Free Frontier Courtship by Valerie Hansen

Not only was he betrothed to someone else, he was little more than a stranger to her!
    Shocked by the wild thoughts racing through her head, Faith decided they must be sinful. She’d always been taught that no good Christian woman desired a man’s arms around her, so why did this moment seem so right, so meant to be, as if her whole life had been nothing but preparation for her extraordinary encounter with the plainsman?
    Connell knew he should let go of her, yet kept granting himself one more breath of the natural fragrance of her hair, another second to plumb the wondrous depths of her dark, expressive eyes. If they had been alone, he knew he might very well have leaned down and kissed her. Then there’d be a fracas for sure, wouldn’t there?
    “Did I hurt you?” he finally asked as he released her.
    Faith cleared her throat. “Um, no. Not at all.”
    “Good. Where do you want me?”
    For some reason, her brain seemed as befuddled as it had been immediately following her accident at Fort Laramie. “Want you?”
    “To sit. For my haircut.”
    “Oh.” She took as deep a breath as her ribs would allow, then gestured toward one of the packing boxes they had used for chairs while they ate. “Over there. Take off your hat.”
    Connell seated himself, hat in hand.
    “You’d better take your shirt off, too,” she warned. “Papa always complained I got bits of hair down his neck.”
    “I’ll be fine the way I am.”
    Faith knew she should let him have his way, especially since his reply had sounded so gruff, yet a perverse part of her nature insisted otherwise. “You act as if I’ve never seen the top of a man’s union suit before,” she taunted. “I guess if you’re afraid to remove your shirt in my presence we’ll just have to make do as is. I won’t be responsible, though, if you itch something fierce afterwards.”
    Casting her a sidelong glance that was more an irate glare than an expression of admiration for her boldness, he reached down, crossed his arms and drew the soft buckskin hunting shirt off over his head. There’d been times when he’d stripped to breechcloth and leggings while stalking buffalo or antelope, but when among those he considered the polite society of his upbringing, he’d always remained fully clothed. Till now.
    “Okay. Remember this was your idea,” he said.
    Hearing muffled gasps from somewhere behind her, Faith clenched her teeth. When Connell tried to swivel his torso to see who was making the fuss, she stopped him with a firm hand on his bare shoulder, a reflexive action that did not go unnoticed by anyone, she was sure.
    She bent closer. “You could have mentioned that you weren’t wearing a union suit under your buckskins.”
    “You didn’t ask,” he grumbled. “I suppose the fat’s in the fire now.”
    “Let it be,” she said, rancor in her tone. “All my years I’ve tried to live a pure, untainted life, just like the Good Book teaches. Soon after Charity and I started this pilgrimage, I realized I’d have to make many concessions in order to survive. The more time that passes, the more certain I am that I’m right.”

     
    Taking up the scissors, she handed him the small mirror so he could watch as she began to cut. Instead, he angled it so he could observe her reflection. He thought new maturity had come to Faith in the past few days—maturity and awareness. He saw her glancing openly at the muscles of his bare back and wondered what female notions might be going through her head.
    There were certainly plenty of ideas passing through his. In lots of ways, she reminded him of his late Arapaho wife, while in others, her daring spirit far surpassed even his most unrestrained fancy. Knowing she was innocent of any wrong-doing, Faith was willing to stand up to everyone in the entire traveling party to affirm it. Women usually set great store by what their peers thought. Surely, Faith Beal was no exception. She, however, had the backbone to assert her