Magnolia by Diana Palmer Page B

once more. “Show me where you want him.”
    She led the way inside, with Claire and John right behind her. On the way, a huge painting over the fireplace caught Claire’s eye and she flushed as she recognized the subject. She didn’t say a word as she watched John place the animal gently on the rug at the hearth, where a fire was going.
    â€œOld bones get cold. He’ll be happy here.” The old lady extended a hand, which John kissed with gentle sophistication, smiling at the elderly woman’s quick flush.
    â€œI hope he does well.”
    â€œThank you for your help, young man. It won’t be forgotten.”
    â€œIt was the least anyone could have done.”
    â€œYes, but no one else did it.” She showed them both to the front door and watched them down the drive with a smile.
    â€œDo you know who that was?” Claire whispered frantically to him before they reached the carriage.
    â€œOf course I do,” he said. “But I didn’t when we stopped. She’s quite a character. And stories are still told about her husband. He was a Civil War general.”
    â€œYes, I know, I’ve read about him.” She also knew that the elderly lady was the richest widow in town.
    He chuckled. “I had no idea whose house that was, or whose dog. Poor old Wolford. If he only knew whose dog he abandoned to its pain…”
    â€œShe smiled.”
    He nodded. “A kind but vengeful woman. His bank will suffer, I’m afraid.”
    â€œAnd so it should,” Claire said hotly. “Imagine! Hitting the poor animal and just driving on!”
    He stopped at the carriage, pausing long enough to thank the driver for waiting so patiently.
    â€œNo problem at all, sir,” the man said stoically. “I seen what happened. It takes a heartless man to leave an animal in such pain.”
    â€œYes, it does,” John agreed. He put Claire into the carriage and climbed in beside her. The front of his shirt was soiled and wet. He unbuttoned it a little to move the wet part aside.
    Claire’s eyes were drawn to his broad, hair-roughened chest, and she couldn’t help but stare. She’d never seen a man without his shirt.
    He cocked an eyebrow and chuckled. “Life is all lessons, isn’t it, Claire?” He caught her hand and drew her closer inthe cozy confines of the carriage. His fingers guided hers against the muscular wall of his chest into the thick mat of black hair.
    Her fingers jerked at first, but he flattened her palm there and moved it sensuously on his warm flesh. His breathing changed suddenly.
    She looked up into his dark eyes and found them smoldering.
    â€œYou…like it?” she asked uncertainly.
    â€œI like it.” He took the other hand and put it with the first, but the gloves irritated him. He stripped them off and tossed them onto her lap before he placed her bare hands against him. His chest expanded with the feel of her flesh against his.
    â€œYes, that’s how I wanted your hands on me,” he said, bending his head. He kissed her, his mouth half open, teasing, demanding.
    â€œJohn?” Her voice was a bare squeak.
    â€œClaire!”
    He caught her to him, turning her across his lap. The kiss became deep, invasive, and he moved her hands on his body until she understood what he wanted. His heartbeat shook both of them. Seconds later, he drew back slightly and guided her lips down to his chest, arching back, shivering as he felt them on his bare skin.
    The sudden jolt of the carriage made them draw apart. They looked at each other as the carriage began to slow, then realized almost simultaneously that they were nearly home.
    Claire jerked away from him, flustered and wide-eyed.
    â€œIt’s all right,” he said, with more composure than he actually had.
    She retrieved her hat from the floor while he pulled his sleeves down, buttoned his wet shirt, and put his jacket and hat back on.
    Their