Quicksilver Passion by Georgina Gentry - Colorado 01 - Quicksilver Passion

her bunk, she seemed to relax immediately and he put the lamp down on the crate by her bed. Was she afraid of the dark? And if so, why? There were a lot of things about this girl that mystified and intrigued him. He pulled the blanket back to check the bandage. Her creamy breasts moved as she breathed. Cherokee had to fight the urge to reach out and cup that fullness with his hand, stroke that rosebud pink nipple. He had just given her his word. Did it count if she didn’t hear it said?
    I heard it said, he chided himself without thinking. Of course he wouldn’t touch a wounded, helpless girl, but when her shoulder healed, he’d pay her whatever it took to let him lie on that smooth belly and kiss those breasts. Surely her reluctance was an act to lure men into paying more for her favors.
    Okay, sweet Silver,” he said softly,you win. Whatever money I got, you can have. Just once—that’s all I ask—and then maybe I’ll see you’re just a female after all, just like all the rest.”
    Only she wasn’t like all the rest. He’d never met anyone like her before—soft, vulnerable mouth, eyes hard as ice. He wondered again where she’d come from, what her past was, and how that bartender figured into the picture. A girl as beautiful as this one didn’t have to sleep with an ugly ape like Al; she could have her choice of men.
    He sat down on the floor by her bed, watching her face in the glow of the lamp light. After his father had deserted his mother for that saloon girl, his Indian grandmother had said all white women were whores. Cherokee had believed everything the old woman told him because she had looked after him, and was the only one in the world who cared about him. E-li-si . My grandmother, he thought in his language. Most of the others of their tribe had been taken away by force to walk the Trail of Tears to Indian Territory.
    But Silver didn’t look like a whore. Asleep with her pale hair spread out on the pillow around her, she looked like a little girl or a wounded angel. His body was tired and cramped from sitting here, but he was afraid to go to bed. Suppose she took a turn for the worse or needed something in the middle of the night?
    He reached out and took a strand of hair between his fingers. Fine as silk and the color of silver. He had a sudden vision of himself tangling his fingers in that hair as he took her. Then he was ashamed that he could think such thoughts about a defenseless girl. He had been a long time without a woman and his groin ached with need. But he had promised to look out for her and he had given his word.
    By damn! What a stupid fool he had been to promise that when she was in his power and he could do anything he wanted to her. But if the boys were lucky, there’d be a rescue team on its way here tomorrow and she’d be safe back under Al’s shotgun tomorrow night while she recuperated in her room at the Nugget.
    He got up and went to the window. Had the boys made it okay? For an instant, he was tempted to go looking for them, but he couldn’t leave her alone. His partners had been in this country awhile and were seasoned frontiersmen. If the weather got too bad, they might find shelter in the lee of a hill or brush pile and wait the storm out. There wasn’t any way for Cherokee to know what was going on out there. And if it kept snowing like it was doing now, a rescue team couldn’t get back up here through the drifts even if the boys made it into town.
    He went back and stood looking down at her. The two of them might end up isolated here for days as her wound healed. How could he handle her naked body, look at her beauty, and not break his word?
    With a loud sigh, he sat back down on the floor by her bed. He wanted very much to take her hand, to comfort her. But he didn’t. She must be in pain and he wished he could bear it for her. Somehow, he wanted to put himself between everything and anyone who threatened her security or made her unhappy.
    You must be loco,