with raucous silver miners and thieves who wouldn’t hesitate to steal a person’s silver or something even more valuable—a woman’s virtue.
With a sideways glance, he battled with what to do. Frustration toward Jesse for putting him in this mess seeped through his mind again like a deadly poison. His brother should be dealing with this. Not him. But that wasn’t going to happen. The sight of Jess unconscious on the floor of the barn slashed through Haydon, and he detested Jess all the more for making him so angry he had lost his composure, and flanked his horse. Haydon knew better than to touch a horse’s flank; spurring that tender spot between a horse’s ribs and hips was bad enough, and yet he had not only kicked it without meaning to, he had also hit it hard enough that it caused Rebel to rear and knock Jesse unconscious. Haydon still felt badly about that.
With Jess injured, it was now up to Haydon to do what he had to do to keep this woman safe. No gentleman would do anything less. And if Haydon was anything, he prided himself on being a gentleman. Most of the time anyway.
His chest heaved at the idea of being in such close proximity to the flaxen-haired beauty on the long ride back to the ranch. It was the last place he wanted to be. But he would not leave her here, not even to save himself the trouble.
Rainee locked her knees to keep them from giving out. What kind of ruffians filled this desolate land anyway? Why, if Mr. Bowen had not come along when he had, she did not know what might have happened to her. Just thinking about it made her shudder.
As he stared forward, Rainee took the opportunity to study him. Her gaze landed on his arms.
Arms that had easily plucked away her attacker.
Mountainous arms that drew her attention and admiration.
Rainee knew she should look away, knowing if her mother were here, she would reprimand her for her blatant impropriety. But she found she could not help herself. Nor did she want to. The bulges beneath his pale blue shirtsleeves captivated her attention as did the width of his broad shoulders and chest.
Her eyes moved to his firm jaw, and she watched in fascination as the muscle in his jaw worked back and forth. Something about the strength of it set her heart all aflutter.
“Do you need anything before we go, Miss Devonwood?”
She whipped her gaze up to his eyes. Warmth rushed to her cheeks. From the icy tone of his voice, he must have seen her gawking at him.
Perhaps he was agitated because of her blunder in telling him to call her by her Christian name. That was far too forward of her, even if this man was to be her husband. Would she ever learn?
How she despised all those ridiculous rules of etiquette and propriety. Aristocratic rules her British father insisted they follow and her Southern mother had taken pride in enforcing. But, she refused to distress herself further about her social blunder because there was nothing she could do about it now anyway.
“It’s a good hour and a half before we get to Paradise Haven. Would you like to get something to eat before we head out?”
Rainee loved the deep sound of his voice. Even though his mannerisms at present were somewhat aloof, some of her doubts about coming here eased. After all, Mr. Bowen had rescued her from that vile man with the overpowering stench and yellow teeth. Not to mention his looks were far superior to those of any man she had ever encountered. Granted, she knew from experience looks could be deceiving, but still, his sapphire eyes and blond hair were quite pleasing to her eyes. In fact, the color reminded her of her father’s eyes. Immediately Rainee regretted the comparison. Her heart yearned for her father—to be held in his arms again and to feel the security his protection and love provided.
The back of her eyes stung, but she plucked up her courage, knowing crying would solve nothing.
She forced herself to focus on the gentleman in front of her. “Thank you, but no. I am fine, sir.” Even if she had need of anything, it would be far too humiliating to inform him she was penniless because some scoundrel at the last stagecoach stop had stolen her money. Good thing she had already purchased her ticket for the last trek of her journey. Otherwise she shuddered to think what might have become of her.
For the millionth time, Rainee wished she had secured her funds underneath her skirt. Her personal maid and dear friend Jenetta had advised her to do so, but once again Rainee’s stubbornness had overruled any such logic.
Many times her father had warned her that her stubbornness would get her into trouble one day. He feared he would not be able to secure a husband for her because of her flawed temperament. Inwardly Rainee sighed. So far, Father was right. Well, that was not entirely accurate. Many a man had pursued her. Not because of any burst of feeling toward her but because of her father’s money. Except one man. And she would rather go live with savage Indians than marry him.
Mr. Bowen cleared his throat. She looked up at him.
“That your trunk?”
“Yes.” Rainee glanced at the medium-size chest containing everything she owned. With a weighty sigh, she decided to not think about what and whom she had been forced to leave behind. It was all too vexing. And so was this man’s aloofness toward her. Gone was the warmness his letters contained. Perhaps his journey had tired him. That she understood. Tiredness had seeped into her bones until every part of her ached with fatigue.
She watched him lift the trunk as if it weighed no more than one of the plumes on her hat. He stepped off the platform and headed around the corner of the stagecoach stop. Rainee followed him, careful to keep her eyes anywhere but on his retreating form. One glimpse of his leg muscles had been enough to make her chastise herself for acting like a wanton woman instead of the lady she had been brought up to be.
Once her belongings were secured on the wagon, he headed to the front of the buckboard where she stood, and he extended his hand.
Rainee glanced at his large palm, admiring the strength of it, then looked up at him. Impatience covered his face. She quickly placed her satchel and parasol on the wagon seat, then settled her hand in his, allowing him to help her onto the wagon. She arranged the bustle of her dress and sat, then snatched her satchel and parasol off of the seat and placed them in her lap. “Thank you, sir.”
He responded with a curt nod.
Turning her head away from him, she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and whistle away the awkwardness. She knew their meeting would be uncomfortable, but she had not anticipated it being quite this bad. Then again, what did she expect? That the moment he laid eyes on her, he would declare his undying love and sweep her off her feet, and they would live happily ever after?
Hah. In a pig’s eye. She shuttered at the expression. It must be the length of the trip or the hot sun or the man readying the horses and the wagon—something—because every thought she had was taking her places she did not want to go.
Besides, those kinds of things only happened in the dime novels she and her best friend used to sneak into her room and read. Until the day her mother had discovered them. After a long lecture, she forced Rainee to toss them into the fire. It broke her heart watching the edges curl into black ashes. They were her only reprieve from the stuffy social world she lived in, a world overrun with rules of proper etiquette, rules she had a hard time obeying because they all seemed so meaningless and empty.
The wagon seat dipped, jolting Rainee’s mind from past shadows. She looped the handle of her satchel over her wrist and opened her parasol, careful to keep it out of Mr. Bowen’s way. Careful to keep herself out of his way as well.
His arm brushed against hers, and his broad shoulders took up a goodly portion of the now cramped seat.
Leather, trail dust, and a scent that reminded her of her father after he had shaved drifted up her nostrils. More reminders of home. A home that no longer existed.
Once again, she could not believe she was about to marry a complete stranger. One she had placed an advertisement for. That act alone was scandalous. Claws of dread pierced her insides as she realized once again what she had done. The need for air threatened to