Free The Barefoot Bride by Rebecca Paisley

hurt you none when I pushed you down, did I?"
    His eyes flashed blue fire. "Dammit, Keely, I'm a man! A fall to the ground ain't—isn't going to injure me!" He stepped so close to her she was forced to bend her head way back to see his face looming above her. "I realize you are the way you are because you've had little contact with other people, but there's one thing about the sexes you need to understand. Men are stronger than women. You're capable in many respects, but I am a man, and you are a woman. There's a big difference. One you'd do well to remember!"
    "I ain't seed you do nothin' I cain't do 'cept write! And you said yoresef I can larn how to write too. As fur as I can see, thur ain't no difference in a man and a woman but what's betwixt thur legs!"
    She flounced away then. Saxon picked up his rifle and stormed after her. His eyes centered on her back, he didn't notice how wildly the laurel thicket was moving. It wasn't until a bear cub meandered out of the brush that he realized the danger.
    Though the cub was behind her. Chickadee felt fear replace the marrow in her bones. She whirled to face the little animal, her mind swarming with prayers the bear wouldn't whine. She motioned for Saxon to circle around the cub. "Don't even look at it," she whispered. "Git around it quick but stay fur away from it."
    But the path was narrow, hedged with the thick ivy. Though he did his best to give the cub a wide berth, it wasn't wide enough to suit the small beast. The cub opened its mouth and called for its mother.
    "Lord o' mercy!" Chickadee ran to Saxon and grabbed his hand. But they ran only a short distance before Saxon stepped into a tangle of vines. He tried to yank his hand out of Chickadee's, but her hold on his wrist was unbreakable. Their fall sent Chickadee's rifle sliding into the thicket beside them. She tried to reach for it, but Saxon lay atop her, preventing her from moving.
    "Git offen me!"
    The worst sound he ever heard froze him in mid-action. The mother bear came thrashing out of the brush, black eyes shining with fury, huge mouth open wide. Khan bared his teeth and lunged at it, but with one vicious swipe, the bear threw the wolf into the laurel.
    Every muscle in his body taut, Saxon knelt, put the stock of his rifle to his shoulder, took aim, and fired. The bear screamed but continued to run toward them. Again he cocked his weapon, sure he'd only wounded the bear, but before he had time to pull the trigger, the monster swayed and then crashed to the ground, its enormous head mere inches from Chickadee's feet.
    He stared at it briefly before he remembered Khan. "Khan!" Much to his relief, the wolf came slinking out of the thicket, apparently unharmed.
    Chickadee hugged her pet when he came and licked her face. "Whar'd you larn to shoot like that, Saxon? You got that bahr directly in the heart, and that ain't easy. 'Specially when the bahr's a-runnin'."
    "While you may find this hard to believe, you aren't the only person in the world who can handle a gun," he said smugly.
    "Don't recollect a-sayin' I was. Jist didn't know a outlander could shoot like that."
    He stood and pulled her to her feet. "Are you hurt?"
    She started to tell him in no uncertain that a little fall to the ground wasn't something that would hurt her when she remembered she'd asked him the same question a short while ago when he'd fallen. Suddenly she understood what he'd been trying to tell her.
    It was pride that made men different from women. Her own was hurting, and now she realized what Saxon had been going through these past weeks with her.
    "Reckon I'm a mite bruised," she lied, rubbing her bottom. Instinct told her that was the right thing to say.
    Saxon nearly burst with self-satisfaction. But when he saw the merriment dancing in Chickadee's eyes, his anger returned with a vengeance. "Why don't you reach out and pat me on the head, Keely? That action would certainly complement your patronizing thoughts!"
    His abrupt fury