Free Always You by Jill Gregory Page B

Before she could make a move to fetch hers and unroll it, however, he did it for her, placing it right beside his own.
    “I don’t think so, Cal,” Melora told him haughtily. “I’ll be sleeping as far from you as I can get—”
    “Which isn’t very far.” He cut her off, and suddenly her blood froze as she saw the rope in his hand.
    “What—what are you doing with that? You’re not going to tie me up again?”
    “Just at night,” he said grimly, deliberately not looking into her dismayed face. “So we can both get some shut-eye. Otherwise I’ll have to sleep with one eye open so you can’t escape, and you probably won’t doze off at all, watching for an opportunity. This way both of us can just relax.”
    “No!” She scrambled up and backed away from him, her gaze fixed in dread on the rope. “No, don’t do this, Cal. I promise not to try to escape. So there’s no need.”
    “I can’t trust you, Melora. There’s no point in arguing. You see, in my family I’m known as the stubborn one. That ought to give you a clue. So let’s not waste time.”
    Even as Melora thrust her hands behind her back and pressed her lips together, determined not to make things any easier for him, he seized her, yanked her hands before her, and wound the rope around them in a flashing movement that made her eyes darken with anger. She couldn’t follow the pattern of the knot, and when he secured the other end of the four-foot rope around his belt, she could have spit with frustration.
    So much for escaping.
    And just how would she manage to get any sleep at all, tethered to this arrogant outlaw, who probably snored to raise the dead?
    When he dropped down without warning onto his bedroll, she was dragged down to her knees. Tears of desolation and helplessness pooled along her lower lashes.
    But I’d rather die than ask him for mercy or pity or anything at all, she thought fervently. After all, she was a Deane, and the Deanes were as tough as old boot leather.
    She threw herself down on the bedroll, stifled a sniffle, and closed her eyes.
    But, oh, she was conscious of Cal’s long, hard-muscled frame beside hers. Strange, she ought to be sleeping alongside Wyatt in a feather bed tonight, feeling the warmth, the solidness of his body, knowing the gentleness of his hands, his kisses, and learning what it was to love a man. Instead she was freezing to death on this godforsaken plateau, trussed up like a calf waiting to be branded, sleeping beside a stranger with no heart and the coldest eyes she’d ever seen.
    Suddenly she felt a hand grip her shoulder, and lightning seemed to strike through to the bone. She drew in her breath as he rolled her over, and Melora tensed, every muscle taut for battle.
    Cal held her by the shoulders, studying her face. “You’re crying.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous!”
    In the waxy starlight she saw his lip curl. “Uh-huh.”
    “I don’t understand,” she said in a low tone, wishing she could wipe the moisture from her eyes, “how you can tear a bride away from her groom before their w-wedding. Haven’t you ever wanted to get married?”
    He gave a scornful laugh. “Can’t say as I have.”
    “Haven’t you ever loved someone?” Melora cringed as her voice broke, but she forced herself to continue. “Loved someone so much it hurts inside?”
    “No.” Cal’s tone was as hard as the gates of hell. “No one besides my family.”
    “Family? You mean you have a family?”
    Silence. Then he answered at last. “A pretty big one, matter of fact, though it used to be bigger.” His thumb gently stroked away the tears that had slipped down her cheeks. “Look, Princess, I may not have grown up rich and spoiled like you, the owner of a huge, prosperous spread, but we’re not all that different. I have family that I care about, just as I imagine you care for your... sister?”
    “Yes,” she whispered. “Her name is Jinx.”
    “What I’m doing right now, I’m doing for my family.