Mustang Wild. Stacey KayneЧитать онлайн книгу.
vulnerable to Wade Randal’s sudden advances. Had Garret not come over the rise and shouted her name, Skylar was certain Randal would have attempted much more than the mauling she’d been powerless to fight off.
Thank God I don’t have to learn the same lesson twice. Not that anything could excuse her gross stupidity.
She’d never even liked Randal, but having never been the object of any man’s desire, she hadn’t discouraged his attention. She’d let curiosity get the better of her, and she regretted it. She should have seen the black-haired demon for the snake in the grass he truly was. Instead, she’d been caught up in her embarrassment over their scuffle and had done all she could to avoid the man during the following month, as he secretly plotted to betray her father. Had she kept her guard up, her father might still be alive.
Leaning forward, she dunked her head into the water and ferociously scrubbed the soap from her hair, trying to wash away the shameful memories. As she lifted her head, warm tears mingled with the cool water dripping across her face.
“You can’t turn into a crybaby now,” she scolded, swiping at the hot trails, fighting off the overwhelming sense of helplessness that had plagued her since she’d watched her father die.
She had to be strong for Garret. She had to focus. Too much was at stake. Yesterday she’d been exhausted, hungry and wholly unprepared for…what? Tucker’s charming good looks and kissing skills?
That about summed it up. With a groan, she sank deeper into the soapy water, not wanting to believe what an utter fool she’d made of herself and quite thankful that Tucker had been in such an almighty hurry to undo their hoax of a marriage.
Brutality and guns she could have handled, but one ludicrous compliment, a dashing smile and Lord have mercy, the way he’d kissed her…it wasn’t any wonder he’d sent her mind into a haze of confusion. He had held her with a gentleness and kissed her with a tenderness she hadn’t believed a man was capable of, especially not a man of Tucker’s size and strength.
He also muscled you out of the saloon. He certainly hadn’t been flashing any smiles this morning. She’d seen the spark in his eyes before he’d left, and knew he’d been calculating just how fast he could get rid of them. She couldn’t let that happen. It wouldn’t happen, not while she had the deed in her possession.
The sound of a horse’s heavy hoofbeats coming into the yard jolted Skylar from her thoughts. Tucker must have blazed a trail to town and back, because she’d not expected him to return so soon. They were a good hour’s ride from Black Dog, yet she could swear he’d hardly been gone two full hours. Judging by the hard language carrying through the rotted wood of the cabin, things hadn’t gone well in town, but she didn’t have time to concern herself with Tucker’s mood, her main concern being her state of undress as she sprang from the small washtub.
The door began to squeak open as she reached for the drying sheet she’d laid on the table. Frantic, she grabbed the clean skillet instead and flung it toward the door.
“What the—” Tucker’s deep voice dropped off just before the door slammed shut and the skillet banged against it. “Skylar!”
“Stay out,” she shouted. “I’m not dressed!” Wrapping the linen around herself, she hurried into the bedroom.
Standing outside, Tucker heard the bedroom door slam shut.
These Daines kids were a menace to society, and obviously hell-bent on busting his head open! After being laughed out of Big Jack’s, he was in no mood to dodge frying pans. He didn’t find one damn bit of humor in the news of his bride’s assault against him, but the whole town of Black Dog sure did.
He waited a moment then carefully peeked into the cabin. The strong scent of soap hung in the air as Tucker scanned the perimeter for danger of flying kitchenware. Seeing that all was clear, he stepped inside.
“Is an iron skillet your weapon of choice?” he called toward the bedroom as he picked it up and dropped it onto the table. He didn’t have a hangover, he had a concussion.
“You could have knocked first,” Skylar called from behind the bedroom door.
“It’s my cabin!” Although, it sure as hell didn’t look like it. She’d taken over the place. Damp clothes hung from a rope she’d secured across the corner where the stove stood. More were draped over the two chairs she’d placed in front of the stove. She’d also been cooking. He didn’t see any trace of bread or biscuits, but he detected the faint scent of baked goods amidst the scent of soap. Some fresh biscuits or maybe a couple of flapjacks could certainly help to ease his headache.
“Did you take care of the marriage?” she asked from the bedroom.
“Not exactly,” Tucker bit out. He picked up a rag from the table and dropped it on a puddle of water beside the small, water-filled washtub. His gaze followed Skylar’s wet footprints across the dingy wood floor to the door of his bedroom.
This woman is trouble. The sooner he unloaded her, the better. He turned his attention back toward the stove.
“Seems we’ll have to ride up into Santa Fe to have it annulled,” he said, scouting around for possible leftover baked goods. “Being a railroad town, they have a telegraph office. You can contact a family member from there. Since you’re a friend of my brother’s, I’d be happy to pay for your fare to wherever you need to go.”
The bedroom door banged open as Skylar’s sharp tone shot through the cabin, echoing in Tucker’s throbbing skull. “So you can conveniently steal our land?”
Tucker spun around. “Your land?” he countered, just before his eyes made contact with a sight that nearly brought him to his knees in a hard rush of unexpected desire.
The woman was half-naked! Standing there in nothing but one of his blue button-up shirts. Dear God—she had legs for a mile.
His eyes slowly worked back up those long, ivory limbs, then stopped on the hard piece of metal aimed at his chest. Where the hell did she get a revolver? Her thumb slipped over the hammer and pulled it back. Her steady hand and hard gaze told him she might know how to use the blasted thing.
“The only place we need to go is Wyoming, Mr. Morgan. Now, I suggest you wait outside until my clothes have dried. We can discuss our business arrangement then.”
The Daines family certainly had a fetish for firearms and frying pans. But then, he had been gaping at her. What the hell did she expect with what she had on? “Don’t worry, Miss Daines, I am a gentleman.”
Her slender, arching eyebrows called him a liar, and Tucker felt downright insulted. “As soon as your clothes are dry, we’ll ride into Santa Fe and get that annulment.”
“No.”
“No?” Tucker repeated, certain she hadn’t comprehended his meaning.
Skylar drew a deep, calming breath as she felt the tables beginning to tip in her favor. Her weak-minded mistake suddenly began to glow with appeal. Morgan couldn’t cast her and Garret aside while she was married to him. “No. I won’t consent to an annulment,” she said, the cold grip of fear easing as she watched his face contort with surprise. “I believe I’m starting to like the sound of Skylar Morgan.”
“Lady, what are you trying to pull? You don’t want to be married any more than I do!”
True. But she knew leverage when she was married to it. “You can have your annulment the moment my feet are on my Wyoming soil.”
“Damn it, woman! You don’t seem to understand the situation. Chance only has one partner, and you’re lookin’ at him. The only reason your father had that deed is because he asked for it. He gave my brother some cockamamy story about needing proof that we intended to buy his horses and Chance trusted him enough to hold on to our deed.”
He was lying! He had to be lying. Her father had plainly stated he and Chance were partners.
“It’s going to take us weeks