The Outlaw's Angel (Daughters of the Prairie 1)

“It would hardly be proper,” Naomi said, straightening.

“Angel, we’ve been ridin’ hard without a saddle, and we’ve got a mile to go.”

Though his breath was warm against her neck, she shivered.

“I don’t plan on keepin’ you, you know.”

“Wh-What?”

“We’ll hit a railroad camp about midday tomorrow,” he said. “The cook there—Bessie’s her name—is a real nice lady. I’ll leave you with her and make arrangements for someone to take you home.”

“Oh.” Naomi breathed in relief. “But a railroad camp. Mr. Morgan, I don’t think—”

“Hush now. You’ll be perfectly safe. I never meant you any harm, angel. I hope you believe that. I just had no choice.”

“I...” She couldn’t finish. A lump hardened in her throat.

“Just lean back. We’ll be there soon.”

Naomi sighed and let her body melt backward into his solid chest. She closed her eyes, Barney’s trot a steady, soothing cadence.

* * *

A soft whisper of breath caressed Naomi’s cheek.

“Wake up, angel.”

A strong hand gripped her upper arm. She opened her eyes to clear water trickling over silver stones. Her breath caught at the beauty.

“What is this place?”

“The creek I told you about,” Bobby said. “It’s fresh, and you must be thirsty. I know Barney here is. So let’s get down so he can drink. Steady now.”

He dismounted and pulled Naomi down. She slid off Barney’s slick back and into the arms of her captor. Her breasts pressed into his hard chest and her skin tingled when she grasped his shoulders for support. Such hard, muscled shoulders. Her cheeks warmed as she raised her gaze to his manly face. His eyes had darkened to a rich brandy, and his mouth was slowly descending toward hers.

A kiss. He was going to steal a kiss.

The prospect of those full, firm lips on her own frightened her. And excited her. Which frightened her even more.

Her first kiss.

And it would be from a man who had abducted her. An outlaw accused of murder.

No. Absolutely not.

She stiffened in his arms. His eyes narrowed, their lighter color returning. The moment had passed.

She shivered, hoping he didn’t notice how his touch had affected her. Relief swept through her as she loosened her grip on his shoulders and slid her hands down his arms. When she reached his hands, he clasped one of hers and led her to the creek.

Barney eagerly sucked at the cool water, but Naomi hesitated.

“It’s cool and fresh,” Bobby said, “Come on.”

She knelt, cupped her hands, and let the crisp liquid soothe her parched throat. When she’d had enough, she rose and brushed her soiled skirts. She turned and breathed in the enticing woodsy fragrance of the little meadow. She had admired the endless prairie from her father’s homestead claim but had never ventured outward to the land that called to her. How she’d longed, during her walks on Pa’s claim, to run into the hills that beckoned her with their wildflowers and their chirping birds.

But though they held beauty, they also held dangers, her pa said. Wild animals, and worse. Indians.

She closed her eyes and inhaled. Pine. And fresh dirt. There were no wild animals here. No Indians.