Lonesome Rider and Wilde Imaginings Read Online Free PDF Page B

saloon.”
    â€œFine,” Rose said, her chubby little hands folded before her, her lips set in a sweet smile. “Get on to your bath now, before the water cools.”
    She left to walk toward the kitchen, which was a separate building reached via an enclosed walkway, because she wasn’t about to have her nicely furnished house burned down by a cooking fire. Blade hurried up the stairs.
    He paused outside Jessica Dylan’s room. He couldn’t hear anything. Shorty hadn’t come in with the stagecoach yet, and Blade found himself just standing there, wondering what she was wearing after her bath.
    He swore at himself and moved on.
    The tub in his room was wonderfully inviting, steam rising in great swaths from it. He stripped down quickly, careless of where he cast his boots and pants, shirt and jacket. He started to sink into the water, wincing when the burning heat first touched his flesh, then slowly sinking all the way in. There was a holder with soap and a cloth, and he picked up both, scrubbing his face first, then his arms, then the rest of his body. He ducked his head beneath the water and scrubbed his black hair. Finally, he sat back, rinsed the cloth, and set it over his face. It felt so damned good just to lie there. He could doze easily again.
    Damn! He didn’t want to doze again, didn’t want to dream, didn’t want to remember.
    He froze suddenly, curling his fingers around the tub, aware of motion and movement in the room. There was a clicking sound.
    Her.
    She had come through the connecting door. He could follow her movements exactly. He had been living too long in a state of constant awareness—chasing and on the run—not to have his senses keenly attuned to sound and movement.
    And smell. Mmm, he could smell her. The clean, fresh scent of her porcelain flesh.…
    She was standing above him. Hesitating.
    He ripped the cloth from his face, staring at her heatedly in return.
    â€œYes?” he demanded icily.
    She stared and jumped back, but then stood her ground.
    Her hair was free, all about her shoulders, just washed and fire dried and radiantly beautiful. He ached to reach out and touch it. Gold and copper. It glittered, it beckoned, it beguiled. No more so than her perfect face, her emerald eyes. Her … person.
    He no longer had to wonder what she was wearing. Mrs. Peabody had provided her with a dressing gown. It was far too short, and he could plainly see her long, slim bare feet and her slender ankles, hinting of very shapely, long legs. The gown was a pink frilly thing, with a V bodice that didn’t quite close well at her throat and breast, being far too large for her. Her flesh was beautiful. Her throat, long and extremely elegant. The hint of the rise of her breasts …
    His fingers clenched very tightly around the rim of the wooden tub and he barked at her, “What?”
    â€œDon’t scream at me,” she said.
    â€œDon’t sneak in on me. You do that at the wrong time, and you’ll find yourself getting shot.”
    â€œI wasn’t sneaking—”
    â€œYou don’t even come in on a man quietly in the West, Mrs. Dylan. You will get shot.”
    â€œOnly an outlaw would be so wary—”
    â€œAnd I never did tell you that I wasn’t an outlaw, did I now, Mrs. Dylan? I just might be one. The worst kind of an outlaw.”
    Her chin lifted. “There’s only one thing I do know about you, Mr. McKenna,” she said flatly.
    He arched a brow.
    â€œYou are one hell of a rude bastard!”
    He grinned, sliding deeper into the water, eyeing her warily. “What?” he said again.
    â€œDammit, I need you to work for me,” she said, aggravated.
    â€œI’m busy. You need to go home.”
    â€œWho the hell do you think you are to decide who can and who can’t make it in your precious West, Mr. McKenna?” she demanded coolly. “I’m not going back East. I’ve