Free Outlaw's Bride by Maureen McKade

shouldn’t be getting those wounds wet.” She frowned, and her cheeks pinkened. “I can give you a sponge bath later.”
    His erection throbbed at the thought of Mattie’s hands sliding across his body, caressing and tantalizing … No, that wouldn’t be a good idea.
    â€œI’d rather take a bath,” he said.
    â€œBut—”
    â€œI’m a grown man, Mrs. St. Clair, not a little boy. So if your intention isn’t to seduce me, then you’d best let me take a bath on my own.”
    Mattie’s flush deepened to crimson, and he knew he’d won the argument. “It’s your choice,” she said flatly.
    Despite his victory, he didn’t feel like gloating. His blunt talk had embarrassed her, as well as himself. His manners had grown rusty and he’d forgotten what it was like to be around a decent woman like Mattie.
    After breakfast, she and Andy helped Clint out to one of the old rockers on the porch. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the sweet smell of freshly cut hay carried along on the breeze. It felt damn good to be alive.
    With a start, he realized he’d forgotten his customary morning greeting since he’d been shot. He gazed up at the blue sky brushed with white clouds that looked like horse tails and whispered, “Maybe today, Em.”
    For the first time, the words seemed harsh and were difficult to speak aloud.
    He could hear the sound of Mattie’s footsteps as she cleaned up after breakfast. Near the barn, Andy’s call to Herman startled some cooing pigeons on the roof and the beating of their wings signaled their departure. A horse nickered and Clint looked over to see Dakota prancing in the pen, the sun shining off her sorrel hide. He smiled, glad to see his old friend was being well taken care of.
    Tranquillity tempted him to relax his guard and give in to the draining exhaustion that had dogged him for over a year. He’d been pushing so hard for so long that he’d forgotten there were peaceful places like this one. Maybe that’s why the words were so tough to say today—they didn’t belong here, among people like Mattie and her son, who were truly alive.
    Unlike him, who had been dead inside since he’d found his wife’s body.
    Clint shifted and pain arrowed through his side. The man who’d shot him had also destroyed his life. He couldn’t let anyone or anything lull him into abandoning his quest for revenge.
    Mattie finished pouring steaming hot water into the tub that sat in a corner of the kitchen. Then she added enough cold water to bring the temperature down to a comfortable level. Shoving aside her nervousness, she stepped onto the porch. “If you’re up to that bath, it’s all ready for you.”
    Clint appeared startled. “You didn’t have to do that, Mrs. St. Clair. I could’ve waited until you weren’t so busy.”
    â€œThen you would’ve waited forever,” she said wryly. “There’s always something to be done around here.”
    â€œAs soon as I’m feelin’ stronger, I’ll give you a hand with the chores.”
    â€œYou’re a patient and a guest. You don’t have to work.”
    â€œEven paying you double your rate, it won’t come close to what I owe you for everything you did for me. By helping you out some, maybe it’ll come out a little closer to even.”
    Sincerity glimmered in his green eyes. Without his gunbelt and insolence, Clint Beaudry was a very appealing man—too appealing. “I never said you had to pay me double.”
    â€œI offered and I don’t go back on my word.” His voice gentled. “You earned it, Mattie.”
    The sound of her name spoken in his deep timbre brought goose bumps to her arms. How was she to resist him if she turned to mush every time he spoke her name?
    â€œAll right, if you insist,” she relented. “Think you can