The Duchess and Desperado by Laurie Grant

Author:Laurie Grant [Grant, Laurie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Historical Romance, Nineteenth Century, American West, Protector
ISBN: 9780373290215
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1998-01-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Late that afternoon they made camp in what Sarah would have described as a narrow gully; Morgan called it a “draw.” It had obviously been used as a stopping place before, for a pile of empty whiskey bottles and tin cans lay in a heap under the sparse shade of a pair of cottonwood saplings. On one side of the draw, the bluff overhung the dry, flat ground. They’d put their bedrolls there, Morgan said, for they’d be less visible to wandering Indians or white rascals that way. Sarah guessed he was particularly thinking about the assassin who might be trying to follow them.

Surely all Denver was abuzz with the news of her disappearance, and perhaps the local newspaper had even printed a story about it by now, so her would-be killer would surely be aware that his quarry had flown. Was he somewhere behind them, even now? Was he that determined to see her dead? The thought was on Morgan’s mind, too, she guessed, for he frequently stopped to look back over his shoulder. Thank God for Morgan’s keen vision—he’d be able to see the glint of the sun off a gun barrel or field glasses that would betray the fact of another rider following them. So far, he’d seen no sign of pursuit, but his action caused her to frequently glance over her shoulder, too, even though she couldn’t hope to see as well, even with her spectacles.

Sarah, you’ll run daft if you imagine yourself the hunted hare all the time, she admonished herself. Vowing to put the thought aside, she looked longingly at the shallow trickle of a stream running through the draw as the horses lowered their heads to drink.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes on her.

“Oh, just wishing the water were deeper,” she admitted with a rueful chuckle. She bent over, upstream of the drinking horses, and splashed some water on her face. “You’ve no idea how I’m longing for a bath, but it’s hardly deep enough to get my ankles wet.” She blushed at the admission, for a lady did not mention any part of her legs, let alone that she longed to wash her entire body! But a lady did not go fleeing into the wilderness with a man, or wear trousers while she did so, either.

He looked away, but not before she saw his green eyes darken with—what? Could it be desire?

“Oh, I reckon you’d see plenty of water if we were to get a sudden cloudburst. In fact, we’d have to run for high ground—this draw could be full to the rim in nothing flat,” he said, pointing in the direction from which the flood would come. “I wouldn’t even consider camping here if there was a cloud in the sky, but there’s isn’t, and I can’t smell any rain, either. But we can jaw about the weather later. Soon’s I get the horses unsaddled and secured, you got a shootin’ lesson to attend, Duchess.”

She groaned. “Can’t we cook dinner first? I’m famished,” she admitted.

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