Harris Channing Read Online Free

belt and growled. He'd not even
thought of other women in the Biblical sense since Sarah. What in the hell was
he doing?
    "You'll be a drunken baby and
I hope you awaken with the foulest of headaches."
    He stifled a curse and struggled to
stand. "You've a sharp tongue and are a damnable ingrate."
    She pulled the blankets up over her
almost naked body and it took all his self-control not to rip them from her.
Maybe it was the loneliness, or perhaps the booze, but he wanted to see all of
her. Not just the soft outline of her nipples beneath her shift, but the color
of them. Were they pink like as a rosebud? Judging by her fair skin, he assumed
so. But then she was a dark haired beauty...
    Again blood flooded to his groin
and guilt had him slowing his pace. For despite his arousal being the first
normal feeling he'd had in five years, he didn't welcome it. He loathed himself
for his carnal weakness. Hated her for entering his sanctuary and rattling his
resolve.
    Her eyes registered her alarm and
he stopped, watching her glance around the room like a rabbit contemplating
escape from a wolf.
    "How old are you, girl?"
    Her dark brows joined in confusion.
"What?"
    "I said, how old are
you?"
    She straightened her spine and
offered what appeared to be her imperious gaze. "I'll be twenty next
month."
    "Good," he said turning
his back on her. "You're of an age to marry. We'll find you a husband and
get you out of my hair. Reg Crocker is on the look out for a wife. Once you're
healed, I'll introduce you to him."
    "How dare you!" she
shouted. "I am mourning the loss of my family and all you can think to do
is harangue me. How could I have ever thought you a good man?"
    He could hear the tears in her
voice but despite his fresh guilt he kept his back to her.
    "And as for me being in your
hair, that's impossible," she shrieked. "For surely a colony of
skunks already reside in that wilderness."
    He stifled a chuckle. There was no
way she was going to cause him to smile or laugh, she had done enough.
"Really? I stink?" He turned on her and shouted. "That, my dear,
is the pot calling the kettle black."
    Her cheeks flushed a dark crimson
and her lower lip trembled. "I stink?" He watched the angry woman
dissolve into a trembling girl. "I hate it here. I want to go home. I want
my mother."
    All his angst evaporated and he
came to her side. Lowering himself on the bed next to her, he cautiously set
his hand upon her shoulder. She looked up at him with miserable eyes. "I'm
sorry," he mumbled. "I'll see to you."
    She turned away just as the first
tears fell from her eyes but she said nothing. He remained by her side, unsure
as to what to do next. Her quiet sobbing tore at him and was far worse than her
annoying caterwauling. He swallowed the lump in his throat and wondered how it
was she had him wanting to please her, when her very existence ruined his?
    "Bobbie, I have some fresh
clothes, a comb and brush and some…" His voice trailed off. He'd almost
offered her Sarah's perfume. Again his ire built, he couldn't have Bobbie
smelling like her. Seeing another
woman in his wife's clothes, using her things would be bad enough. But to
actually smell Sarah's scent upon another woman? Dear God, how would he cope?
    He jumped to his feet and returned
to the fireplace, filling it with fresh logs and putting on a kettle of water
to warm.
    "Do you want to get cleaned up
or not?"
    She lifted her bandaged hands and
glowered at him. "I want to get dressed and go look for my family, that's
what I want to do."
    "Damnation your head is like a
rock!" He clenched his jaw and pulling on his hood and gloves he marched
toward the door. "I'll go look for them, but if I die, you're on your
own." He knew leaving was a stupid idea, for he was already quite polluted
by drink and a storm was blowing in. But damn it all, the cabin was too small
and if his bumbling across the mountainside dried her up, so be it.
    "When I get home, I'm lacing
your damned oatmeal with