Rexanne Becnel Read Online Free PDF

Hard men. Men her father took great pains to shield her from. When they stared too boldly, however, she felt nothing but distaste—and a faint feeling of uncleanliness.
    But this man …
    Though she had even more reason to be offended by his stare—after all, he’d clasped her against him in the most intimate manner—she felt more embarrassment than anything else. Her dress was filthy, her hair bedraggled. And her face and nails …
    In the midst of her horrified cataloguing of her awful appearance, his grin widened. “May I escort you home?”
    “That … that won’t be necessary,” Abby answered, struggling to regain her composure. “I’ve the oxen to tend.”
    He nodded slightly, but his gaze never wavered. “You and your father heading to the Oregon Territory?”
    “Yes.”
    “Just the two of you?”
    There was something in his eyes when he spoke, something that suddenly made her wary. “I’ve got to be going.” She turned toward the oxen, and retrieving the willow whip, she carefully stepped nearer to them, just touching Eenie’s shoulder.
    “What’s your name?” the man called from behind her. When she didn’t respond, he laughed low in his throat. “I’ve been on the trail too long, it appears. I’ve forgotten my manners. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
    At that she chanced a sidelong glance at him. He swept his black slouch hat from his head and gave a good approximation of a bow from the saddle. “May I present myself. I’m Tanner McKnight. At your service, Miss … Miss …”
    Abby straightened up when he removed his hat, and watched in fascination the dark fall of his hair across his brow. His hair was black, as were his eyes. No, his eyes were blue, only a very dark, midnight blue. His brows were a dark slash across a strong, tanned face, lean and square-jawed. His nose was straight, and his lips … the way his lips curved as he stared at her made her heart speed up. Only when he swept his hair back and replaced his hat on his head was she able to drag her eyes away.
    “I’m Miss … Miss Morgan,” she finally answered, remembering only at the last second not to give him her real name.
    “Miss Morgan.” He said the name slowly, huskily, as if testing it out. And all the while he continued to study her with his compelling midnight eyes.
    Where their disturbing conversation might have led, she did not get to find out, for Victor Lewis arrived at that moment, driving his two mules and four oxen. He rode his saddle mount right up to Abby, placing himself between her and her disquieting rescuer. “Is everything all right here?” he muttered for her ears only.
    “Oh, yes. Yes,” she replied a little too brightly. A part of her was inordinately relieved by Victor’s appearance. But another side of her was still curious about the man. About Tanner McKnight. “Be careful of all that mud,” she added unnecessarily.
    Victor nodded and edged past her toward the sluggish waters of the Platte. Abby touched Eenie again with her whip, starting him and the others in the direction of the wagon train’s community grazing area. Only when she was what seemed a safe distance away did she look back for the stranger, but he was gone. She saw him in the distance cantering away. He was hard to miss, sitting so erect on his tall gray horse. He rode in the direction of the fort, toward the ramshackle assemblage of sod buildings that was the last outpost of civilization for at least the next month.
    For a moment she saw once more that dark, sardonic face, and she couldn’t help feeling her initial reaction was right. His was the beautiful, knowing visage of one of the fallen angels, and she was both frightened and fascinated by him. She knew she should avoid him at all costs even as she wondered if she would ever see him again.
    She drove Eenie forward, and the other three oxen followed. But Abby’s mind was not concerned with the great, lumbering beasts. Instead she debated over and over