The Savage

“Thank you, Dusty.”

Summer allowed him to help her down from the buckboard and then went to the livery door. She could feel her heart pounding as she raised her gloved hand to knock. If Lance was here, he would have heard her arrival, yet he hadn’t come out to greet her. Perhaps he meant to make this as difficult as possible for her.

When she rapped softly, there was a long pause before she heard him call out in a low voice, “It’s open.” Lifting the latch, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Lance was lounging on the narrow bed, his back propped against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. She didn’t think he’d been asleep. He still wore his boots, and he was watching her, his eyes alert and wary.

He didn’t get up in her presence, didn’t offer her a place to sit down. Closing the door behind her, Summer stood awkwardly, uncertain how to deal with his rudeness, or this situation. She could feel his hard gaze roam over her as he took in her appearance: her traveling suit, her sturdy half boots, her kid gloves, her serviceable narrow-brimmed bonnet.

“You came all this way to call on me, princess? I’m honored.”

At the sarcasm in his voice, she felt her temper flare, but she tamped it down. In her circumstances, she couldn’t afford wounded pride. Besides, sparring with him would get her nowhere. “Yes, I came to call,” she said quietly.

“I’m surprised your brother let you.”

“Reed doesn’t know I’m here.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed. “You made that trip alone?”

Hearing the sharp disapproval in his tone, she could almost believe he was concerned for her safety. But no, he would care only that his terms couldn’t be met if something happened to her. “I wasn’t alone. Dusty brought me. He’s waiting outside.”

“You always did have Dusty wrapped around your little finger, along with half the other males in the territory.”

“I didn’t have you,” Summer was stung into retorting.

“Yeah, and that’s what galled you, didn’t it? You had to have me on your string. You had to have me dancing to your tune. And when I wouldn’t, your pa had me run out of the county.”

The fierceness of his eyes made her wince. Summer bit her lip, unable to defend herself. It hadn’t happened quite that way, but she was still responsible.

The silence stretched out for a long moment.

“So have you made up your mind, princess? You gonna sacrifice yourself for your sister?”

“I…I can’t convince you to change your mind?”

“No.”

The single gruff word shriveled her last hope. “If…If I agree to marry you…you’ll find Amelia?”

“I can’t promise I’ll succeed, but I’ll do my level best, yes.”

She wanted to ask what would become of their marriage if they never found Amelia, but she couldn’t allow herself to voice the possibility for fear it might come true. “And afterward? When Amelia is safe? Where…would we live?”

Lance’s glance swept briefly around the room, and his eyes took on a sharp gleam of amusement that had little to do with humor. “Your place is a bit fancier than mine, I’d say. Wouldn’t you rather live on your ranch?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know if you would.”

“I think I could force myself.”

“Would we…What about…” Summer could feel her cheeks flushing. “Marital relations.”

“Would we share a bed, is that what you’re asking?” Lance’s black eyes traveled over her, touching her more intimately than his hands had ever dared. “What do you think?”

“I…didn’t know if you were…interested in me that way.”

Swinging his legs slowly over the edge of the bed, he rose to his feet with the grace of a wild animal and moved to stand before her. Reaching out, he caught her wrist, ignoring her startled, questioning gaze. With careful determination, he drew her gloved hand toward him, placing it directly over his groin, making her feel the hard, swollen ridge of his masculinity.

Summer flinched and tried to pull back, but Lance wouldn’t release her.