Educating Abbie: Titled Texans -- Book Two by Sterling Cynthia

Author:Sterling, Cynthia [Sterling, Cynthia]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2014-11-20T05:00:00+00:00

* * * *

All afternoon, Abbie could feel her fingers tingling where Reg had swept his tongue across them. Her whole body had trembled at the contact, like a lightning-struck tree; now only the humming in the nerves of her fingers remained.

She borrowed a saddle and selected a horse from her string and rode hard all afternoon, determined to put the incident aside. She and Reg had both been overwrought, their nerves still raw in the aftermath of his fight with Tuff.

She still could hardly believe what she’d seen with her own eyes. She’d heard shouting and had run around the corner of the wagon. By the time she’d elbowed her way through the gathered cowboys, Reg was straddling Tuff, pounding him with his fists. His face was set in an expression of rage, a hardness she’d sensed in him but never seen. Then she’d realized he was naked except for a pair of close-fitting woolen drawers. The muscular lines of his body gleamed with a thin film of sweat. Even battered and bruised, he was strong and powerful enough to take her breath away. This was the untamed man she’d glimpsed at the branding fire, the side of Reg usually hidden by his polished manners and tailored suits.

She stripped off her gloves and stared at the fingers he’d kissed. If she wasn’t careful, she’d make a fool of herself over Reg. She’d destroy her chance for happiness with Alan for a man who couldn’t possibly care for a cowgirl like her.

Reg belonged to another world – a world of Lords and Ladies and drawing room teas. She had no interest in that kind of life.

Men! She was growing heartily sick of all of them. Thank God for Maura. At least Abbie could talk to her without feeling all muddled inside.

She found the maid peeling a small mountain of potatoes. Maura had combed her hair forward to cover most of the line of stitching, though the ends of silk thread were visible in a couple of places. “How are you feeling?” Abbie asked, taking a seat on a crate nearby.

“Better. Me head is hurting some, but that may be more from the whiskey than the sewing.” She cut a neat curl of peeling from a potato. “It seems while I rested me eyes I’ve been missing all the excitement.”

Before Abbie could answer, Alan came around from behind the wagon, carrying a kettle of water. “Where do you want this?” he asked.

“Here beside me, I think.” Maura smiled and indicated a spot at her feet. “It was right kind of you to fetch it fer me, Mr. Mitchell.”

“Call me Alan.” He grinned and set the kettle beside her. “Evenin’ Abbie.” He nodded toward her, then hunkered down between the two women. “I was just telling Maura about the dance we’re hosting to celebrate the end of round-up,” he said. “You’ll both come, won’t you?”

Abbie smiled. Could it be Alan actually looked forward to seeing her at the dance? “I’ll look forward to it,” she said.

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