The Gunslinger Read Online Free Page B

knew a longing so intense that he nearly doubled over with it.
    He missed all the things he’d never have: meals prepared by a woman with loving care, a home where he could sit in the middle of the room, children who looked up to him . . . and a woman who loved him.
    L ILLIAN CURSED HER shaking hands as she unwound the bandages from around Chance Wilder’s shoulder as he sat on the bed in her room. Her gaze slipped lower. A fine sprinkling of hair covered his chest. Tenderly, she touched her fingers to the wound and felt him stiffen. “I’m sorry. I just want to make certain no infection is brewing. You’re really fortunate that the bullet went clean through.”
    â€œYep.”
    She’d had to dig out some bits of cloth, but thankfully no lead. Her fingers strayed to a scar on his shoulder, the remnants of another wound. Other scars marked his arm. “Do you always get shot in a gunfight?”
    â€œI usually come away with a nick or two. Like I said, I’m not fast.”
    â€œThen why do you do it?”
    â€œWhy do you stay here when you’re not wanted?”
    Her fingers stilled as she studied his eyes. Silver like the gun he wore. She reached for clean bandages and began to redress the wound. “I have my reasons,” she stated softly.
    â€œAnd I have mine.”
    He bit back a groan when she jerked the bandage into a knot. “But you kill!” she spat, loathing laced through her voice.
    â€œYou wanted him to rape you?”
    Horrified at the callousness of his words, the ease with which he spoke of such brutality, she stepped back. “No, but you could have wounded him.”
    He gave a long thoughtful nod. “Could have.”
    â€œYou should have. Wounding him would have stopped him as effectively as killing him.”
    â€œWould have stopped him this week. But what about the next? Or the one after that? You protest and act disgusted as though I killed an innocent man. One of his boys held a gun to your brother’s temple. You think he wouldn’t have given the order to shoot?”
    Pressing a hand to her mouth, she spun around. Yes, he would have killed her brother to gain what he wanted from her. She pivoted back around. “Who are you to be judge, jury, and executioner?”
    â€œHe knew my reputation. He drew first. If I’d wounded him, he would have come after me, and he would have seen to it the odds weren’t so even because then it would have been a matter of revenge. I learned the hard way to never leave a man who drew on me breathing, because he’ll find another time to draw on me—usually when my back is turned.”
    â€œHow can you live like that?”
    Averting his gaze, he stood and reached for his shirt, but not before she caught a glimpse of loneliness reflected in his eyes. Grunting with his efforts, he pulled his shirt over his head. Without thought, she tugged the linen down and began to slip the buttons into place. She felt the touch of his gaze roaming over her face like a gentle caress. She didn’t move when he slowly lifted his hand. Tenderly, he cradled her cheek with a roughened palm that killed. She raised her eyes to his.
    â€œI remember you holding my hand, caressing my brow—”
    â€œI’d caress a snake to keep it from dying in my bed.”
    His unexpected smile sent unwanted shafts of pleasure swirling through her. It changed him, made him look not so harsh, made it easy to forget that he valued life so little.
    â€œYou know the legend, lady, but you don’t know the man. And damn if I’m not tempted to introduce you to the man.”
    His nostrils flared, his lips parted as he lowered his mouth. She knew she should step away, but her feet were rooted to the spot like an ancient oak tree. He was wild and dangerous, everything she feared, all that she longed for. She welcomed the strength in his hand as he tilted her face, the yearning in his silver eyes,