“But...but you...you don’t need me.” Her husky voice rose again. “I promise I’ll go straight home and I won’t say a word. I’ll give you time to escape. Please, Mr. Morgan.?
??
Despite the gun in her back, she turned her head, and he nearly melted into her violet eyes. But he steeled his heart against her beauty and innocence. She was an insurance policy, nothing more.
He walked her to the gelding, removed the harness, and unhitched it from the buckboard. Quick as a flash of lightning, he set her on the horse and leaped up behind her. He took a few precious seconds to rub his stiff wrists, trying to ease the rope burn, before he used the razor to cut the reins shorter. A minute later, he’d hooked the sheriff’s belt around his waist, stuffed the razor in his boot, and they were trotting quietly out of town.
“Just who is your pa, anyway, angel?” he asked against her soft neck after they’d escaped the town limits.
“H-He’s the preacher, Mr. Morgan.”
Damnation! He’d kidnapped the preacher’s daughter. He kneed the horse into a gallop and sighed.
He may have avoided the hangman’s noose, but he was surely set to burn in hell.
Chapter Two
Naomi sat stiffly upon old Barney, her derriere sore from three hours of galloping with no saddle. Thankfully her skirt was full enough to allow her to straddle the horse without too much of her legs showing, but the unladylike position still bothered her. Fatigue enveloped her body, yet she held herself stationary, refusing to rest against the handsome outlaw’s chest.
Handsome?
Had she just thought of Robert Morgan as handsome?
So he had clear amber eyes, unfashionably long chestnut hair, and full pink lips. Not to mention a face Michelangelo himself could have sculpted. She jerked forward, catching herself before she melted into his hard torso.
Fear coursed through her, and she shuddered. He’d said he wouldn’t hurt her, but he was a criminal, an outlaw. Truth probably wasn’t at the top of his list of priorities. Pa had taught her to love her fellow man, to practice forgiveness, but was it possible in this situation?
Still, he hadn’t hurt her. Yet. And she was weary. So very weary, and her muscles ached from this difficult ride.
“Angel? You all right?”
She jerked forward again at the melodic sound of Robert Morgan’s deep voice. Her pulse pounded in her neck and she fought to hold her tone steady. “Fine, Mr. Morgan. Why do you ask?”
“You leaned against me, darlin’.” He chuckled. “You’ve been takin’ such great care not to touch me, I figured something must be wrong.”
“I...I’m simply exhausted. We’ve been riding for hours without a saddle, galloping a lot of the way. I ache in...places unmentionable. Could we stop for a while?”
“Yes, this old brute has had about all he’s going to take for one day, I reckon,” Bobby said. “Problem is, we don’t have any supplies. No food. No bedding. No shelter. We’ve got to keep going until we find a place to settle in for the night.”
Naomi gulped, and her hot, sticky body quivered. “The night?”
“Of course. You didn’t think we’d ride all night, did you? Ol’ Barney here would collapse in a heap.”
“But all around us are the hills of the prairie,” she said, taking in the straw-colored grasses, the ragweed and rushes. “Where will we—”
“Now hush, don’t you worry,” he said. “I know this land. I’ve kept off the trails to stay hidden, but I know exactly where we are. See how the rushes are getting thicker?”
Naomi followed the arrow of his thick forefinger.
“Up ahead about a mile, we’ll find a freshwater creek, and we’ll follow it to a small cave where we can take shelter for the night. The night’ll be warm, and we’ll be fine without provisions. I can probably catch us a fish, or maybe even a small rabbit.”
Naomi winced as her stomach growled. She found herself suddenly famished. And while the thought of breaking bread with Mr. Morgan troubled her, her rumbling tummy didn’t find the prospect near as disturbing.
“It’s all right, you know.” His voice clashed into her thoughts.
“What is all right, Mr. Morgan?”
“You can lean on me. I know you’re tired, and I don’t mind.”