Free Outlaw's Bride by Maureen McKade Page A

stand by yourself?”
    He placed his hands on the chair’s arms and tried to push himself upright. Mattie kept her arms wrapped around her waist as his face paled with pain and exertion. Finally he succeeded in standing. She unclenched her fists. “Would you like a shoulder to lean on, Mr. Beaudry?”
    â€œClint,” he said with more breath than sound. “I’d appreciate it.”
    He lifted his arm so she could slip beneath it, and she helped him inside.
    â€œWould you mind giving me a hand with my clothes?” he asked.
    Mattie’s heart jumped into her throat, and she chastised herself for her indecent thoughts. After he sat on a chair, she lifted his undershirt over his head, then squatted down in front of him to remove his boots.
    She felt a touch on her hair and glanced up to see Clint rolling one dark strand between his fingertips. “You have beautiful hair, Mattie. Soft.”
    His husky voice fueled her hunger and her breath tripped in her lungs. “Thank you,” she managed to say.
    â€œYou shouldn’t hide it.”
    â€œVanity is a sin, Mr. Beaudry.”
    â€œClint, remember?”
    If she called him Clint, she would surely give in to the urge to splay her palm against his muscled arm and feel the heat of his skin against hers. She removed his socks, leaving him clad only in his black jeans—his tight black jeans. Her hands shook and she cursed the man for his blatant masculinity.
    â€œThere, you should be able to do the rest yourself,” Mattie said as she got to her feet.
    â€œYou aren’t going to help me take my pants off?” His eyes smoldered with banked passion and the promise of fulfillment.
    Mattie forced herself to take a step back, bridling the temptation to take him up on his unspoken offer. “If you need help, I’ll call Andy.”
    He shook his head. “I think I can handle it from here.”
    â€œI’ll be outside working in the garden if you need me.”
    â€œWhat if I only want you?”
    Mattie’s belly tensed with desire, and she pretended to misunderstand him. “Let me know what you want and I’ll get it.”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” he responded dutifully with a boyish grin.
    Turning on her heel, Mattie fled for the sanctuary of her garden.
    Half an hour later, she set a bowl of newly picked peas on the porch. The silence from the kitchen made her uneasy. What if Clint had slipped beneath the water in his weakened condition? Or what if he’d stumbled getting into the tub and knocked himself out?
    Mattie’s heart thundered in her ears. She shouldn’t have allowed him to take a bath by himself—he wasn’t strong enough yet. If he was dead, she would never forgive herself.
    Throwing propriety aside, Mattie rushed into the kitchen, only to stop abruptly. Clint still sat in the tub, his head resting against the rim. A soft snore told her he had fallen asleep.
    She should wake him. So why didn’t she call out his name or walk across the kitchen to him? Instead, she studied his tranquil brow and blond eyebrows, his generous mouth and strong jawline, his smooth-muscled shoulders and arms. Her gaze traveled to his bent legs in the too-small tub, which hid the rest of him from her devouring eyes.
    â€œLike what you see?”
    Mattie jumped and sucked in her breath in surprise, then the swift, burning heat of humiliation flooded her face. “I, uh, I was … You fell asleep,” she finished lamely.
    â€œI tried to get out by myself but couldn’t, so thought I’d rest a little first. I guess I fell asleep.”
    â€œYou should’ve called out,” she scolded him, hoping to make him forget her too-avid interest in his body.
    â€œWould you have come?”
    â€œI would’ve sent Andy or Herman.”
    â€œSo why didn’t you have one of them check on me?”
    Damn the man! “I got worried.”
    A strange light came into his