Free Bride of the Shining Mountains (The St. Claire Men) by S. K. McClafferty Page A

sayin’? Why, of course it
does.”
    He crooned softly to the cat, then turned his attention once again
to Reagan. “She is a she, not an it,” he corrected her. “Josephine, this is the young woman I was
telling you about, Miss Reagan Dawes, the one who has caused such a stir. Kaintuck,
Josephine.”
    Reagan grimaced at his use of the sobriquet. “Kaintuck” was a
title tacked onto boatmen and Westerners by dandified city folk, and anything
but a compliment.
    “I wouldn’t be too free with name-callin’ if I were you,” she
said. “After all, I ain’t keepin’ company with no catamounts.”
    Jackson ignored her rebuff. “You may pet her if you like.” But
Reagan couldn’t force herself to get so close to a natural enemy. “If it’s all
the same to you, I think I’ll pass.”
    Jackson seemed to have no such compunction. He thumped the
feline’s broad breast in a less than gentle show of affection, then sprawled in
the grass and propped his head on his hand. The cat curled in a large tawny
ball near his feet and, yawning once, settled into a nap. “Set aside your
caution and warm yourself. There are bacon, biscuits, and plenty of strong,
black coffee.”
    Sensing that the danger had passed, Reagan sat, but she continued
to watch him as she nibbled a strip of bacon. Jackson made a great show of
ignoring her, pouring himself a cup of steaming coffee, then sugaring it in a
shameless fashion.
    “You mind tellin’ me just how the two of you came to be... acquainted?”
she asked, foregoing the coffee and helping herself to a dipper of water
instead.
    “I came across her early last autumn. Her mother had been killed
by a grizzly down on the Green River. There were two cubs, but the other one
had already perished. Josephine had hidden herself beneath a rocky outcropping,
and she hissed at me as I passed by. She was such a sad little thing,
completely alone in the world. I simply could not bring myself to leave her to
her fate. And so I took her home to Saint Louis. Surely you could not fault me
for that?”
    Reagan shook her head. She could not fault it, but neither did she
comprehend it. “I am not sure that you did her a great service. She is a wild
thing, and she belongs in the forest.”
    “Indeed. She’s wild, just like you—or rather, she was. But in time
she gentled to my touch, grew to adore me... as will you, eventually.”
    “I wouldn’t be so sure of myself, if I were you,” Reagan informed
him, though, privately, the mere thought of his touch thrilled her, raising a
welter of gooseflesh on her torso and upper arms.
    Reagan watched as he added a third lump of raw sugar to his cup
and stirred it with a twig.
    “I didn’t figure a man who keeps company with mountain lions to
sweeten his coffee,” she said after a while. “You seem more the type to gulp it
straight from the pot, and strain the grounds through your teeth.”
    He smiled at that, though a trifle grimly, saluting her with his
cup. “Youth and naiveté do not make for sound judgments. That’s why women your
age need guidance.”
    “What would you know about women my age?”
    “Enough to procure a fitting mate for you without a great deal of
difficulty, providing, of course, that you cooperate.” His words chilled her to
the marrow. Clutching her cup, she gaped at him. “Mate... as in husband? You
can’t be serious.”
    “Oh, but I am,” he assured her. “I have given the matter a great
deal of thought, and it seems the best, most efficient way to secure your
future. I do realize, of course, that it won’t be easy. Your beauty is
unspoiled, it’s true, yet there are other facets of your personality that shall
require some... shall we say, refinement?”
    Reagan choked on her last bite of bacon, staring in disbelief as
he went doggedly on, blissfully unaware of the storm gathering once more
around him. “Luckily, I am not without resources, and shall see to the task of
making you over the moment we arrive in Saint