Free Sunset Embrace by Sandra Brown Page B

the woman's name spoken, Lydia's self-confidence suffered. But Lee would love her. Her, not his natural mother.
    She wished she had the nerve to fling that fact straight into the self-righteous face of Lee's father. He had called her a shameful name. Tears sprang into her eyes, but now, as when she had first stormed into the wagon, she refused to let them fall. She wouldn't cry. She wasn't what they all thought. She wasn't!
    She couldn't help what had happened to her, though God knows she had tried. How many times had she fought to the point of exhaustion, waking up with her body black and blue and sore as a result of her struggling? Sometimes she had won. Too many times she hadn't and . . .
    She closed her eyes and shuddered with painful, degrading memories. Those times she had wanted to die. But if she had killed herself there wouldn't have been anyone to take care of Mama. So she hadn't taken her own life and had been subjected to abuse until Mama had died and she was free to run away.
    How could something as sweet and innocent as Lee be born of an act so vile and violent? Stroking the baby's head, she wondered if Mr. Coleman had hurt Victoria while conceiving Lee the way Lydia had been hurt. Somehow she couldn't see him rutting and grunting the way Clancey had. She couldn't imagine him hurting Victoria, whom he had all but worshipped, if Anabeth's account of their relationship was valid.
    The flaps of the canvas were flung open and she heard the heavy tread of his boot as he stepped into the wagon. She whipped her head around, sending her hair flying in every direction until it resettled on her naked back and shoulders tike a fleecy mantle.
    Whatever prepared speech Ross was ready to recite stuck in his throat, and his mouth opened once uselessly before slamming shut. Lydia was sitting with her back to the wagons opening. The dress that had caused his temper to rise had been peeled off her torso and was bunched around her waist.
    With his eyes he followed the softly ridged column of her spine to the place where her body was nipped in neatly to form her waist. Her eyes were wide and inquiring, her lips moist and slightly parted as she gazed at him over an apricot-colored shoulder and a clump of russet curls.
    "What are you doing?" The words rasped through vocal cords which seemed to have retired from ever manufacturing another sound.
    "Lee's last feeding before bedtime," she said in that low, subdued voice that irritated the hell out of him. Didn't she have a smidgen of shame? Why wasn't she shouting at him for invading her privacy, for not knocking before coming in? But then that really would have made him mad. This was his wagon, by God!
    She must have seen the anger brewing in his eyes for she turned her head, ducked it, and looked down at the baby at her breast. Ross's body went hot all over and his vision blurred for a moment. He was blinking rapidly when she looked back up at him. "Did you want something?"
    He shifted awkwardly and wished he didn't have to stoop. "I..." He started to say that he wanted to apologize but couldn't go quite that far. "I want to talk to you." There. That had a ring of authority to it.
    She didn't say anything, which vexed him almost as much as when she spoke in that quiet voice that seemed to touch whomever it reached. Her eyes were steady on him as she kept her head turned to face him. Why in heaven's name didn't she cover herself up? Even though all he could see was her back, his imagination was running wild. Victoria would never have suckled her baby with anyone else in the room. He pushed the thought aside. If he thought about Victoria at all, he wouldn't be able to say what he had to say.
    "Thank you," he said shortly.
    She stared at him for a long time before responding quietly. "For what, Mr. Coleman? For not bringing men into your wagon and bedding them in front of you and Lee?"
    "Goddammit." He squeezed the word past compressed lips. "I'm trying to be nice to you."
    "Nicer You