Free Destiny's Embrace by Beverly Jenkins Page A

Crane asked.
    “Knee’s bothering me.”
    “The wife’s got some liniment up at the house. You
want me to fetch you some?”
    “No thanks. Just want to put in an order for some
board feet so I can get my bunkhouse rebuilt.”
    “Finally going to get it done, huh? How much you
need?”
    They spent a few minutes figuring out just how
much. Once that was decided and the price agreed upon, they walked back outside
and Logan limped over to his stallion with as much dignity as he could.
    “You sure you don’t want that liniment?”
    “Yeah, but thanks again.” As he remounted, he
fought to keep the ache from showing on his face. “You sure you’ll have the
lumber ready for me by day after tomorrow?”
    “Yep. I’ll start running the saw tonight.”
    “Thanks. I’ll send Eli over to haul it back.”
    “Welcome. Take care of that knee. You get rheumetiz
in it and it’ll be all she wrote.”
    Logan nodded, wheeled Diablo around and rode slowly
back toward home. Although he was determined not to think about her, his mind
was filled with images of the firebrand known as Mariah Cooper. He still found
it hard to believe she’d actually kicked him. As he’d noted earlier, most women
tittered and batted their eyes when he came around. Not a one ever dragged their
hand across their lips after his kiss, or registered their complaint in such a
pointed and painfully memorable manner. Admittedly, he’d provoked her, but her
provoking him with that sassy, kissable-looking mouth was what set the whole
episode in motion to begin with. He had no logical explanation as to why he’d
kissed her that way, other than having been driven around the bend by her
sassiness. He’d never done anything that insane to a woman before. She was
knee-high to a bumblebee and weighed less than his saddle, yet she’d challenged
him as if she were one of Queen Calafia’s Amazon warriors. Damnedest experience
of his life. And now, he was riding back from ordering lumber, something he
hadn’t even thought about doing when he picked her up at the train station that
morning. He didn’t want to delve into why he finally put in the order because he
was too busy trying to determine when he’d lost control of the situation. One
moment, he’d been in charge, and the next . . .
    The pain in his knee flared up as if to remind him
just how formidable an opponent she was. And her callused hands? That was a
surprise as well. She was a housekeeper, so he hadn’t expected her to have the
soft unblemished hands of a woman waited upon by servants, as Alanza had before
she married his father, but the Cooper woman’s hands had been hardened by
work—real work, and not just the run-of-the-mill scrubbing of floors or
polishing silver. She claimed to have chopped wood and pumped water since an
early age. Had there been no men in her family during those years of her life?
Had her husband Henry been an invalid, and thus unable to take on the
responsibilities usually shouldered by a man? The questions tied to his new
housekeeper were stacking up like cords of wood, and he had no answers. What he
did know was that he’d underestimated her and he’d be damned if he let it happen
again. If she wanted a test of wills, he’d give her one because he refused to be
bested by a short whirlwind of a city woman who couldn’t even sit a horse.
    A n
hour into clearing the parlor, Mariah was outside adding more items to the pile
of belongings when a fancy black coach pulled up. Out stepped a beautiful
ivory-skinned woman with shining black hair whose face and attire made Mariah
stop and stare. She was wearing a divided black riding skirt, a white
ruffle-front blouse with long blowsy sleeves, a short black vest with silver
buttons, and fancy black boots also shot through with silver. The hat perched
saucily on her sleek pulled-back hair had a flat crown. Mariah thought her look
odd but very stylish, and wondered who she might be.
    “Hello,” the woman called in an accented