Free Kate Wingo - Western Fire 01 by Fire on the Prairie Page A

seriously doubt that will happen,” Mercy assured him. “You’ve made it quite clear to all of your cohorts that I am unavailable.”
    “Yeah, but some men have a hard time taking ‘no’ for an answer.” Spencer brushed his fingers across her jawbone. “Particularly when the lady in question is standing ankle deep in a stream of water with her dr ess rucked between her thighs.”
    Too startled to voice a protest, Mercy stood rooted in place . Spencer’s gentle caress caused several beads of perspiration to trickle between her breasts.
    Why couldn’t he simply revert to being the cruel bandit of yesterday? she wondered, the southern roué standing across from her proving far more difficult to contend with.
    “If you will excuse me, I have work to do,” she said bluntly, jerking her head away from his hand.
    “What’s the matter, Mercy? Don’t you trust yourself with me?”
    “Regardless of what you may think, I have no desire whatsoever to partake of your company,” she matter-of-factly informed Spencer, hoping that the unadorned truth would send him packing.
    “Just wait until sundown. I bet you’ll be singing a different tune then.”
    “Yes, and you might not like the song I’ll be singing!” she hissed, infuriated by his unwarranted presumption.
    Snatching her skirt in her hand, Mercy tried to sidestep around Spencer, stalemated when he deftly stepped in front of her. Not about to surrender, she tried, yet again, to maneuver past him. Again, he shadowed her movements, refusing to let her pass.
    “You know, fresh fish isn’t the only thing that I’ve been hankering after,” Spencer husked, snaking an arm around her waist as he pulled her toward him.
    Caught off guard, Mercy shoved against his chest with both hands, trying to push herself free. It was a futile effort, the man easily possessing the strength of Samson. To her discomfiture, his lips grazed against her temple.
    In that instant , all of Mercy’s thoughts jumbled together. Spencer held her so close that she could feel his body heat. So close, she could smell his scent, a musky mix of leather, horses, and sweet tobacco. Suddenly lightheaded, she clutched at his shirt to steady herself.
    “Goddammit, McCabe! I’ve been lookin’ all over for you! What the hell you doing down there, anyway?”
    Spencer instantly released his hold on Mercy, shooting an irritated glance to where Ned Sykes stood at the top of the hill.
    “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he muttered as he swung himself into the saddle. Wearing a rogue’s smile, Spencer removed his hat, theatrically sweeping it in Mercy’s direction. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Hibbert. Yours, too, if you play your cards right.”
    “Why , of all the conceit!”
    “Now, don’t you worry, pretty lady. Like I said earlier, sundown will be here soon enough.” Spencer returned his hat to his head, setting it at a jaunty angle. Raising two fingers to the brim, he gave her a mocking salute. Then, with a slight tug on the reins, he maneuvered his horse up the hillside.
    Mercy stood motionless , still breathless from their encounter. She prayed that her plan would succeed for she didn’t dare contemplate another night forced to share her bed with Spencer McCabe.
    Soon enough he would rue the day that he ever brought his rebel cohorts to the Hibbert farm. Once Gabriel delivered the message to Farmer Guernsey, the Federal troops would arrive. At which time, Spencer and all the other bushwhackers would be rounded up and shipped off to a Union prison camp.
    As she made her way back to the stream, Mercy could not help but smile as she contemplated Spencer’s future.
    Within moments of returning to the stream, she spied Gabriel running down the path, his face beet red, his chest heaving. Mercy rushed toward him, hope and fear mingled into one anxious ball of emotion.
    “Were you able to find Farmer Guernsey?”
    Unable to speak, the child reached into his pants’ pocket to retrieve a slip of