Free Amelia by Diana Palmer

told them.
    He moved to the front door with long, angry strides. Amelia's dark eyes followed him, lingering on the powerful lines of his tall body in the close-fitting jeans. He was elegant, she thought wonderingly, and he made her feel so safe when anything threatened. If he only didn't remind her so forcefully of her father at his very worst…
    The night swallowed him up. The women went to the curtained windows and stared down toward the bunkhouse. It was brightly lit, and loud noises echoed from it. A minute later, King moved onto the porch, throwing a drunken man roughly to one side when he was accosted. He went into the bunkhouse, and the women heard his voice, unfamiliar in its loudness, because Amelia had never before known him to raise it.
    The results were immediate. The noise stopped. Then there was a challenge, and a minute later there were several thuds and a crash. Amelia looked at Enid worriedly.
    "I have to tell you, my dear, that this is, sadly, a familiar occurrence," the older woman said softly. "Men will be men. Of course, King can handle them. They respect him, you see."
    Amelia shivered. "Because he's good with his fists," she said dully.
    "In these parts, a man must be. And not only with fists but with guns when the occasion calls for it. There is a lawless element here on the border and all too few peace officers. In order to hold a property, one must still be prepared to defend it when the occasion warrants."
    "So violent," Amelia murmured, shaken.
    "Life often is, even in the most civilized city."
    "I suppose so." Amelia strained her eyes, because there was no sign of King. "Is he all right, do you suppose?" she asked nervously.
    "My son is quite capable of handling his men. Don't worry so." Enid's dark eyes narrowed. "You are concerned for him."
    "Of course," she faltered. "I mean, one is bound to be concerned for anyone whom violence threatens."
    "I see."
    Amelia hoped not. She didn't want her feelings to be quite that evident, as confusing as they were.
    She pushed back her wealth of long, blond hair and watched with quiet desperation until finally, King came out of the bunkhouse and stood speaking to the man he'd motioned outside with him. The cowboy nodded, made some conciliatory gesture with his hands, and King turned and walked back to the house.
    "I'll pour him a brandy," Enid murmured. "I think he may need it. "
    She left Amelia standing there and went toward the parlor with her kerosene lamp, leaving Amelia the one she'd lit beside the door.
    King came in, brooding and unsmiling. There was a cut on his lower jaw.
    "You're hurt!" Amelia exclaimed softly.
    He turned toward her. The compassion in those dark eyes made him feel warm inside, touched him in ways he'd never been touched.
    "I'm all right," he said slowly.
    But she came closer to peer up at him through the softly lit darkness with concern. Involuntarily, her fingers lifted to touch his lean jaw. "Does it hurt very much?" she asked.
    His breath felt trapped in his chest. "No." His voice was curt, because her unexpected tenderness unsettled him. She was lovely, he thought, with her hair loosened like that and her body gently outlined by layers of frilly lace. Faint perfume drifted up from her warmth into his nostrils and made his head spin.
    He caught her slender hand in his fingers and held it gently while his narrow silver eyes studied her uplifted face. His jaw clenched, and suddenly he turned his head and, pulling her hand up, pressed his mouth to the bruise he'd made on her soft white wrist the night of the fiesta.
    The feel of his mouth disconcerted her. Her lips parted breathlessly as she met his eyes, and the touch of his mouth on her skin made her knees go weak.
    Her heart was throbbing. He could see it at the side of her throat, see the lace jumping as she breathed. Incredible, that a woman so lovely could find him disturbing. It was no act, either. She was all but trembling from just this light touch. His eyes fell to her