female.
The thud of a horse’s hooves stirred Sabrina from her reverie as she turned to watch Patrick’s gray dun canter into view.
Pulling on the reins, he skidded to a halt beside her. A scowl wrinkled his forehead as he informed her tersely, “I’ve been looking for you.”
The morning sun glistened behind him, casting his shadow across Sabrina. The air crackled with suppressed tension. The last week they had traded short, clipped sentences, just shy of snarling at each other. “You found me.”
Her pride still ached from their encounter over the chuck wagon, and that blasted kiss. That kiss had kept her awake at night. That kiss had made her ache for something she knew nothing about. That kiss made her want to reach out and glide her fingertips across his full lips now.
“Before we cross the river this morning, I want to talk to you.” His voice was deep and calm, yet he appeared nervous.
The smell of soap drifted to her nose and she noticed his cheeks were freshly shaven. Patrick shaved every morning—without his shirt, his pectoral muscles rippling with each stroke of the blade. It was an early morning ritual Sabrina had come to dread.
“I don’t want you crossing the river on horseback. I want you in the wagon with Buckets.”
“Why? This river looks easier than some of the streams we’ve crossed.”
His voice rose in command. “For your own safety, I want you in the wagon.”
Sabrina sighed. Would they ever get along? She had tried to be agreeable. She had tried to avoid him, but wherever she turned, he was there. Did he care for her, or was this just his overblown male attitude? So far, nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and the river looked tame enough for a child to swim.
Patrick sat on his horse, his back rigid, as he awaited her response. Part of her wanted to deny him, but she hated snakes, she was fed up with arguing, and the wagon would feel more secure. “I’ll ride with Buckets.”
A look of surprise crossed his face. “Good!”
He swallowed nervously and looked down at the river below them. “There’s one other thing we need to talk about.”
Sabrina scrutinized Patrick. Something in his voice made her raise her guard. This man had been a Texas Ranger and a bounty hunter. He had faced more gunslingers than she cared to remember. Why was he nervous? “What is it, Patrick?”
He cleared his throat “When we cross the river, we enter Indian territory.” Patrick stared at Sabrina. “From now on, to anyone outside our group, you’re my wife.”
Stunned, Sabrina asked, “What?”
Patrick pushed his hat away from his face and wiped his arm across his brow. “Your blonde hair is going to attract more braves than I want to think about.” He paused, clearly uncomfortable in what he was trying to say. “I don’t want anyone to know you’re unmarried.
“Should anyone ride up, pretend we’re married. A greeting party will probably catch up to us sometime in the next few days. When they arrive, I’ll tell them you’re my wife, and please, keep that blonde hair hidden.” Sabrina frowned. He wanted them to pretend to be man and wife? With their past history? A smile flitted across her face.
“What’s funny?” Patrick asked.
A giggle escaped her lips. “Don’t you think it’s ironic that we were almost married and now I’m pretending to be your wife?”
Sabrina’s chuckles filled the air. She laughed from the bottom of her heart releasing the tension—and the anger. It was too funny. He wanted her to make believe she was his wife! They would have been married for over two years and possibly could have had a baby by now if she hadn’t broken their engagement.
Patrick jerked on the reins of his horse and the horse whinnied in protest. The scowl on his face left no question. He was furious. “I fail to see the humor in this situation.”
“Think about it. We’re pretending to be what we almost were.” Sabrina continued laughing until tears begin to
The thud of a horse’s hooves stirred Sabrina from her reverie as she turned to watch Patrick’s gray dun canter into view.
Pulling on the reins, he skidded to a halt beside her. A scowl wrinkled his forehead as he informed her tersely, “I’ve been looking for you.”
The morning sun glistened behind him, casting his shadow across Sabrina. The air crackled with suppressed tension. The last week they had traded short, clipped sentences, just shy of snarling at each other. “You found me.”
Her pride still ached from their encounter over the chuck wagon, and that blasted kiss. That kiss had kept her awake at night. That kiss had made her ache for something she knew nothing about. That kiss made her want to reach out and glide her fingertips across his full lips now.
“Before we cross the river this morning, I want to talk to you.” His voice was deep and calm, yet he appeared nervous.
The smell of soap drifted to her nose and she noticed his cheeks were freshly shaven. Patrick shaved every morning—without his shirt, his pectoral muscles rippling with each stroke of the blade. It was an early morning ritual Sabrina had come to dread.
“I don’t want you crossing the river on horseback. I want you in the wagon with Buckets.”
“Why? This river looks easier than some of the streams we’ve crossed.”
His voice rose in command. “For your own safety, I want you in the wagon.”
Sabrina sighed. Would they ever get along? She had tried to be agreeable. She had tried to avoid him, but wherever she turned, he was there. Did he care for her, or was this just his overblown male attitude? So far, nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and the river looked tame enough for a child to swim.
Patrick sat on his horse, his back rigid, as he awaited her response. Part of her wanted to deny him, but she hated snakes, she was fed up with arguing, and the wagon would feel more secure. “I’ll ride with Buckets.”
A look of surprise crossed his face. “Good!”
He swallowed nervously and looked down at the river below them. “There’s one other thing we need to talk about.”
Sabrina scrutinized Patrick. Something in his voice made her raise her guard. This man had been a Texas Ranger and a bounty hunter. He had faced more gunslingers than she cared to remember. Why was he nervous? “What is it, Patrick?”
He cleared his throat “When we cross the river, we enter Indian territory.” Patrick stared at Sabrina. “From now on, to anyone outside our group, you’re my wife.”
Stunned, Sabrina asked, “What?”
Patrick pushed his hat away from his face and wiped his arm across his brow. “Your blonde hair is going to attract more braves than I want to think about.” He paused, clearly uncomfortable in what he was trying to say. “I don’t want anyone to know you’re unmarried.
“Should anyone ride up, pretend we’re married. A greeting party will probably catch up to us sometime in the next few days. When they arrive, I’ll tell them you’re my wife, and please, keep that blonde hair hidden.” Sabrina frowned. He wanted them to pretend to be man and wife? With their past history? A smile flitted across her face.
“What’s funny?” Patrick asked.
A giggle escaped her lips. “Don’t you think it’s ironic that we were almost married and now I’m pretending to be your wife?”
Sabrina’s chuckles filled the air. She laughed from the bottom of her heart releasing the tension—and the anger. It was too funny. He wanted her to make believe she was his wife! They would have been married for over two years and possibly could have had a baby by now if she hadn’t broken their engagement.
Patrick jerked on the reins of his horse and the horse whinnied in protest. The scowl on his face left no question. He was furious. “I fail to see the humor in this situation.”
“Think about it. We’re pretending to be what we almost were.” Sabrina continued laughing until tears begin to
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