Always You Read Online Free PDF

concern. “Say, you’re lookin’ mighty cold there. I’ll just get a fire goin’.”
    And with that he shambled off and started gathering twigs and sticks, leaving Melora alone on her tree stump, her arms crossed around herself in a futile attempt to keep warm—and to preserve some minuscule shred of dignity.
    Her thoughts raced ahead as Cal and the others went about the business of making camp. Look around. Think. Maybe you can slip off and disappear into the brush, she told herself desperately, even as the numbing cold crept through her bones, and clouds above obscured the moon, shadowing the clearing in deeper darkness.
    She’d have to do some fancy hiding to keep them from finding her, but it was dark, and if she found the right place to conceal herself—
    “Don’t even think about it.”
    Cal’s tall form loomed over her. His booted feet were planted apart, his thumbs casually hooked in his low-slung gun belt.
    How had he appeared like that, out of nowhere?
    Melora stared up at him through shimmering, hate-filled eyes, taking in the rough stubble on his dark face, the brown hair that just touched his shoulders, his straight, arrogant nose, and his sensual mouth, which curled ever so mockingly as he studied her. But most of all at that moment she noted his eyes, those striking, miss-nothing eyes. His gaze was clear and shrewd as a puma’s.
    “Don’t think about what?” she asked through clenched teeth.
    “Running away. It won’t do you any good. I’ll just find you again.”
    “That so?”
    “That’s so.” Cal reached out and cupped her chin to tilt it upward, noting as he did so the trembling of her lips and the heat of those incredibly beautiful golden brown eyes beneath their thick fringe of lashes. “I’m not letting you go, Miss Deane,” he said quietly. “Not until I’m good and ready.”
    She snapped her chin back from his hand. “When will that be?”
    “I’ll let you know.”
    She vaulted off the rock, her fingers clawing for his eyes, his cheeks, his neck, but he grabbed her wrists before she could inflict any damage. She winced as his fingers pressed into her raw skin.
    He saw the pain flicker across her face and glanced down. Beneath his fingers, the tender skin of her wrists was scraped and bruised from the rope.
    Cal swore under his breath. He released her and forced himself to step back a pace. “Sorry I hurt you.”
    “If you were sorry, you’d let me go,” she cried bitterly.
    He shook his head, and for a moment she saw a fleeting sadness in his eyes, a glimpse of pain that softened the infuriating arrogance of his demeanor. Then it was gone, and the flat calm was back.
    “You’ve had a rough night, Miss Deane,” he said curtly. “Let’s not make it any rougher. Looks like you could use some blankets and a cup of coffee.” He took her elbow and steered her toward Zeke’s campfire. “You won’t be much use to me if you freeze to death.”
    His words stirred more questions and rekindled her fear. Use to him? What possible use could I be to him?
    But suddenly Melora was too overwhelmed by cold and fatigue to argue anymore. She let him lead her to the fire, sit her down near the glowing opal flames, push a mug of steaming black coffee into her icy hands. She felt the heavy woolen saddle blanket he draped around her shoulders and gave a tiny, quivering sigh as she snuggled into its thick, scratchy warmth.
    She was tired. Bone tired. And utterly confused by what was happening to her. A few hours ago she had been home, safe and secure on the Weeping Willow Ranch, looking forward to her wedding, and now...
    Now she gulped coffee at a strange campfire in the middle of nowhere, the prisoner of this quiet-voiced, cold-eyed outlaw. Now she had no idea what the future held for her or if she had a future at all.
    Melora kept her gaze fixed blearily toward the flames, though she could sense Cal watching her. Let him. She was too weary to glare back, too worn out and despondent