned at her, didn't seem the least bit disturbed by what appeared a sudden attack of propriety on her part. "If you say so, darlin'. Long as we know otherwise."

He turned back toward the fire and his bed next to it. While he wasn't watching her, she rushed back to the wagon and her own bed underneath it. Ella Mae had been wakened at some point herself by all the commotion and had witnessed that kiss. She was lying on her side, leaning on one elbow. She rolled her eyes a bit when Marian plopped back down next to her.

"You know what you're doing?" Ella Mae asked.

"No."

"That was bad of you."

"I know."

"You should tell him the truth—and show him. That's if you want him for yourself."

Ella Mae never pulled any punches, but then she didn't come from the lower social rung. Her family had been working-class, but not poor. They'd disowned her though when she got pregnant without a husband to show for it. She'd miscarried the child, which she still mourned in quiet moments. She'd been on her own ever since.