Free Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WayWard Wind by Unknown Page B

square, waiting for the priest to open the heavy carved portals and motion them over.
    By the time the church doors opened, Sloan Harper had worked himself into a sweat, the front and underarms of his shirt stained dark. His hat was laying on the table and his dark hair ruffled from the constant raking of his fingers through it.
    In contrast, Peyton Dalton was unruffled, having finished her lemonade and the rest of his. She was fanning herself leisurely with an old newspaper she hadn’t been able to read since it was printed in Spanish.
    “Let’s go!” he said and stomped over to take her arm and lever her from the chair, striding purposefully toward the church so quickly she was stumbling in his wake.
    “What is your hurry?” she asked, grinning.
    “I want to get you back to the cabin so I can head north. I’ll leave after supper,” he said. “There’s no sense in waiting around.”
    “What about the cabin?” she asked. “And the animals? You can’t just leave them ....”
    “I’ll give them to the priest,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll know someone who needs a home.”
    Father Roberta Escobar did, indeed, know someone and once he had performed the ceremony and the two witnesses had put their names to the document, he had shaken Harper’s hand, thanking him for his generosity.
    “The family can take it over next week, Father,” Harper said. “We’ll be gone by Friday next, looking to take a ship out of Tampico. I’ll feed the chickens and the animals before we leave.”
    “God bless you. This is so generous. The Villareals will be so happy.”
    “Aye, well thank you for saying the words over us. We’ll be leaving now,” Harper said, embarrassed.
    “Vaya con Dios, my children,” Father Roberta bestowed his blessing as Harper swung her up onto the horse behind him.
    * * * *
    They rode for half an hour then Harper stopped for Peyton to rid herself of all the lemonade she’d consumed. He waited for her as she made her way into the bushes, cautioning her to be on the lookout for snakes or tarantulas.
    A small waterfall rippled into a stream nearby so he led his horse over to take a drink. Sitting down on a rock, he took off his hat, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and shook his head in disgust, cursing under his breath.
    “What’s wrong?” Peyton asked as she joined him.
    He sighed deeply then looked up at her, turning the hat around and around in his hands. “I forgot the goddamned ring, wench,” he said. “When the priest asked us about a ring, I could have kicked myself then and there.”
    “You couldn’t remember everything, Sloan,” she said.
    “Snake reminded me about the ring before we left,” he said. “I should have remembered it. I was going to look for one but it slipped my mind.”
    “You can buy me one in Scotland,” she said.
    “You’ll have one before we set sail, wench,” he stated firmly. “I’ll not have anyone wondering if you belong to me.”
    She put a hand on his rough cheek where his heavy beard was already starting to grow back even after shaving so closely that morning. She liked the feel of it against her palm. “Who cares what other people think? All they need do is take one look at me while I’m looking at you and they’ll know I belong to you, Sloan Harper.”
    He laid his hat on the ground then turned his face so his lips grazed her palm to kiss her there briefly, drawing the sweet scent of her flesh deep into his lungs. “All the same, I want you to wear my ring.”
    Peyton smiled. “I will be honored to do so.” She slipped her hand behind his neck and pulled his face toward hers, parting her lips to him, inviting his tongue to slide into her mouth.
    Sloan growled low in his throat and his arms went around her. He crushed to him as his cock leapt, pressing hard against the fabric of his jeans. He deepened their kiss and in one assertive move put one arm under her knees and lifted her into his arms--high against his chest as he