Outlaw Hearts by Rosanne Bittner

that doesn’t mean I won’t still do it. Now get back in that bed.”
    Jake wanted to argue the matter, but he knew she was right. He could feel himself growing more light-headed by the minute. If only she’d give him his damn guns. He didn’t intend to use them on her, he just wanted them. The law could come by and check on her any time, and he didn’t believe she’d hide him like she said she would. He started to turn, then realized she would see his bare behind when he did. Fact was, she had apparently seen everything there was to see. It made him feel doubly vulnerable. Taking a man’s clothes was as bad as putting chains on him. Where was he going to go if he couldn’t get dressed? It was funny and infuriating both at the same time. “I have to take a leak,” he told her, wanting to embarrass her. After all, he was embarrassed himself. He gladly watched her face redden.
    â€œThere’s a covered pot in the corner of the bedroom. It’s clean. Use it.” Miranda wished she could keep from blushing, knew he was trying to upset her, perhaps intimidate her. Was everything she had heard about this man true? Thank goodness he was too weak to try anything, but what about when he was stronger? If she had any sense, she would tie him up once she got him back into bed, and she would go for help.
    â€œYour generosity…is appreciated,” he answered sarcastically. He turned, and Miranda forced back a gasp at the sight of deep red scars on the man’s back, which looked as though he had been whipped. She raised the rifle again and aimed it at that back, part of her telling herself to be very, very careful; another part of her strangely touched by the things he had muttered, the scars she had seen; and yet another part of her attracted to his very masculine build, the broad shoulders and solid hips.
    Jake stumbled back into the bedroom, cursing his condition, even angrier that it was because of the woman who held a rifle on him now and who still had the upper hand. How in hell had he gotten into this ridiculous situation? “Do you need any help?” he heard her asking.
    â€œHell, no!” he growled, only hoping he was right. It took every ounce of strength and determination he had left to tend to himself. He heard her walking about in the main room, and he hated this feeling of dependency. He was entirely at the woman’s mercy, when if he had his normal strength he could break her in half—her, the same woman who had shot him in the first place! God, his gut burned, and his head ached so fiercely that he kept seeing bright flashes. Was she really serious about hiding him if someone came? Why in hell would she want to do that? He was worth five thousand dollars! What was that line she fed him about a man’s life being worth more than a reward? Certainly not his life. The woman was either stalling him or a little bit crazy. He just couldn’t figure out which.
    He managed to put the lid back on the pot and stand up long enough to wrap the towel completely around his waist.
    â€œIf you’re able to stand a little longer, I would like to put some clean blankets on the bed, Mr. Harkner.”
    Jake turned to see her standing at the doorway. He twisted the towel so it would stay in place, then braced himself against the chest of drawers. “Go ahead.” He watched her come into the room. She avoided his eyes as she quickly jerked some blankets off the feather mattress. “What about my horse?” he asked. “He needs his saddle—”
    â€œI tended to him last night. Once you’re settled back in this bed, I’ll let him and my own draft horses out to graze. There is some low ground not far from here where there is always water. They’ll find it.”
    He swallowed against a sudden feeling of nausea, hoping she got the bed ready before he passed out. “What if somebody sees him?”
    â€œHe won’t be