Creamy-white skin flowed from her shoulders to her
hips. It curved here and there, forming a sight not unlike
what he'd expect to see near a European fountain—a statue
made of the finest marble, chiseled into the essence of
beauty. The blanket pooled across the mattress just below
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Boot Hill Bride
by Lauri Robinson
the top of her pantaloons, the waistline highlighted by two
remarkable dimples in the lowest curve of her back. Majestic
Virgin is what the artist would title the creation.
His body jolted, then grew tight as his blood heated close
to boiling temperature. He shot off the bed, grabbed his
pants, and tugged them on in record speed. His heart beat so
hard it made his breath catch and throbbed strong enough to
make his veins bulge under his skin. Once his pants were
secure, he eased his speed, taking time to gain a reasonable
amount of control over his shaking limbs.
He pulled on his shirt and turned back to the bed. A
tattered and torn gown hung off the foot. He walked over and
picked it up. Examining the cotton, he asked, "Is this all you
have to wear?"
She scooted about, faced him. Big glistening eyes stared at
him. Her weary gaze met his, and she gave a slight
acknowledging nod.
The gray blanket was now tucked beneath her armpits.
She lifted one hand and plucked at her hair. The mass of
tousled auburn waves fell to cover her shoulders, yet left
enough creamy skin peeking out to prick at his already
heightened senses. But it was the cleavage above the edge of
the blanket that made him ogle for a moment before twisting
about.
He walked over to his storage chest, pulled out a pair of
britches and shirt. Moving back to the bed, he laid them near
her feet. "Here."
"Thank you," she murmured and pulled the clothes closer.
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Boot Hill Bride
by Lauri Robinson
"I'll, uh..." He glanced about the small space. "I'll go wait
outside."
"No!" She reached out, grabbing his arm. "Please don't go
out there without me." She struggled to keep the blanket held
tight with one hand while the fingernails on her other hand
dug into his arm. "Just turn around, it'll only take me a
second to get dressed."
There was no way on earth he could deny her pleading
look. He closed his eyes. Sighed. "All right."
She eased her hold, and he pivoted and stared unseeingly
straight ahead. The shuffle of material behind him echoed in
his ears, sounding much louder than possible. He squeezed
his eyes shut and tried to ignore the teasing visions playing
behind his eyelids.
"Done!"
He shook the quivers from his body and turned about to
gather his socks and boots. A low groan rumbled in his throat.
He should never have looked. His white shirt, though
buttoned all the way, left a large amount of glossy skin
exposed below her neck. She'd tucked the shirttails into the
brown britches he'd given her and tiny hands held the much
too large waistband in a bunched knot. She looked adorable.
His eyes strained to blink as they floated back to the shirt.
Damn! He could see right through the thin material. Leaping
back to the trunk, he pulled things out right and left, letting
them flutter to the floor. Finally, snatching what he looked
for, he held up a piece of rope and sliced it in two with the
knife from his boot.
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Boot Hill Bride
by Lauri Robinson
"Here, tie the pants up with this." He kept his eyes
averted, handed the rope to her, and then started to dig in
the trunk again. This time he pulled out a red-and-black plaid
wool shirt. "And put this one over the other one."
"Oh, thank you. It might be a bit chilly out yet."
The air huffed out of his lungs. He rubbed at his now
pounding temple. Chilly? Not even a blast of arctic air could
relieve the heat racing through his body.
"There all set," she said. "What do you think?"
He turned around and swallowed, forcing his gaze to
wander from her head to her toes.
"Oh." She sat down on the bed. "I guess I should roll up
the pant legs a