you. I'm made out of flesh and blood and whatever else it is that God puts into men. I want you. Now. Hell, I could have wanted you right after I ripped another man away from you. I'm no better than he is, not really. Don't you understand?'
She drew herself up against the wall. She hated him, and she hated herself. She had lost again.
'I only know that I need you. Emotion! I saw my father murdered, and Adam…'
'Yes, and Adam.'
'And Adam is dead, too. So if you're worried about some kind of emotional commitment, you're a fool. I want help against Zeke Moreau.'
'You want me to kill him.'
'It's worth any price.'
'I told you… I don't murder men in cold blood.'
'Then I just want protection.'
'How badly?'
'Desperately. You know that.'
'Show me.'
She stepped toward him and placed her hands around his neck. Suddenly she realized that she hadn't the least idea of what to do. Instinct guided her, instinct and nothing more.
She stepped closer, pressing against him so that she could feel the length of his naked body through the thin silk of her gown. She wound her arms around his neck and came up on tiptoe to press her lips against his, summoning up the memory of the kiss he had given her. She felt him, felt the instrument of his desire pulsing against her. She felt the muscles of his chest and belly and thighs. Then she felt his arms, powerful around her.
Then she plunged her tongue into his mouth and the world began to spin. She had come to seduce him, and she was ready to fall against him, longing for him to sweep her away.
To help her…
She felt the passion in him as he held her, and for a moment, victory was hers. She burned, she longed, with an astonishing hunger, and she could not know where it would lead. His lips held hers, his mouth devoured hers, and with each second that passed she entered deeper into a world that was pure sensation. Her pulse soared, and there was a pounding in her ears that was like the rush of the sea. His kiss was her life, his body was her support. She was afraid, and she was ecstatic.
And then he suddenly pushed her away. His breathing was coming rough and ragged. He watched her for a long, long moment. She felt his eyes on her, felt them as she would have felt an approaching storm. Then he shook his head.
'Go to bed, Kristin.'
She inhaled sharply, furiously. 'You let me make a complete fool of myself and then you — Damn you!'
Kristin slammed her fists against his shoulders, catching him off guard. He staggered, and she found the doorknob. Throwing the door open, she tore across the hall. She threw herself onto her own bed, tears hovering behind her lashes, fury rising in her throat.
The door crashed open behind her, and she spun around. He had followed her across the hall without even bothering to dress.
'Get out of here!' she snapped, enraged.
He ignored her and strode calmly toward the bed. Kristin shot up, determined to fight. It was all to no avail. His long stride quickly brought him to her. She came to her knees hastily, but he joined her on the bed, grabbing her hands and pressing her down.
'I should scream!' she told him. 'Samson would come and —'
'Then scream.'
She held her breath. He pressed her down on the bed and straddled her.
'Why won't you leave me alone?'
'You wanted to make a deal,' he said harshly.
'What?'
'You said you wanted to make a deal. All right. Let's talk. I'm willing to negotiate.'
PART 2
CHAPTER FOUR
Kristin was glad the room was steeped in darkness. His features were shadowed, his body was shadowed, and she prayed that her own emotions were hidden by the night. She wanted to hate him. She could not. She wanted to think, to reason, and she could think of nothing but the hard male body so hot and intimate against her own.
He had come here, naked, to accept her proposition, it seemed. And yet he was angry again, angrier even than before. Hard and bitter and angry.
Moonlight cast a sudden soft glow over the room. She saw his features, and they were harsh, taut, almost cruel, as if he were fighting some inner pain.
'Negotiate?' she whispered.
'First, Miss Kristin, if you're going to play a game of chance, make sure you're playing with a full deck.'
'I don't know what —'
'Exactly. That's why I'm going to explain things to you. I'll meet any man in a fair fight, but I won't go out and commit murder, not for you, not for myself, not for anyone. Do you understand?'
She nodded. She didn't understand him at all, but she was suddenly too afraid to do anything else. She had lost her mind. The war and the bloodshed had made her insane. She, Kristin McCahy, raised to live up to the highest standards of Southern womanhood, was lying on her bed with a naked stranger.
And she wasn't screaming.
'No involvement, Miss Kristin.' The mock drawl was back in his voice, making her wonder again where he hailed from. She was filled with awareness of him. His muscled chest was plastered with crisp dark hair. She thought of how quickly he had drawn his Colts and his rifle, and she shivered. He carried with him an aura of danger that drew her to him despite her best intentions.
His sex pulsed against her belly, and she fought wildly to keep her eyes glued to his. It was all she could do to remember that she had intended to seduce him, to leave him gasping and longing and aching, his tongue hanging out for her.
He would never long for her that way, she realized now. Nor would he be denied. He had mocked her, but now he was determined to have her, and she felt sure he must despise her more with each passing second.
She steeled herself and whispered harshly, 'No involvement. You needn't worry. I need a gunslinger. I could never love one.'
A slight smile curved his lip. 'This deal is made on my terms, lady. No involvement, no questions. And I won't murder Zeke. I'll go after him when I can. I'll do my damnedest to keep you and Shannon safe and your place together. But I've got other commitments, too, Kristin. And I can't forget them.'
She didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say or do, didn't know where to go from here. This was so easy for him. He was so casual. He didn't even seem to know he was naked.
He touched her cheek, brushing it with his fingertips. 'Why?' he said suddenly.
She shook her head, uncomprehending. 'Why what?'
'This is all Zeke wanted.'
'I hate Zeke. I hate him more than you could ever imagine. He killed my father. I'd rather bed a bison than that bastard.'
'I see. And I'm a step above a bison?'
'A step below.'
'I can still leave.'
Panic filled her. She wanted to reach out and keep him from disappearing, but her pride wouldn't let her. Then she realized that he was smiling again, that he was amused. He leaned down low and spoke to her softly. His breath caressed her flesh, and the soft hair of his beard teased her chin. 'There's one more point to this bargain,
