Free Banner O'Brien by Linda Lael Miller Page A

aren’t you? And no, I’m not a priest.”
    She laughed with him and made room by the stove as he found another chair and drew it close. “If you’re not a priest, what are you?” she asked, with a forthrightness that delighted him.
    “I’m an orchardist and—despite me dandy Irish Catholic family—a Methodist minister.”
    Banner stared at him, and a ray of rare winter sunshine flamed in her dark auburn hair. “Good heavens!”
    Keith grinned and took her hand in his, and she did not draw back from him. They talked as giant flakes of snow whispered past the windows, as Francelle came and went, as the gambler slept a healing sleep.
    Keith did not release Banner’s hand until he heard a distant door open and knew that Adam was home.

Chapter Four
    “W ERE YOU REALLY MEANING TO STRANGLE ME THE other day in the hospital ward?”
    Adam was fitting the buggy harness into place, his movements strong and sure, and his teeth flashed in a grin. “What do you think, O’Brien?” he countered.
    The stable was only dimly lit, due to the snow flurries that shrouded the sun, and it smelled of stored hay, grain, and old leather, among other things. Banner stood in the wide doorway and shrugged. “You definitely looked murderous.”
    “I definitely felt murderous. That was a dangerous situation, Shamrock, and you should have left when I told you to.”
    Banner looked down at her gray woolen dress, with its short overjacket and black corded trim, and smoothed the skirts. She hoped the garment was suitablefor a visit to an Indian village. “I was afraid those men would hurt you,” she said as an aside.
    Adam left the horse and the rig to come and stand before her, searching her face. “What?”
    “I said I—”
    He stopped her by lifting his hands to her shoulders. “What am I going to do with you, O’Brien?” he asked in a soft, amused voice. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a grown man, and I can take care of myself.”
    Banner was stricken, as always, by his touch, by the sweetly alarming proximity of his body to hers. “Of course,” she replied in a mocking tone engineered to hide her reactions. “That must be why your lip is split and your eye is blackened.”
    Adam laughed. “You’ve seen Jeff. Did I really do so badly?”
    His mouth was too close to hers, entirely too close. She could almost feel the soft, searching warmth of his lips on her own, and his breath, like a stone cast into calm waters, sent tremulous ripples into the very depths of her spirit.
    Out of self-defense, Banner recalled Jeff’s swollen jaw and lacerated forehead, and the image generated the anger she needed to step back out of Adam’s spell.
    “Is that what you were going to do to me, before your mother interrupted?” she snapped.
    “You know the answer to that, O’Brien.”
    “Do I?”
    He turned back to the horse and gripped its harness, leading the animal toward the doorway where Banner stood. The small rig rattled after.
    “If you must know,” he said dryly, through the curtain of briskly falling snow, “I intended to turn you across my knee.”
    Banner was insulted, and it was this that made her tremble, rather than the crisp December weather. “In that case, I’m very glad your mother came in when she did. I would have had to have you arrested.”
    Adam laughed, caught hold of her arm, and propelled her toward her side of the buggy. “Arrested, is it? The marshal would have chuckled over that for days, O’Brien.” He lifted her easily into the seat and planted her on it with a thump. Then he just stood there, the snow making a striking contrast to his dark hair, his blue eyes bright with enjoyment. “Arrested,” he repeated after a long interval. Then he shook his head, rounded the buggy, and got in to adjust the lap rug and take up the reins.
    Banner squared her shoulders and folded her gloved hands, looking straight ahead. She remembered the day Sean was arrested. How could she forget when she’d been