Free A Worthy Pursuit by Karen Witemeyer Page A

bare, and the nights still got rather cold. And he’d want his saddle bags and whatever else Dobson had confiscated. The floor could use a good sweeping, and the rafters could use a few less cobwebs, but that would have to wait until—
    “I don’t like leaving you and the young’uns here alone with him.” Mr. Dobson’s low-pitched grumble pulled her away from her mental inventory. “Even hurt as he is, he could still cause trouble.”
    “The man just saved Stephen’s life,” she whispered back. “He deserves our help.”
    Dobson didn’t look convinced. “He did us a good turn, I’ll give you that, but I still don’t trust him. I’m pretty sure he’s on Dorchester’s payroll.”
    Charlotte was positive Stone was on Dorchester’s payroll, but now wasn’t the time to clarify that point. “I don’t trust him, either,” she said instead, “but neither do I wish him ill. He needs a doctor, and I aim to see he gets one.” A quiet groan behind her drew her gaze to the man in question as he lowered himself onto the small bed in the far corner. “He’s in no condition to try anything with Lily. Besides, all of his weapons are safely locked away.” Well, most of them anyway. She’d left his boot knife on her bureau when she’d gone to help Lily out of the cellar. “We’ll be fine.”
    The caretaker frowned but made no further objection. “If he gives you any trouble, I keep a hunting knife stashed under my pillow. Don’t hesitate to use it.”
    As if she could stomach adding more cuts to Stone Hammond’s already too-plentiful collection. But knowing Dobson was simply concerned for her welfare and that of the children, she nodded her agreement. Only then did the grizzled man march off to the barn to saddle a mount.
    Stepping into the bunkhouse, Charlotte’s pulse fluttered despite her assurances to Dobson that she’d be fine. Mercy, what was the matter with her? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been alone with the man before. In her bedroom, no less. He posed no immediate threat. Besides, she owed him a little trust after his heroic efforts on Stephen’s behalf.
    However, when he arched his back and peeled off what was left of his shirt to examine the damage the cat had wrought, Charlotte’s pulse moved from a flutter to a full-out gallop. Her step faltered and her mouth went dry at the impressive display of muscles beneath the wounds.
    Oh, dear. Perhaps she was in more danger than she’d originally thought.

8
    Stone gritted his teeth against the pain that speared him as he stripped out of his shirt. The stretch of muscles pulled at the injured flesh, causing new blood trails to trickle down his midsection and soak into the waistband of his trousers.
    “It’s a miracle you’re still in one piece. Well . . . relatively one piece.” Charlotte Atherton’s eyes raked his chest, concern and a touch of squeamishness evident in her gaze. Along with something a tad bit warmer. Appreciation? Dare he think . . . attraction?
    Stone straightened, the pain somehow not quite as bad as it had been a moment ago. A beautiful woman’s regard had a wonderful dulling effect on a man’s pain. The cuts and scrapes still stung like the dickens, but not so bad he couldn’t enjoy a little feminine admiration.
    Her footsteps clicked quietly against the wooden floorboards as she crossed to his bunk. For a tall woman, she moved with remarkable lightness and grace. Always so cool and calm, so perfectly tidy. Made a man want to muss her up a bit so she didn’t feel so far above him.
    Stone gripped the edge of the bunk, commanding his hands to behave themselves. There’d be no mussing today or any other day. He was here for the girl, not the woman. Besides, Charlotte Atherton saw him as the enemy. She wouldn’t be lowering her guard, let alone her hair, around him anytime soon. And that was fine with him.
    “Thank you for what you did.” The woman murmured the words in an offhand manner as she collected a