your
lawfully wedded husband."
"Really? And what of the stagecoach driver?"
"Old Sam?"
"Mr. Haggerty."
"I
assume Mr. Haggerty has driven the stagecoach along on schedule back to
Riley's."
"You—ass!" she hissed.
His
eyes narrowed. "Well, ma'am, it's just not that often that I hear a
complete stranger introducing herself to others as Lady Douglas while she announces she's on her way to take over my
property."
"You
might have introduced yourself and asked a few questions."
"The
fact that my father apparently met you and died soon thereafter certainly
influenced my choice of behavior. Let me warn you again. There are all manner
of wild creatures outside. Bears, wolves—hostile Indians."
"You
can't imagine that you can just leave me here and expect that I'll stay
put—"
"Oh, but I do imagine."
"I want to go—"
"To
Mayfair? You were on your way to the estate, right?"
"At
the moment I simply want to return to civilization!"
"There
is no real 'civilization' here, Lady Douglas."
"Civilization
could simply be where you are not!" Skylar flared.
He
offered her one of his mocking smiles. "You were on your way to Lord
Douglas's property. You are on Douglas property; this hunting lodge is mine.
Since I will not be here for a while, you may consider yourself in civilization—and
at the end of your journey. Enjoy civilization— as I've said, I'll be
back."
She
stood where she was, staring at him with her jaw locked until he drew more
clothing from the trunk at the foot of the bed. She burned with a raw fury
unlike anything
she had
known before. He'd made a fool out of her. He didn't know her, didn't know anything
about her or what had happened, and he'd labeled her an adventuress—and worse. A murderess. He'd
pretended a savage attack on her. He'd taken it as far as he possibly
might have gone. She hated him. Loathed him. Wanted to shoot an arrow between his eyes and take up scalping herself.
Not glancing her way, heedless that she remained in the robe, he shed
his own robe and donned buckskin trousers. She felt her cheeks go afire and she
quickly turned away, her shoulders squared. She tried very hard to control her seething temper.
"How long am I to wait here?"
"Until I find out from an attorney if this marriage
license is legal."
"Oh, it is legal," she grated, keeping her back
turned to him. "But—"
"We'll see what is and isn't legal. There's food here. You 've the
coffee—and the whiskey. I'll call Wolf to watch over you—"
"Wolf? Another of your cohorts in the stagecoach
holdup?" she demanded, swinging around to look at him again. He was in
dark buckskin trousers, high black boots, and a fringed buckskin shirt. His
hair was queued back. He was extremely tall and well built, striking in his
appearance, and still entirely forbidding. He might have appeared white,
except... that he didn't. There was something far too savage remaining in the
glint of his stare upon her.
"Wolf is my dog. And yes, he is part wolf, thus the name. He'll
protect you—or chew you to ribbons if you choose to leave the lodge. Perhaps you
should get some sleep. I'll be back tomorrow before evening." He turned, about to leave her. "Do make yourself at home. As I've said, it is Douglas property that
you're on now."
"Wait—" she began, but he was gone. The door was
closed behind him. She clutched the robe to her, biting into her lower
lip, and raced after him, ready to throw open the door.
But she heard him say, "Good boy, stay! Keep an eye on
her,now. She's dangerous!" Then excited barking. She stepped back. It
didn't seem prudent to open the door.
She leaned against the door, staring straight ahead, seeing
nothing. She started shaking again.
She wasn't going to be murdered and scalped by an Indian. At
least she didn't think so. He had a horrible temper and didn't seem to be
afraid of the consequences for any of his actions, but he wasn't a complete
savage.
She sank down against the door, shaking her head. She'd never
meant to