Whirlwind Wedding by Debra Cowan Page B

life.”
    She believed him. Or wanted to. “It’s forgotten now.”
    â€œIs it? You’re pale and you were afraid of me.”
    â€œIt’s over. Why don’t you rest—”
    â€œC’mon, Catherine. I know something was going on in that head of yours. What did I do to make you tense up like I was going to take a whip to you?”
    â€œNothing. You startled me. And I certainly didn’t expect Andrew to come charging in that way.”
    â€œSomething happened in here, Miz Donnelly.” The Ranger’s voice turned soft and coaxing. “I’d like to know if it was because of me.”
    â€œAnd if it was?” She didn’t like being pressed on this issue. She had no intention of allowing herself to get so close to him again. “As I said, I was startled. There was no harm done.”
    â€œSomeone hurt you. A man you knew? Or didn’t know?”
    She wasn’t stirring up those memories again. “I was raised by nuns, Lieutenant. There were no men there.”
    His narrow gaze said he didn’t believe her, but Catherine didn’t care. She wasn’t about to tell him he was the first man to excite her more than frighten her.
    Fear was the least of what washed through her right now. The sight of him sitting on the side of her bed turned her insides soft and warm. Hazy lamplight sculpted the hard muscles of the wide shoulders and chest that had been pressed against her only moments ago.
    His gaze bored into hers, then dropped to her lips, sparking that unfamiliar warmth low in her belly.
    She couldn’t seem to stop remembering the undeniable press of his arousal. Her gaze went there involuntarily and a curious heat swept through her. Even now, he strained against the cotton of his drawers.
    â€œYour leg,” she gasped, stepping reflexively into the room. “It’s bleeding again.”
    Blood glued the fabric to the corded muscles of his thigh and molded the part of him that had frightened and excited her only minutes ago. “I’d better change your dressing.”
    â€œI’ll do it,” he growled, grabbing the pillow and putting it in his lap.
    â€œBut what if you’ve torn the stitches?”
    â€œI’m fine.”
    â€œI think I should—”
    â€œI can’t imagine you’re that eager to get so close to me again, Miz Donnelly. I can change the bandage myself.”
    His words stung, but they were true. “Very well. I’ll bring you some fresh dressings with some soap and water.”
    He nodded curtly.
    Knowing that he wanted her should’ve scared her senseless, but her apprehension was outweighed by the curiosity that had nagged since he had arrived at her front door. Curiosity she had no intention of indulging.
    Turning, she walked out to get the things Jericho would need to change his bandage. The nurse in her insisted on tending him; the woman in her couldn’t get close.
    Â 
    He slept poorly. Blood soaked through his fresh bandage and his drawers stuck to him. The pain didn’t do much to keep his mind off the fact that he’d been powerfully aroused last night and Catherine had borne witness to it.
    Jericho couldn’t recall the last time he had taken his ease with a woman. Now, thanks to the brush of Catherine’s breasts against him, that was about all he wanted.
    Since he’d started chasing the McDougals, his focus had been solely on the outlaws. He’d spent more time contemplating a woman in the last week than he had in nearly two years. Not just any woman, but one who had kindly taken him in and tended his wounds. One whose brother had most likelygiven Jericho those wounds. The terror in Catherine’s eyes was as much to blame for his sleeplessness as the discomfort of his freshly opened wound. But it was her words that pricked at him.
    â€œGet off,” she’d said.
    He hadn’t been on her, hadn’t been touching her at all right