and nester wives?”
“But my plan doesn't involve violence,” she protested.
“Like hell it doesn't!”
“I don't understand what you mean.”
The gunslinger smirked. “Of course you don't. A spinster lady like yourself wouldn't know the danger of playing with that kind of fire.”
His eyes took a lazy tour of her face and form, lingering at last on her mouth. Miss Devlin was uncomfortable with the growing ardor in his gaze as his lids lowered over his dark eyes. She thought he might be mocking her again, but she hadn't enough experience with this sort of thing to know for sure.
“If you have something to say, Mr. Kerrigan, why don't you come out and say it?”
“Sex can be a powerful weapon.”
“What?” Miss Devlin flushed. She should have expected a scoundrel like him to use
that
word in mixed company.
“At least, you've turned it into one, the way you've got wives making demands in exchange for their favors. Frightening when you think about it. . . .”
He let his voice trail off, leaving Eden to contemplate the enormity of his accusation. “I only wanted to offer a peaceful solution—”
“You call dallying with the bedroom affairs between husbands and wives
peaceful
?” he asked incredulously. “Where did you ever get a crazy idea like that?”
“I . . . I just thought—”
“—a thought based on ignorance. You, of all people, should know the importance of making educated decisionMiss Devlin. I could give you a lesson—”
“I don't have to know—”
“—right now that would give you a pretty good idea of the powerful passions you've set in motion.”
He stepped closer as he spoke, and Miss Devlin was suddenly aware of how tall he was, how broad his shoulders, how narrow his hips. He was close enough that she could see the fine laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, the slanting scar on his cheek, the shadow of dark beard on his face. She could actually smell him, the scents at once foreign and familiar. Saddle leather. Sweat. A musky smell both strange and alluring.
His entire posture challenged her, daring her to stand her ground. The urge was there to retreat. But she had already learned that when she ran, he pursued. Miss Devlin wasn't about to give him another chance to play fox and hare with her. She stood rigidly in place, chin up, shoulders back, defiant. She swallowed despite the dryness of her mouth and demanded, “What kind of lesson did you have in mind, Mr. Kerrigan?”
“A kiss, Miss Devlin.”
“That's all?”
“That's enough,” he said with a roguish grin.
She shivered and told herself it was from the chill in the schoolroom, although that hardly seemed likely with the heat from his body nearly scorching her. She vehemently denied to herself any possibility that what she had experienced was a quiver of anticipation. It was a lot more likely she was shaking with fear of . . . of the unknown.
Miss Devlin had only been kissed once, when she was thirteen. It hadn't been a particularly moving experience because fourteen-year-old Roger Freeland's lips had been chapped and cracked from the cold. He had mashed her lips against her teeth so hard she had been glad when it was over. Eden found it hard to believe a simple kiss could be as dangerous as Mr. Kerrigan suggested. Yet she definitely felt threatened right now.
She subconsciously licked her lips and rubbed her sweaty palms against her merino skirt. “You're saying that if I kiss you I'll regret the course of action I've taken with the rancher and nester wives?”
“I'm sure of it.”
“We'll just see,” she said. “Go ahead and kiss me.”
Miss Devlin's voice was calm, but her pulse was racing. She squinted her eyes closed and tipped her chin upward, pursing her lips for his kiss. She waited a moment, but nothing happened. Then she heard a burst of rich, masculine laughter.
Startled, she
“But my plan doesn't involve violence,” she protested.
“Like hell it doesn't!”
“I don't understand what you mean.”
The gunslinger smirked. “Of course you don't. A spinster lady like yourself wouldn't know the danger of playing with that kind of fire.”
His eyes took a lazy tour of her face and form, lingering at last on her mouth. Miss Devlin was uncomfortable with the growing ardor in his gaze as his lids lowered over his dark eyes. She thought he might be mocking her again, but she hadn't enough experience with this sort of thing to know for sure.
“If you have something to say, Mr. Kerrigan, why don't you come out and say it?”
“Sex can be a powerful weapon.”
“What?” Miss Devlin flushed. She should have expected a scoundrel like him to use
that
word in mixed company.
“At least, you've turned it into one, the way you've got wives making demands in exchange for their favors. Frightening when you think about it. . . .”
He let his voice trail off, leaving Eden to contemplate the enormity of his accusation. “I only wanted to offer a peaceful solution—”
“You call dallying with the bedroom affairs between husbands and wives
peaceful
?” he asked incredulously. “Where did you ever get a crazy idea like that?”
“I . . . I just thought—”
“—a thought based on ignorance. You, of all people, should know the importance of making educated decisionMiss Devlin. I could give you a lesson—”
“I don't have to know—”
“—right now that would give you a pretty good idea of the powerful passions you've set in motion.”
He stepped closer as he spoke, and Miss Devlin was suddenly aware of how tall he was, how broad his shoulders, how narrow his hips. He was close enough that she could see the fine laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, the slanting scar on his cheek, the shadow of dark beard on his face. She could actually smell him, the scents at once foreign and familiar. Saddle leather. Sweat. A musky smell both strange and alluring.
His entire posture challenged her, daring her to stand her ground. The urge was there to retreat. But she had already learned that when she ran, he pursued. Miss Devlin wasn't about to give him another chance to play fox and hare with her. She stood rigidly in place, chin up, shoulders back, defiant. She swallowed despite the dryness of her mouth and demanded, “What kind of lesson did you have in mind, Mr. Kerrigan?”
“A kiss, Miss Devlin.”
“That's all?”
“That's enough,” he said with a roguish grin.
She shivered and told herself it was from the chill in the schoolroom, although that hardly seemed likely with the heat from his body nearly scorching her. She vehemently denied to herself any possibility that what she had experienced was a quiver of anticipation. It was a lot more likely she was shaking with fear of . . . of the unknown.
Miss Devlin had only been kissed once, when she was thirteen. It hadn't been a particularly moving experience because fourteen-year-old Roger Freeland's lips had been chapped and cracked from the cold. He had mashed her lips against her teeth so hard she had been glad when it was over. Eden found it hard to believe a simple kiss could be as dangerous as Mr. Kerrigan suggested. Yet she definitely felt threatened right now.
She subconsciously licked her lips and rubbed her sweaty palms against her merino skirt. “You're saying that if I kiss you I'll regret the course of action I've taken with the rancher and nester wives?”
“I'm sure of it.”
“We'll just see,” she said. “Go ahead and kiss me.”
Miss Devlin's voice was calm, but her pulse was racing. She squinted her eyes closed and tipped her chin upward, pursing her lips for his kiss. She waited a moment, but nothing happened. Then she heard a burst of rich, masculine laughter.
Startled, she
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