Stolen Little Thing (Little Thing Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

was.”
    She shuddered and then propped up on an elbow to look at Luke. “You don’t chase your help around the house, do you?”
    Luke shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
    Nolan chuckled. “The ladies who work for him are older than dirt. Not only that, but it’s usually women who chase Luke, not the other way around. I’ll bet there were plenty of disappointed ladies at the saloon last night when Luke didn’t come over, I’ll tell you that much.”
    Esme stared at Nolan and then turned to look at Luke. He gave her a sheepish grin and then shrugged. “I’ve socialized with those ladies a time or two.”
    Indignation burned within her. Even her father had the decency to pretend he was faithful to his wife. Luke, the boy who stood up for her, helped her, and acted as though he’d admired her, had turned into the a womanizing libertine like the rest of the men she knew. It was unthinkable.
    “Recently?” she asked, her voice quavering.
    “I haven’t spent time with any of the girls in the saloon since I heard you might come back, Esme, and that’s the God’s honest truth.” He poured a bit of whiskey in her glass and tipped his glass against hers. “I went right back to waiting for you, Sweetheart.” The moonlight burnished his blond hair, and Esme thought he might just be the handsomest man she’d ever seen. But he was a smooth talker too – calling her Sweetheart! The ladies whom Nolan claimed chased him, most likely didn’t have to run too hard. Her blood burned within her veins. In spite of her fury, she managed a brittle smile. “Maybe, Luke, I should point something out to you.” Taking the glass, she poured it onto the ground beside the blanket. “I am not a saloon girl.”
    Esme jerked to her feet and intended to storm away, but required a moment to steady herself, to wait for the sky to stop tilting.
    “Good night, gentlemen,” she hissed before wobbling a crooked line to the tent.

Chapter Three
    Lifting the flap of the tent, Luke motioned for the boys to go in, pointing to the two bedrolls that lay on the far side. David, the younger of the two, nodded and crawled in, stretching out on the bedding. The older boy, Joseph, yawned and then dropped down, sprawling out beside him. Silently, Luke went to the bedroll beside Esme. She probably would be furious when she woke to find him sleeping so close to her. Since leaving town, she’d been skittish, flustered, or flat out angry with him. Her ire amused him. He liked to see her pale skin color when he provoked her.
    The idea that Randolph Duval had no inkling where his daughter slept tonight amused him in a different way. Luke only had the pleasure of meeting the man one time, but it left an unpleasant and lasting impression. Years before, Mr. Duval had summoned him to a suite at the Morgan Hotel in Blanco, promising him news of Esme. Instead, the older man delivered a list of all the unfortunate things that would happen to him if he attempted to court his daughter.
    Luke stretched out his long frame on the bedroll beside her, propped up on his elbow and watched her huddled form beneath the rough blanket. His gaze roved over her soft feminine curves. The urge to touch her, to draw her into his arms was overpowering. Moonlight lent its glow to the inside of the tent, and he could see well enough to make out long eyelashes resting on her creamy skin. Her hair, a heavy copper abundance, gilded in moonlight, spread across her pillow, inviting his fingers to trail through its sensuous disarray.
    Her hand lay, fingers lax, just a few inches from his. Giving in to his need to touch her, he traced a line up the palm and across the tender skin of her delicate wrist. She drew a soft breath and murmured in her sleep. He pulled his hand back, as if scalded. A wave of desire overwhelmed him. It was too much, her scent, floral and sweet, even after a day of travel, her small sleepy murmurings, all the loveliness that was Esme was going to condemn him to a very