Free Christine Dorsey by The Rebel's Kiss Page A

“Here,” she said, thrusting them toward him before turning on her heel and heading for the door.
    “Wait a minute.” Jake expelled an exaggerated breath, then clamped his jaw shut before catching her eye.
    “What?” Samantha paused, her hand on the latch. Why was it so disturbing to be close to him? When she’d handed him the pants, his scent, and the heat from his body had nearly been more sensual than she could handle. She needed to get outside in the fresh air.
    “You’re right. I do owe you some thanks.”
    Samantha swallowed. “You don’t owe me anything. Just get yourself better so you can leave.” She meant to stomp out of the barn, but an iron hand around her upper arm stopped her. She hadn’t heard him move and had carelessly thought him incapable of such quick motion in his present state of health. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Samantha realized she’d been wrong about a lot of things.
    His grip was proof that the captain’s strength had returned. The weight of his pistol bumped against Samantha’s thigh. But could she reach into her apron pocket without his noticing and taking the gun? And if he caught her, what would he do? She didn’t want to find out. Besides, the hand clamped around her arm didn’t exactly hurt. It simply kept her from leaving.
    Which seemed to be exactly what he wanted to do.
    “Now that I have your attention, Miss Lowery, I want to know what’s going on around here.”
    “What... what do you want to know?”
    Jake lowered his nose to within inches of hers. “For starters, who shot me?”
    Samantha hoped she didn’t look as white as she felt. She could practically feel the blood draining from her face. But she met his eye. “What difference does it make?”
    “A hell of a lot to me!” Jake sucked in his breath in agitation and immediately felt the makeshift tuck of scratchy wool loosen. His hands dropped to the blanket around his waist—and so did Samantha’s gaze. She quickly pulled her eyes back to his face, but not before they traveled the length of his broad, hairy chest.
    Turning on her heel, Samantha tried to leave, but again was stopped. “Not so fast. I asked you a question and I want an answer.”
    “When you ride with the likes of Landis Moore, you should expect violence and getting shot is part of—”
    “That’s no answer. Besides, I already told you I don’t ride with Moore. And yeah, I know you don’t believe me, but at this point I don’t really care... Wait a minute.” Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to say this Moore shot me?”
    Samantha hid the relief from her voice. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? “He could have, I suppose.”
    Those clear green eyes were little more than slits now as Jake studied her. “Could have?” The tone of his words expressed serious doubt. “Possible. But then that’s not exactly the way I remember it happening. I heard gunshots and rode into a farmyard. I didn’t see anyone. No gang of ruffians... nothing. The next thing I know a bullet slams into my chest and I wake up with you curled up beside me.”
    “I fell asleep.”
    Jake ignored her heated rebuttal. “It was your farmyard I rode into and your window I was facing when I got hit.” Jake paused. “Did Will shoot me?”
    The idea didn’t sit well with him. He’d grown to like the boy. But Samantha’s immediate denial convinced Jake he hadn’t.
    “No! Will didn’t shoot you!”
    “But then—”
    Samantha jerked away so quickly Jake didn’t stop her. Or maybe he was too amazed by his own deduction. Clearly he wasn’t expecting this. But the surprise on his face turned to shock when she pulled the revolver from her apron pocket.
    “That’s right.” Samantha cocked the gun, aiming it at a spot slightly lower than his bandage. “I shot you and... and I’ll do it again if I have to.”
    “What in the hell for?”
    “To keep you from hurting me. I—”
    “Not now,” Jake interrupted. “Before.