she rattled the bushes a bit before stepping into the clearing. He glanced at her outfit, but didn’t say a word. No doubt comparing her to all the southern belles he’d grown up with.
“So talk.” Elisa sat down with her legs criss-crossed and her father’s Colt pistol in her hand, cocked and ready. Her knife was strapped to her waist within easy reach.
“Hello to you too.”
She waved her hand in the air. “No need for formalities.”
“It wasn’t a formality. It was courtesy.”
“Something a lady would do then?” She narrowed her gaze.
“No, something anyone would do to be polite.” He straightened his dark coat and she followed the curve of the fabric across his wide shoulders.
“All right, then, hello, Nathaniel Marchand, my friends call me Nate, but you’ll answer to Lieutenant.”
When he smiled, it stole her breath. Like a witch’s spell, the effect of his beautiful white teeth resonated through her. She hoped to God he couldn’t see that her body had grown so rigid, she was afraid she’d shoot herself.
Sweet Mary and all the Saints. Nathaniel Marchand was more than trouble. He was her downfall.
“Hello there yourself, Miss Elisa Taggert. I’m pleased you offered to speak with me this afternoon.”
“Uh, yeah, all right.” Blithering idiot. She cleared her throat in an effort to rein in her out-of-control body. “What do you want to talk about?”
“As you know, my associates and I have a business, D.H. Enterprises. We were recently hired to assist some folks with relocating their homestead.” He pulled at his collar and she saw his Adam’s apple bob. “I was hoping you could see your way to, ah, helping us.”
Elisa shook her head to blow out the confusion—she had to focus on his fancy talk. “Assist what folks?”
“A family.”
She got up on her knees and crawled toward him, the gun heavy in her hand. “What family?”
He glanced at the weapon, then back up at her face. “Ah, a local family.”
“That bastard hired you to get rid of us, didn’t he? I knew it!” A burst of red ran across her vision. “All this fancy shit of yours and what was it for? To confuse me?”
“No, of course not. I just wanted to t—”
“I’m done talking, Marchand, and I’m sure as hell done listening.” She stuck the barrel of the gun against his throat. “You stay the hell off Taggert land or I won’t miss that pretty head of yours next time.”
“You think my head is pretty?” He blinked rapidly as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.
“You know you’re a handsome man, so don’t act all stupid about it. I aim to see how handsome.” Elisa’s impulses always got the best of her. The urge to see him, all of him, was too much to resist. Her body took over and her mind was powerless to stop it. “Now strip.”
“Strip?”
She pushed the barrel deeper into his flesh. “Strip.”
He didn’t move so she decided to “assist” him. With a wicked grin, she pulled the knife from its scabbard and sliced off two of the buttons from his shirt. The small patch of olive-toned skin made her mouth water. She couldn’t wait to see the rest of it.
“I can slice your throat open or shoot you and be away in seconds. Your friends will never find out who killed you. Your choice. Strip or I’ll make sure there are only four of you Devils.”
The idea of making him strip seemed ludicrous when it popped out of her mouth, but now her nipples pebbled with the idea of seeing Nate Marchand in the flesh. All the flesh. Her body pounded with anticipation and arousal. Nate looked murderous as he bent sideways to pick up the buttons she’d sliced off and put them in his pocket. The barrel of the gun slid against his skin, leaving a pink line on his throat.
When he started unbuttoning his shirt, she sat back and watched the show. The barrel of the pistol never wavered, but Elisa shook with the fierce need to touch all that she saw. Acres of maleness covered with a fine sprinkling
“So talk.” Elisa sat down with her legs criss-crossed and her father’s Colt pistol in her hand, cocked and ready. Her knife was strapped to her waist within easy reach.
“Hello to you too.”
She waved her hand in the air. “No need for formalities.”
“It wasn’t a formality. It was courtesy.”
“Something a lady would do then?” She narrowed her gaze.
“No, something anyone would do to be polite.” He straightened his dark coat and she followed the curve of the fabric across his wide shoulders.
“All right, then, hello, Nathaniel Marchand, my friends call me Nate, but you’ll answer to Lieutenant.”
When he smiled, it stole her breath. Like a witch’s spell, the effect of his beautiful white teeth resonated through her. She hoped to God he couldn’t see that her body had grown so rigid, she was afraid she’d shoot herself.
Sweet Mary and all the Saints. Nathaniel Marchand was more than trouble. He was her downfall.
“Hello there yourself, Miss Elisa Taggert. I’m pleased you offered to speak with me this afternoon.”
“Uh, yeah, all right.” Blithering idiot. She cleared her throat in an effort to rein in her out-of-control body. “What do you want to talk about?”
“As you know, my associates and I have a business, D.H. Enterprises. We were recently hired to assist some folks with relocating their homestead.” He pulled at his collar and she saw his Adam’s apple bob. “I was hoping you could see your way to, ah, helping us.”
Elisa shook her head to blow out the confusion—she had to focus on his fancy talk. “Assist what folks?”
“A family.”
She got up on her knees and crawled toward him, the gun heavy in her hand. “What family?”
He glanced at the weapon, then back up at her face. “Ah, a local family.”
“That bastard hired you to get rid of us, didn’t he? I knew it!” A burst of red ran across her vision. “All this fancy shit of yours and what was it for? To confuse me?”
“No, of course not. I just wanted to t—”
“I’m done talking, Marchand, and I’m sure as hell done listening.” She stuck the barrel of the gun against his throat. “You stay the hell off Taggert land or I won’t miss that pretty head of yours next time.”
“You think my head is pretty?” He blinked rapidly as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.
“You know you’re a handsome man, so don’t act all stupid about it. I aim to see how handsome.” Elisa’s impulses always got the best of her. The urge to see him, all of him, was too much to resist. Her body took over and her mind was powerless to stop it. “Now strip.”
“Strip?”
She pushed the barrel deeper into his flesh. “Strip.”
He didn’t move so she decided to “assist” him. With a wicked grin, she pulled the knife from its scabbard and sliced off two of the buttons from his shirt. The small patch of olive-toned skin made her mouth water. She couldn’t wait to see the rest of it.
“I can slice your throat open or shoot you and be away in seconds. Your friends will never find out who killed you. Your choice. Strip or I’ll make sure there are only four of you Devils.”
The idea of making him strip seemed ludicrous when it popped out of her mouth, but now her nipples pebbled with the idea of seeing Nate Marchand in the flesh. All the flesh. Her body pounded with anticipation and arousal. Nate looked murderous as he bent sideways to pick up the buttons she’d sliced off and put them in his pocket. The barrel of the gun slid against his skin, leaving a pink line on his throat.
When he started unbuttoning his shirt, she sat back and watched the show. The barrel of the pistol never wavered, but Elisa shook with the fierce need to touch all that she saw. Acres of maleness covered with a fine sprinkling
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