Free Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2) by Margaret Madigan Page A

winter out there, and there’s nothing in Wyoming. No place to run to. Or at least it’s a long way to civilization.”
    “So what are you saying?” she asked, scooping another bite of beans, and checking the door to be sure nobody lurked there listening.
    “I need to keep Ernie here alive long enough to come up with a plan. We need to collect some supplies, we’ll need to steal horses, and we’ll need enough of a head start that these guys can’t catch up.”
    “How long will that take versus how long Ernie will last?”
    “No idea. Let’s just assume we need to act fast.”
    She sat quietly, eating one measured bite after another. She focused on her plate so hard, she was obviously avoiding eye contact. I could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind.
    “What?” I finally asked.
    She looked up at me, innocence etched all over her face. “What do you mean?”
    “Oh come on, Lydia. You’ve got something on your mind. It’s obvious. Just tell me what it is.”
    “Nothing. I don’t have anything on my mind,” she said, shoving the beans around her plate. “Only, it occurred to me how convenient it would be if they were all…gone…”
    The words were harmless enough, but the look in her eyes made me think otherwise. “Gone how? Like Ernie’s about to be gone, or gone as in they decide they’ve got someplace better to be so they take off?”
    She cast her gaze down at her plate again, and lifted a shoulder in a vague shrug.
    I leaned close enough that her knees were between mine, and I tucked a finger under her chin and lifted it so our eyes were only inches apart. “Are you ready to kill a man, Lydia? Or two, or three? It sounds simple enough, but when it comes right down to it, it’s not so easy. Trust me, you don’t want that on your conscience.”
    Her lips set in a determined line. “They won’t hesitate to kill us.”
    “True. But we’re—you’re—not cold-blooded killers.”
    She made a disgusted sound. “Great. So we can congratulate ourselves on our sterling principles while Clyde puts bullets in our heads.”
    I chuckled. “You’re not at all what I expected.”
    “What?” she looked bewildered by the change of subject.
    “You come across on first impression as…”
    “…a sour, grouchy, tedious old maid?”
    “What? No. I was going to say timid, cautious, proper.”
    “I am all those things.”
    Her knees were still between mine and she sat close enough that her breath touched my face. I closed my knees around hers and she held her breath for just a moment, and her eyes grew wide.
    “Oh no you’re not,” I whispered, leaning in until my lips were just a breath away from hers.
    “I’m not?” she asked, swallowing hard.
    “No,” I said. “You’re smart,” I closed the distance between us and brushed my lips against hers. She gasped and pulled back a little. I caught her chin and gently pulled her close. “You’re brave,” I kissed her again, firmer this time. “You’re cheeky,” this time when I kissed her, I felt her smile. “And you’re adorable,” I tried to kiss her again, but she pulled back, a disappointed look on her face.
    “No, I’m not,” she said.
    I reached for her, slipping my hand around the back of her neck, burying my fingers in the hair at the nape. “Yes, you are,” I said firmly, and pulled her back to me, kissing her good and hard. This time she kissed back. It was shy, but she did it, and that bashful little kiss sent a sliver of lust straight south, followed immediately by a bolt of fear.
    What was I thinking kissing Lydia? She was so far off limits she may as well be married, or a nun, or an obligation to Randall.
    Still, her hesitant little kiss hinted at her inexperience. How delightful would it be to be the first to explore her body, to give her pleasure, to watch her realize what her body could do?
    Parts of me were eager to get started finding out; lots of parts of me. But my conscience wasn’t one of them. It was a