Free Outlaw for Christmas (9781101573020) by Lori Austin Page B

the next kissing the only person who had ever mattered.
    Ruth joined him at the table, for all the world as if this were their house, their life, their love. Noah stuffed his mouth with soup before he said or did something more foolish than he already had.
    â€œOne more week and it’ll be New Year’s Eve.”
    Noah swallowed. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone by then.”
    â€œThat’s not what I meant. We hold a ball that night. I thought you could attend.”
    â€œNo, I couldn’t.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI’m not the kind of man who attends balls. I’m the kind of man who tends the horses.”
    â€œWe have someone for the horses. Though father did say he was going to hire another man for the party.” Her face went dreamy. “I would so love to dance with you as the clock strikes midnight.”
    The chasm between her world and his widened. “I don’t know how to dance, Ruth.”
    The dreamy expression faded. “What?”
    â€œThere wasn’t much call for dancing in my life. Or for parties or fancy clothes, either.”
    When they’d stepped on that train ten years ago, even then she’d been a little lady, and he’d been a thief. Very little had changed but their location.
    â€œWhat are you saying?” She tugged on the necklace that graced her neck.
    The sparkle of the stone caught his eye. Not a stone, really, but a jewel. Dark blue, not Ruth’s color. What fool bought her blue jewels and yellow dresses? Someone who knew nothing about Ruth at all.
    She should wear garnets about her neck and emeralds in her ears. Only silk or satin should touch her skin.
    If he could buy her things, he would not purchase hues that would befit a porcelain doll, but rather the colors of Christmas. Though no cloth, however rich, could rival the fire in her hair or the evergreen shade of her eyes.
    The fact that he couldn’t buy her jewels, neither silk nor satin—he couldn’t afford calico right now if the truth were told—made Noah angry. Ruth deserved all that she had and more, but he could only give her less and less.
    â€œI can’t come to your party,” he snapped. “I’ve got better things to do than dance and drink punch.”
    Her lips tightened. She stood, picked up his empty bowl, and put it in the dishpan.
    Noah wanted to apologize for his sharp words. But he had to keep her from dreaming or she might convince him to dream, too. Noah was a man who had no business dreaming.
    Ruth stopped behind his chair. He could feel her body at his back without looking, without touching. He had never been so aware of another human being—every glance, every touch, every breath. He’d never wanted anyone so badly he burned with desire. He had to leave here as quickly as he could before he ruined her forever.
    She touched his hair—one gentle weave of her fingers through the length at his neck. “Stay, Noah.”
    The feelings her touch, her whisper, engendered told Noah the truth.
    He had to leave before she ruined him.
    ***
    Touching Noah soothed Ruth. With the warmth of his skin against hers, she was reassured that he was really here. This time she wasn’t dreaming.
    But she should have kept her mouth closed. Because as soon as she asked him to stay, he got up and moved away.
    The bedsheet rode low on his hip, revealing a line where the sun had not shined. Even the natural shade of his skin was darker than the aged white of the sheet.
    There were scars on his back, too. Old, thin raised lines that Ruth wanted to trace and question. But she knew better.
    He hitched the sheet higher, and the play of the muscles in his back and down his arms made her mouth go dry. She wanted to touch his skin with her hands, then her mouth.
    â€œI have to change the bandage,” she blurted out.
    Noah glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. Her voice had come out low and hoarse, like those mornings