Audrey and the Maverick by Elaine Levine Page B

Franklin held the gate for him. He moved at a sedate trot past camp, then squeezed his horse into a lope. He listened to the sound of the wind and the beat of his horse’s hooves, but he couldn’t outrun his thoughts. What the hell had possessed him tonight? Never in his life had he begged a woman to be with him, yet just now, with Audrey, he had done that very thing. He’d never lost control before. Not in the war, not in his postwar business dealings, not in his careful vetting of potential wife candidates. But every time he looked at Audrey, he wanted her.
    Naked. Above him. Beneath him. Wrapped around him.
    He pulled up on a slight rise as the pinks and oranges cast by the setting sun gave way to purples, then blues, then the thin, wispy clouds turned gray. What did his hankering for Audrey mean for the plans he’d made for his future? Maybe his reaction to her had nothing to do with the woman herself. Maybe she was just a conveniently available female, something to distract himself from the fact that when he returned to Virginia, he was going to choose a wife from among the half dozen women he’d carefully selected—none of whom did he have a passion for, some of whom he knew as acquaintances, all of whom could trace their bloodlines back to the country’s founding fathers.
    He turned his horse around. On that slight rise, he could see the mountains in the west, rimmed by the long-gone sun. He sighed. Setting his knees lightly to his mount, he slowly made his way back to camp. Marriage was the right next step for his life, for the children he would father. He was going to marry one of the women he’d short-listed. And if he needed a last romp, then so be it. He would do it now and get it out of his system. He would honor his vows once they were said. And he would play like the devil this one last summer.

Chapter 15
    Audrey finally made good her promise to Hadley. She hadn’t seen him for almost a week and had a sneaking suspicion McCaid was keeping him busy and away from her. Franklin had told her he was due back tonight, so she’d prepared several double-crusted apple crisps from slices of dried apples she found in the storeroom.
    She dished the treat out to ranch hands who looked like boys about to taste their first candy stick. When there was a break in the line, Audrey glanced over and found McCaid leaning against one of the posts supporting the tent canopy. Hands in his pockets, his dark eyes on her, a lock of his straight brown hair curved down over his eyebrow—it was all Audrey could do not to suck in a sharp breath.
    “Would you care for some crisp, Mr. McCaid?” He looked from her to the baking dish and back again, a dark brow raised, his unspoken question hanging in the air.
    Audrey looked at the crisp and grinned. So he knew it was Hadley’s requested treat. “You don’t have a sweet tooth?”
    He didn’t answer right away. “Oh, I have a sweet tooth,” he drawled.
    “But you don’t care for apple crisp?”
    “I don’t care for that apple crisp.”
    Audrey’s smile widened. “I see.”
    McCaid was spared having to respond by a ruckus that kicked up as a rider came tearing through camp. Ordinarily, the hands were careful not to stir up dust so near the cook tent, but the rider only pulled up a dozen feet from McCaid.
    “Franklin wanted me to get you, boss. The northwest fence has been cut. It’s a bloody goddamned mess. Dead sheep everywhere. Some not quite dead.”
    McCaid hollered for a man to saddle his horse. He barked out orders in rapid succession, setting hands to double up at their watch posts, to pass out rifles, to bring lanterns. Jenkins ran inside the cookhouse and popped open a large cabinet. He pulled out rifle after rifle, tossing them to the men who came to retrieve them, throwing boxes of ammunition like candy at a parade.
    McCaid caught a rifle, and a box too. “Stay here,” he ordered Jenkins as he loaded rounds into his Winchester. “Keep Miss Sheridan and Amy