Abigail Scotts is having a horrible day. With her farm in shambles and her husband missing, she fights to rebuild her small world. Will a passing stranger, Dusty Johanssen, be her salvation? Or is he only one of the feared bandits terrorizing the High Country?
***This loveyoudivine title is also available in the print edition Cowboys, and on disc. Both formats include Gentlemen's Bride by Carol McKenzie, Rope by Anastasia Rabiyah, Ridley's Rival by Dawne Dominique, and A Widow's Justice by S.D. Grady.
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-60054-132-2 - $4.49
Print Anthology ISBN: 978-1-60054-150-6 - $19.99
Disc Anthology ISBN: 978-1-60054-146-9 - $15.00
Length: 22K
Genre: Erotic Romance
Rating: Shooting Star
Cover Artist: S.D. Grady
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EXCERPT:
His rude interruption confused Abigail. She began again, holding the watch to her chest, “That may be, Mr. Johanssen, but the fact remains I’m not able to build a barn or dig holes for new fencing. I need a man about to do for me and I need to order supplies for winter.”
“Did you know about the gold, Mrs. Scotts?”
“Gold?”
“Mr. Garrett, the man that buried your husband, found a grain of gold in Mr. Scotts' pouch. I’d bet there’s more and every man in Ennis knows about it. Now they know that a woman is living out here by herself. How long do you suppose the bandits will take before they pay a visit?”
Abigail could see Dusty’s eyes now. Instead of a pleasant, teasing glint they held a cold, serious sheen. He towered over her, his fists clenched at his side.
“I don’t have any gold,” she whispered. She stumbled backwards, until she kicked the water bucket. “Is that why you came out here today? To take the gold?”
He followed her, stalking her every movement and shook his head. “No, Mrs. Scotts. came to make sure you’re safe. Unfortunately, I don’t believe you are. I found you yesterday on the open range wrestling with a lamb and today you were taken with drink. I don’t think you’re capable of looking after yourself.”
She swallowed, his statements making her angry with their truth. “I am quite able to handle myself, Mr. Johanssen.” She bent over and picked up the bucket. “I need to wash the dishes.”
She rushed past him and back into the dark safety of her cabin.
Dusty hated himself for what he was about to do. This woman had gone through enough but she just didn’t see the danger. Now that the town knew who that grain of gold belonged to, it wouldn’t take long before a long line of fevered men stood before Abigail’s door, prepared to kick the woman off her land. He knew it wasn’t a stretch to think that somebody might resort to harming her or burning the cabin.
She stood at the dry sink before the opened window, her hands grasping the edge of the counter. Her knuckles showed white. He paused, wishing that he could take her nervousness as a sign that she understood her peril. He couldn’t risk it. He stalked towards her, loosening his holster and letting the heavy belt fall to the floor.
Reacting to the bang of the floor, her head whipped around. He continued to close the distance between them.
“What are you doing?” Fear feathered her voice.
Saying nothing yet, Dusty trapped her body between him and the dry sink. His crotch met her lower back. The smell of the meadowlands drifted off her hair. He reached around and placed his hands over hers on the edge of the counter, preventing her from slipping away from him. “I don’t think you understand just how dangerous your situation is, right now, Mrs. Scotts. Any man could walk in your door and take your home from you.”
She tugged at her hands and tried to wiggle away from his caging strength. A slight tremor shook her frame. “What are you doing?” she repeated.
He lowered his head, his lips brushing the outer shell of her ear covered so demurely by her hair. “I could take you, Mrs. Scotts. I could…rape you.”
She froze. Her breath came in short, tortured gasps. She began shaking her head back and forth. “No. I won’t let you do that.”
Still driven by a desire brought on by her demure appearance, Dusty’s body urged him to continue to play out the scene he meant as only a lesson in frontier safety. Denied a life and a good woman years before, he dreamed of taking that for himself now. It would be so easy. He dipped his head lower. “You wouldn’t have the means to stop me, Mrs. Scotts.”
Dusty kissed the curve of her outer throat, just above the lace-edged collar of her gown. Her skin, hot and dry from the heated morning, moved beneath his tongue. Her pulse sped. He braced himself expecting her to buck and fight.
Abigail fought the desire licking at her nerves. She wanted to scratch at him and kick and scream. Then he kissed her.
She could fight against muscle and arrogance. She wanted to! However, as soon as his lips created a wet, sucking world on her neck, Abigail felt her body ease. Fear vanished. Anger lessened. Desire consumed. A low moan escaped her lips and she leaned into the kiss.
He drew back and released her. Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her to face him. She noticed his chest rose and fell, matching her own shocked breathing. She saw surprise and hurt reflected in his eyes.
“I could carry you over to the bed, Mrs. Scotts, and take you right now.”
Abigail thought he sounded a little hesitant. She bit at her lower lip.
“I could,” he repeated.
The top button of his denim shirt was undone. A few light hairs poked out, making her wonder if his chest would be thick and hirsute or were those the only specimens to be found.
He crowded her back against the sink again. Abigail felt the length of his erection against her stomach, thick and long. She should do so many things! What they might be, her mind lay dormant in a fog of lust and arousal. Her stomach tightened as she thought about skin and sweat and pounding flesh.
“Any man could do this to you, Mrs. Scotts.”
Her anger came back. “No, Dusty. Not any man.” Her hand rose to trace his cheek, darkened by a two-day’s beard. “Just you."
