knew I eventually would. I want to know why you saved my life. You didn't have to go through with the marriage, you know." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Maybe I'm wrong. For whatever reason, perhaps you did want a husband. It's difficult to believe you're simply a do-gooder looking for souls to save. If that was your motive, I'm beyond redemption."
Angela ground her teeth in frustration. "I'm sure your soul isn't worth saving, Mr. Gentry. Good night. Or should I say good-bye?" Then she removed her head from the opening and pulled the canvas together with a snap..
Frustrated beyond endurance, Rafe dropped his shirt, vaulted up over the tailgate and lunged through the canvas opening.
"We're not through talking, Mrs. Gentry ."
Angela grabbed for her shawl and pulled it over her flimsy nightgown. "Get out!"
"In my own good time. Sit down, sister, and tell me what possessed you to save my life. Not that I'm ungrateful," he added, "just confused."
Angela stared at Rafe's bare chest as is she'd never seen a man in that state of undress before, as indeed she hadn't. She wanted to shut her eyes but couldn't. She'd never thought of a man's body as arousing, until she saw Rafe Gentry's bare torso. Tongues of flickering light lapped at his rippling muscles and sculptured chest. She tired to focus on his face but something perverse compelled her to slide her gaze down his torso, to the lean, tempered plane of his stomach.
She flushed and returned her gaze to his face. The light was bright enough to reveal wide, deep-set eyes and boldly slanted eyebrows. His hair was thick and long and black as ink against his neck and throat. His nose was straight, his jaw square and his chin aggressively blunted.
His was a handsome face, but not without character. Painful memories shadowed his silver eyes and Angela suspected his lopsided smile hid a checkered past. Instinct told her he wasn't a killer but common sense warned her he was no stranger to violence.
She watched the play of lamplight in his eyes and experienced a prickling rush of sensation travel up her spine. As unnerving as it was, Angela couldn't look away. It was the sound of his voice that finally jerked her from her bemusement.
"Do you realize we're in one helluva fix? Excuse me, Sister, if I offend your delicate ears, but I can think of no other word to describe our situation. Why did you let the preacher marry us?"
"Why did you?"
"I had a skin to save, you didn't. Hell, I would have agreed to anything to save my life. You, on the other hand, had nothing to gain."
Her chin notched upward. "I couldn't let an innocent man die."
He sent her a startled look. "What made you think I was innocent?"
She stared at his bare chest and looked away. "Would you please put on a shirt?"
Rafe gave her a lopsided grin. "Do I bother you?"
"Yes. No. I don't know. It isn't right."
"Haven't you ever seen a man's bare chest before."
"Of course not," she said stiffly.
"We're married, or have you forgotten?"
Surely he didn't want...didn't expect to... "In name only, and that's how it's going to remain until we part company."
He was too close, filling the small space with his powerful presence and daunting body. She retreated until the back of her legs hit the cot behind her. He took an aggressive step forward, until he was so close she felt his hot breath fan her cheek.
"What do you want? You can't... I won't let you... Why are you doing this?"
"Are you really a prissy, purse-lipped holy woman, Angel? Or is that just a facade you assume whenever it suits you? What are you really like beneath that angelic halo you wear so well?"
A jolt of heat surged through her veins. Angela hated to think that the sight of Rafe's naked chest bothered her even though her stomach was flooding with a strange and potent warmth.
"You're insulting," Angela said, drawing
Angela ground her teeth in frustration. "I'm sure your soul isn't worth saving, Mr. Gentry. Good night. Or should I say good-bye?" Then she removed her head from the opening and pulled the canvas together with a snap..
Frustrated beyond endurance, Rafe dropped his shirt, vaulted up over the tailgate and lunged through the canvas opening.
"We're not through talking, Mrs. Gentry ."
Angela grabbed for her shawl and pulled it over her flimsy nightgown. "Get out!"
"In my own good time. Sit down, sister, and tell me what possessed you to save my life. Not that I'm ungrateful," he added, "just confused."
Angela stared at Rafe's bare chest as is she'd never seen a man in that state of undress before, as indeed she hadn't. She wanted to shut her eyes but couldn't. She'd never thought of a man's body as arousing, until she saw Rafe Gentry's bare torso. Tongues of flickering light lapped at his rippling muscles and sculptured chest. She tired to focus on his face but something perverse compelled her to slide her gaze down his torso, to the lean, tempered plane of his stomach.
She flushed and returned her gaze to his face. The light was bright enough to reveal wide, deep-set eyes and boldly slanted eyebrows. His hair was thick and long and black as ink against his neck and throat. His nose was straight, his jaw square and his chin aggressively blunted.
His was a handsome face, but not without character. Painful memories shadowed his silver eyes and Angela suspected his lopsided smile hid a checkered past. Instinct told her he wasn't a killer but common sense warned her he was no stranger to violence.
She watched the play of lamplight in his eyes and experienced a prickling rush of sensation travel up her spine. As unnerving as it was, Angela couldn't look away. It was the sound of his voice that finally jerked her from her bemusement.
"Do you realize we're in one helluva fix? Excuse me, Sister, if I offend your delicate ears, but I can think of no other word to describe our situation. Why did you let the preacher marry us?"
"Why did you?"
"I had a skin to save, you didn't. Hell, I would have agreed to anything to save my life. You, on the other hand, had nothing to gain."
Her chin notched upward. "I couldn't let an innocent man die."
He sent her a startled look. "What made you think I was innocent?"
She stared at his bare chest and looked away. "Would you please put on a shirt?"
Rafe gave her a lopsided grin. "Do I bother you?"
"Yes. No. I don't know. It isn't right."
"Haven't you ever seen a man's bare chest before."
"Of course not," she said stiffly.
"We're married, or have you forgotten?"
Surely he didn't want...didn't expect to... "In name only, and that's how it's going to remain until we part company."
He was too close, filling the small space with his powerful presence and daunting body. She retreated until the back of her legs hit the cot behind her. He took an aggressive step forward, until he was so close she felt his hot breath fan her cheek.
"What do you want? You can't... I won't let you... Why are you doing this?"
"Are you really a prissy, purse-lipped holy woman, Angel? Or is that just a facade you assume whenever it suits you? What are you really like beneath that angelic halo you wear so well?"
A jolt of heat surged through her veins. Angela hated to think that the sight of Rafe's naked chest bothered her even though her stomach was flooding with a strange and potent warmth.
"You're insulting," Angela said, drawing
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