Free Gerrity'S Bride by Carolyn Davidson

was for sure. He decided he might as well finish the job, as long as he was at it.
    One hand lifted from the table and snaked out to cradle the curls that covered the back of her head. Fingers gripping securely, he pulled her forward, balancing himself with the other hand that pressed firmly against the table between them. Tiny flecks of amber glowed within her blue eyes as she tilted her head against the pressure of his wide palm. Not fear, he noted with satisfaction, but defiance, lit those gently slanted eyes. Her lips were firmly closed, her jaw clenched, and her nostrils flared with the force of her indrawn breath as he lowered his mouth to stake his claim.
    As kisses went, it wasn’t much, he thought ruefully. She had clamped down hard, her teeth held tightly together, like a bulldog with a bone. He molded her lips with his own, amused by the pursing and pushing at him, and then, with a growl, he bit at the lower lip that protruded, nipping it gently until she protested.
    “Um...bffft...” The words were captive within her mouth, and he quickly followed his attack with a gentle bathing of his tongue against the fullness of the flesh he had grasped between his teeth.
    Then, as quickly as he had leaned forward to take hold of her, he released her and stood erect, his damp mouth slanted into a grin that bespoke his victory.
    “I have the right, Emmaline,” he told her quietly. “I’m in charge here, over everything and everyone on this ranch. Most especially, my dear bride-to-be, I’m in charge of you. That gives me the right to be concerned for your welfare.”
    He waited for the explosion that was sure to follow, but she only watched him warily, her tongue exploring the cushion of her bottom lip.
    The worrying of her mouth had not hurt, she realized, only caught her attention, which was no doubt what he’d had in mind. He’d caught her attention, all right. Twice before, he’d kissed her, first with a harshness that branded her as his prey. The second time had been an awakening, a tender, careful perusal of her lips that had beguiled and tempted her into hazy desire.
    Now, in a demanding fashion, he had arrogantly taken her mouth, riding roughshod over her muffled protest. As hard as his hand had been, holding her in place, as determined as his mouth had been, tasting of her own, she could not be afraid of his dominance. Only of the strange emotions his touch had forced into being within her.
    “And what if I decline your generous offer, Mr. Gerrity? What if I choose not to shop at the dry goods?” She rose from her chair and waited, her eyes speaking her defiance.
    His grin became a smile of anticipation as he allowed his own gaze to slide downward over the bodice of her dress, admiring the slender curves beneath the black silk.
    “Why then, Miss Carruthers, I’ll have to find something appropriate of Maria’s for you to wear,” he said with mocking assurance.
    “Maria’s?” Her glance was skeptical, questioning his intelligence without words.
    Arrogantly he ignored her insinuation, viewing her dark garb measuringly. “You’ll need a different outfit, if you expect to go riding with me. We’ll just have to make Maria’s fit.”
    “I hardly think so,” she said, denying his suggestion. “We just aren’t built the same.”
    His grin caught her unawares, and she bit at her lip. His threat to stuff her into Maria’s clothing had been mere foolishness. No two women could be more different. Once more he’d managed to rile her with his teasing.
    And then he relented, his smile shamefaced now. “Peace? A truce of sorts?” He lifted his hand in a placating gesture, waiting for her nod of agreement. “I have just the thing for you to wear,” he said softly.
    Matt Gerrity in the role of a supplicant was not to be believed, and Emmaline privately gloated at the sight. She could afford to be generous, she decided, then smiled and shrugged eloquently.
    “You’re going to have a chance to make good