Free Divine Deception by Marcia Lynn McClure Page B

stepped forward, coming to stand beside the sleeping, mysterious man who was her husband. The quilt Patty provided had slipped from his body. It lay in a heap on the floor. His other arm was tucked under his body. Though his head was turned away from her, for the first time Fallon gazed at proximity at the long, dark brown hair that covered his head and lay across his back and shoulders. Bending over him, praying inwardly for a glimpse of the face of the man she married, Fallon held her breath. The long hair covering his shoulders also lay across his face, completely hiding it from her.
    Straightening, her attention was captured once more by the intense scars on Trader’s back. She thought again how painful they must have been to receive no matter how they were inflicted. Fighting the incredibly strong urge to reach out and trace the brutally mutilated flesh, she turned her attention to his long legs. He wore tall riding boots, and she fancied his boots would probably reach up to her knees if she were to put them on. His thighs were like tree trunks, and the muscles in his arms, though he was resting, were enormous. Returning her attention to his back, she noted his skin was smooth and unblemished except for the scars.
    The temptation was too great, and Fallon watched as her own small hand moved forward. She felt confident he wouldn’t wake simply because his hair was brushed from his face. It was her blessed opportunity to glimpse the face behind the mask. She would not let it pass and be lost.
    As her fingertips touched the hair at his neck, Trader instantly turned onto his back. Before Fallon could gasp a breath, he grabbed her wrist, violently flinging her to the floor. Taking hold of her other wrist, Trader pinned her hands above her head, straddling her body with his legs and sitting down hard on hers. Though completely terrified, Fallon looked up to see the moonlight no longer fell on him; his long hair was hanging forward, hiding his face.
    “ You’ll pay for that with your life, you filthy Yank!” he growled.
    His ravings instantly let her know he was not fully conscious, and Fallon began to panic. “Trader! It’s me!” she cried out. A quick vision of him breaking her arms the way he had the arms of the men at the store in town weeks back lingered in her mind. “It’s me, Trader. Fallon!” His head bent closer to hers, his long hair brushing her face. “It’s Fallon, Trader! Please! You’re hurting me,” she cried. The pressure on her wrists lessened, but he still held her tightly.
    “ Fallon?” he muttered, releasing her wrists and sitting more heavily on her legs.
    “ Yes! Now please get up. I can’t even feel my legs any longer, you big oaf!” she whispered.
    Leaning forward again, he pinned her arms to the floor once more. “What are you doing in here?” he whispered angrily.
    “ I…I…wanted to see if you were home,” she stammered. “I was worried.”
    “ Were you?” he asked. “Why?”
    “ Because it’s so very late,” she stammered. His touch was disturbing. She was quickly moving beyond rational thought. “I thought…I wondered…I began thinking…” She knew she could never confess anything of what she had truly been thinking to him. She struggled for an excuse and to set herself free of his grasp. “You nearly reek with her perfume, Trader!” she finally spat out.
    “ What? I was helping with the colt, Fallon,” he stated. Then he bent his head toward hers again. As his hair fell about her face and head, he whispered, “I see; I forgot. You think I’ve been seducing Julia. Well…if I do smell of her perfume, Fallon, it is only because she was there helping with the foal too.”
    Fallon knew his head was very close to hers. She felt his breath warm and alluring on her face. “Let me up, you big bully,” she whispered, hoping he would never release her, silently begging to taste his peppermint-laced kiss again. Even now, after having helped with the foal, after