And One Rode West by Heather Graham Page A

just have to go ahead and do so because I’ll touch you when and how I like. They’re your brothers. You married me. And unless you’re really fond of bloodshed,you had best bear that in mind. Now, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind in the least becoming a widow, seeing my Yankee carcass slipped into a shroud. Your brothers are good, damned good, but don’t underestimate my abilities. I managed to stay alive through four years of fighting at the front too. So if you ever think about doing anything so stupid as causing a further friction between us, just remember that.”
    She had grown very pale. She no longer resisted his hold upon her. Her lashes, so long and rich a black, fell over her eyes. “Will you let me go, please? We do need to give them some kind of an explanation.”
    Instantly, he released her. She turned her back on him and stepped into the pantalets. He strode across the room and picked up his own neatly folded clothing, dressing quickly. He could hear the splash of wash water from the pitcher to the bowl as he buckled his scabbard in place. With his back to her, he waited for her.
    “You can go down without me,” she told him. Damn, how she wanted him gone! More time to plan a story for her brothers? Why a story, when the truth explained it all so clearly?
    “You want to send me down to face the lions alone?” he drawled, turning to watch her. She was in the process of slipping into a dress. Christa certainly had enough gowns. This was another day dress, a handsome blue-and-gray plaid taffeta with black lace trim. It was elegant and very demure.
    She dressed with care for every occasion. She stared at him, trying to do the hooks. He walked around behind her, impatiently grabbing her about the waist and pulling her back to him when she would have avoided his touch.
    “My brothers are not lions,” she said. “And I thought that you didn’t give a damn about them.”
    “I’m not afraid of them,” he told her. “I never said I didn’t give a damn about them. There’s a big difference.”He rubbed his chin. He needed a shave. It would have to wait. The Camerons downstairs—including his sister—did deserve some kind of an explanation.
    He was going to let Christa give it.
    “Shall we go, Mrs. McCauley?” He offered her his arm. Christa ignored it, spun around, and started for the door. He followed on her footsteps.
    Christa walked down the hallway through the gallery, painfully aware of him behind her. This could have been so easy. If Jeremy had behaved like a gentleman and kept his distance.
    She suddenly felt a rush of blood rising to her cheeks. She could remember waking beside him. It had been almost like a dream. Being curled against him had been nice. She had felt the warmth of his body and the muscled length of him. She had also felt the hardness of him, warm and pulsing against her bare flesh. It hadn’t been horrible at all, it had been fascinating, sensual, nice. She had wanted to turn around and curl against the strong male body. She had wanted to be held.
    It’s what it would have been like to wake up married.
    She was married.
    According to Jeremy, they were really married. She stopped short suddenly in the portrait gallery.
    Camerons stared down upon them.
    “What are we going to say?” she asked him.
    “Let’s see. I know. I rode by, you were swept off your feet, we couldn’t wait a minute, you married me.”
    “How amusing,” Christa murmured.
    “How pathetic,” he responded softly. He had dressed in his full uniform, down to his hat. It was a cockaded cavalry hat, just like Jesse’s. Jeremy wore two plumes in his.
    With the hat pulled low over his forehead, his eyeswere barely discernible in the shadows of the hallway. He seemed exceptionally curt this morning, even for Jeremy. As if he were totally impatient with her now, and as if he truly regretted all that he had gotten himself into.
    Except that he didn’t seem willing to help get them out of it! He was a tall