Big Sky Rancher by Carolyn Davidson Page B

those blue eyes.
    â€œYou’re welcome,” he intoned, and hid his smile. Peering through his lashes was not a satisfactory method, but he’d managed to catch more than a glimpse of pleasing curves. She was slender almost to the point of thinness, as he’d told her earlier, but her legs were rounded and well-formed, her hips narrow but shapely, and though he had only seen the front view, it was enough to keep him happy for the rest of the night.
    Well, maybe not happy, but at least hopeful of a second viewing in the morning when he helped her put her clothing on. For now, he’d crawl in behind her and enjoy the proximity of a woman’s warmth, with the pure satisfaction of knowing that this woman was his wife and would one day turn to him with passion lighting her gaze.

CHAPTER FOUR
    S OMEHOW she’d managed to locate an all-enveloping robe and get herself into it by the time Luc awakened. He watched her as she reached thoughtlessly to turn the knob on the bedroom door, and heard her soft cry of pain.
    â€œStand still, Jennifer. I’ll get the door,” he said, swinging his feet to the floor.
    â€œI can do it,” she retorted, using her other hand to awkwardly twist the knob. The woman was not left-handed, he decided. And burning her right hand had damaged her independence, no matter how capable she might consider herself to be.
    He’d stripped to his drawers last night and now they outlined, only too well, the shape of his early morning problem. So used to his inability to do anything about it, he ignored the pulsing of his erection and approached the door and the woman who stood in front of it, her gaze glued to his groin.
    â€œDon’t come any closer,” she whispered. Had she not been trembling, he might have laughed and ignored her words. As it was, he felt a pang of regret that he’d so frightened her to this point and, after less than twenty-four hours, become a brute in her sight.
    â€œI’m only going to open the door for you,” he murmured, not halting his advance but slowing his steps, giving her timeto move aside. Small, bare feet peeked from beneath the hemline of her robe, making her appear vulnerable and, somehow, almost naked.
    â€œThank you.” It was a whisper, an automatic response from a well-brought-up young lady, and he smiled. The woman had little to be thankful for, as far as he could see.
    Her independence had been shattered, her virtue violated—though not in the sense he’d have preferred—and she was in pain due to his impetuous behavior. He’d riled her to the point of total frustration, causing her to lose her balance and burn her hand, and now he loomed over her like her worst nightmare. And still she thanked him.
    Guilt flooded him, even though he was still aching to clutch her against himself and spend his lust on her slender body. Jennifer was no more ready to be swept off her feet, and into his bed, than she was to fly from the barn roof. Her fear was palpable, her pain obvious and unless he missed his guess, she was about five seconds from dissolving into tears.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he muttered, standing in front of her, feeling like the worst sort of bully. “Just let me help you, sweetheart.”
    She blanched. There was no other word for it. A scattering of freckles stood out in bold relief, peppering her cheeks. He hadn’t noticed them before, he mused, probably because she’d spent yesterday in a perpetual state of anger, her face flushed with emotion.
    He turned the knob and opened the door wide, allowing her to slip across the threshold with haste, her sidelong glance telegraphing her fear that he might lay a hand on her. No chance of that. He’d already decided to tuck his lust away for another day and try to make amends for his blundering.
    He couldn’t follow her down the stairs until he was dressed,so he turned from her retreating back to where his clothing was