Free Rexanne Becnel by When Lightning Strikes Page A

most becomingly around her high breasts. Though his conscience told him she was too easy a mark for his practiced lines, another part of him thanked the one teacher who’d spun stories of mythological beings and rousing adventures. He’d had but two years of schooling, and little enough to show for it. But good old Venus melted down even the coldest-hearted woman—and Abigail Morgan was far from cold, he suspected.
    “Do you … do you read the Bible also?” she asked in a voice gone low and breathy.
    That brought him up. “The Bible?” He shrugged, debating how best to answer. “Not as much as I should. Not since I was a boy,” he added, affecting a chagrined expression. After all, women loved to save a man from his wicked ways. Maybe this particular woman needed both the Roman gods and the Christian one to soften her up. “Is your father a preacher?”
    She set the haunch on a crate, then leaped lightly to the ground. “No. No, not a preacher. He’s a—” She broke off and straightened up a bit, lifting her face to stare up at him. “He’s just a farmer. A farmer like most of the other men in the company.”
    Tanner nodded. She was a lousy liar, and that realization made him focus back on his task. If she was lying, it was for a reason, and if that reason was to hide from Willard Hogan, then he’d found his Chicago society heiress.
    But he had to be sure.
    He urged Mac nearer. Then with a creak of saddle leather, he leaned over and extended a hand to her. She hesitated, clearly confused by the gesture. But when he smiled encouragingly, she lifted her hand to take his. With the gentlest of tugs, he drew her closer, then bent down to skim her knuckles with his lips. Just a feather-light kiss, not so forward as to be deemed offensive. But his eyes promised more, and her wide-eyed gaze told him she’d received the message.
    “I accept your offer, Abby. And I promise to be on my best behavior with your father.”
    Abby had to remind herself to breathe as she watched Tanner McKnight ride away. Lord, but had there ever been a more unsettling man? At the same time that he drew her like a magnet drew steel, he also managed to frighten her clean out of her wits. How could she want to be closer to him and yet also want to flee every time she saw him?
    She pressed one shaking hand to her stomach and tried to calm her racing pulse. He was coming to dinner. Now what was she to do? She turned and hefted the generous portion of antelope in her hands. Good manners dictated that she cook his offering. But what if it came out awful? What if it was too chewy? Or tasteless? Then she remembered what Tanner had said. Cook it like venison.
    Feeling a little better, she set the haunch down again, her mind whirling with thoughts. First she must do her hair and freshen up. She climbed back up into the wagon, and it was then that she spied the dried strips of cloth still dangling in broad view.
    “Botheration!” she muttered, snatching them down from their conspicuous placement. Why hadn’t she thought to remove them before he showed up?
    She was still muttering to herself, whipping the comb through her tangled locks with brutal efficiency, when her father called out to her.
    “Abigail? Where are you, girl?”
    “Here, Papa. I’ll be out directly.”
    She heard his footsteps near the tailgate. “And what is this?”
    Nervous about what she had to tell him, Abby contented herself with fastening her hair into a single loose braid tied with a length of green ribbon. She made her way out of the tightly packed wagon.
    “It’s a haunch of antelope,” she answered in what she hoped was an appropriately casual tone. “Mr. McKnight’s hunt was successful, and this is our portion.”
    She leaped to the ground, then faced him, studying his suspicious expression. “It’s the man’s job,” she added defensively.
    “Well,” her father finally replied. “We should all be pleased that he’s so adept at it.”
    Abby covered her