looking up again, and wishing she could see more than a black silhouette framed in the opening.
How did you ask a man if he was there to kill you? But would he have offered to get them out if he meant to shoot them? He could just do it. Then again, he might be under orders from John Longnose to bring them to him. It was too much to hope that he was just a stranger passing by.
“It might help, sir,” Vanessa intervened in theprolonged silence, “if you would tell us who you are—and what you’re doing here.”
“I saw your team of horses racing toward the river and figured they’d left a stagecoach behind, though I’ve never seen horses like that hitched to a stage before.”
“And you just thought to investigate? You aren’t associated with—the Englishman?”
“I’m not associated, as you put it, with anyone, lady. Christ, what is this with all the questions? Either you want out of there or you don’t. Now, I can understand if you feel you’d be dirtying your hand putting it to mine for a lift up”—the impatience turned distinctly bitter here—“but I don’t see much alternative just now—unless you want to wait for the next fellow who comes passing by.”
“Not at all,” Jocelyn said with relief, certain now he meant them no harm. “A little dirt can be easily washed off,” she added with a smile, having misunderstood his meaning.
She surprised him good with that answer, enough that he didn’t immediately grasp the hands she raised to him. And then it dawned on him that she couldn’t really see him. She’d change her tune when she did, quicker than spit. He’d be lucky if he even got a thank you for his help.
Jocelyn gave a little gasp, she was grasped and lifted so fast. She ended up sitting on the coach with her legs still dangling through the door opening. She laughed then at how easily that was accomplished, and glanced back inside to Vanessa, who hadn’t moved yet.
“Are you coming, Vana? It was really quite easy.”
“I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind, my dear. I’d rather wait until the coach can be righted—if it can be done gently, that is. Perhaps this headache will have lessened somewhat by then.”
“Very well,” Jocelyn agreed. “It shouldn’t be that long before Sir Parker finds us.” She looked around, but her rescuer stood directly behind her. She started to rise, turning and saying to him, “She won’t need a lift up. She hit her head, you see, and isn’t feeling…quite…”
The words simply trailed away, forgotten. Jocelyn hadn’t been struck so with awe since her first sight of the pyramids in Egypt. But this was totally different, for more senses than sight were affected. Her whole system seemed to go wild for a moment, sending off signals she wasn’t quite familiar with—breathlessness, accelerated heartbeat, a rush of adrenaline, signs of fear when she wasn’t in the least bit frightened.
He stepped back from her, she wasn’t sure why, but it gave her a better look at him, since he was so tall. Too handsome by half, had been her first impression, followed now by strength, which she had felt firsthand, darkness, and strangeness, in that order. Hair as black as pitch, perfectly straight, and falling well past incredibly wide shoulders. Skin darkly bronze with lean, hawkish features, a nose straight and chiseled, deep-set eyes under low, slashing brows, lips well drawn, and a firm, square jaw.
A long, sinewy body finished the picture, encased in a strange animal-skin jacket with long fringes attached, and knee-high boots without heels, of thesame soft tan skin and also with fringes. Jocelyn was getting used to seeing the gun worn on the hip after her sojourn through Mexico, so his was no surprise, and the wide-brimmed hat that shaded his eyes so she couldn’t determine their color, except that they weren’t dark like the rest of him.
His trousers were dark blue and fairly tight around nicely shaped legs. Nothing unusual in that. But he
How did you ask a man if he was there to kill you? But would he have offered to get them out if he meant to shoot them? He could just do it. Then again, he might be under orders from John Longnose to bring them to him. It was too much to hope that he was just a stranger passing by.
“It might help, sir,” Vanessa intervened in theprolonged silence, “if you would tell us who you are—and what you’re doing here.”
“I saw your team of horses racing toward the river and figured they’d left a stagecoach behind, though I’ve never seen horses like that hitched to a stage before.”
“And you just thought to investigate? You aren’t associated with—the Englishman?”
“I’m not associated, as you put it, with anyone, lady. Christ, what is this with all the questions? Either you want out of there or you don’t. Now, I can understand if you feel you’d be dirtying your hand putting it to mine for a lift up”—the impatience turned distinctly bitter here—“but I don’t see much alternative just now—unless you want to wait for the next fellow who comes passing by.”
“Not at all,” Jocelyn said with relief, certain now he meant them no harm. “A little dirt can be easily washed off,” she added with a smile, having misunderstood his meaning.
She surprised him good with that answer, enough that he didn’t immediately grasp the hands she raised to him. And then it dawned on him that she couldn’t really see him. She’d change her tune when she did, quicker than spit. He’d be lucky if he even got a thank you for his help.
Jocelyn gave a little gasp, she was grasped and lifted so fast. She ended up sitting on the coach with her legs still dangling through the door opening. She laughed then at how easily that was accomplished, and glanced back inside to Vanessa, who hadn’t moved yet.
“Are you coming, Vana? It was really quite easy.”
“I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind, my dear. I’d rather wait until the coach can be righted—if it can be done gently, that is. Perhaps this headache will have lessened somewhat by then.”
“Very well,” Jocelyn agreed. “It shouldn’t be that long before Sir Parker finds us.” She looked around, but her rescuer stood directly behind her. She started to rise, turning and saying to him, “She won’t need a lift up. She hit her head, you see, and isn’t feeling…quite…”
The words simply trailed away, forgotten. Jocelyn hadn’t been struck so with awe since her first sight of the pyramids in Egypt. But this was totally different, for more senses than sight were affected. Her whole system seemed to go wild for a moment, sending off signals she wasn’t quite familiar with—breathlessness, accelerated heartbeat, a rush of adrenaline, signs of fear when she wasn’t in the least bit frightened.
He stepped back from her, she wasn’t sure why, but it gave her a better look at him, since he was so tall. Too handsome by half, had been her first impression, followed now by strength, which she had felt firsthand, darkness, and strangeness, in that order. Hair as black as pitch, perfectly straight, and falling well past incredibly wide shoulders. Skin darkly bronze with lean, hawkish features, a nose straight and chiseled, deep-set eyes under low, slashing brows, lips well drawn, and a firm, square jaw.
A long, sinewy body finished the picture, encased in a strange animal-skin jacket with long fringes attached, and knee-high boots without heels, of thesame soft tan skin and also with fringes. Jocelyn was getting used to seeing the gun worn on the hip after her sojourn through Mexico, so his was no surprise, and the wide-brimmed hat that shaded his eyes so she couldn’t determine their color, except that they weren’t dark like the rest of him.
His trousers were dark blue and fairly tight around nicely shaped legs. Nothing unusual in that. But he
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