She let out a startled yelp. At the same time, Youngblood’s powerful arm curved around her, anchoring her to his side. Several impressions struck her. First and foremost, she was aware of the muscular strength in the arm that bound her to Logan Youngblood. Secondly, she sensed that same latent power leashed in the rest of the strong body she was pressed tightly against.
The rough fabric of his blue shirt scraped the tip of her nose. His male scent inexorably wove itself into the very air she breathed. While not unpleasant, the earthy aroma seemed shockingly invasive. Goodness, she’d never been as close to, or as aware of, any man in her entire life. Not even seeing Horace Threadgill with his trousers around his ankles in her bedchamber had seemed as intimate as being trapped in this scoundrel’s embrace.
“What in the blazes are you trying to do?”
His husky voice vibrated in her eardrum, causing a strange tingle to skip across her forearms. Her palms came up to push herself free. “I’m trying to right myself.”
He gave her a look of disgust. “You could have fooled me.”
“You may release me now.”
His mauled countenance hovered a scant inch from her upturned face. She looked into his good eye. It was the darkest shade of brown, almost black. It was also penetratingly intent. She felt as if she were caught in a beam of lantern light shining from a lighthouse on a fogbound night-which made no sense, because his glare was as dark and forbidding as a moonless sky.
“Are you ready to sit still?”
It was the kind of question one would address to an unruly child, and she resented it.
“I was trying to fetch my sunbonnet,” she informed him loftily as she struggled to extricate herself from his embrace. She didn’t want to trigger an all-out tug-of-war that would make him aware of how indelicately he held her.
Her instincts warned it was essential she keep a safe distance from a man as unapologetically primitive as Youngblood.
He eased his grip. “You should have warned me.”
“I’ll remember to do so next time.” She sank back to her side of the seat.
He pulled back on the reins. The oxen came to a dusty halt.
“Thank you for stopping,” she said briskly, turning again to look inside the wagon’s interior. “Do you happen to remember picking up my sunbonnet?”
She leaned more fully inside, scanning her dust-covered possessions for the green calico fabric. Her companion made no comment. Irritation nipped at her fragilely held patience.
She glanced at him from her ungainly position of being half in and half out of her wagon. “I asked you if—”
She broke off, disconcerted by how Mr. Youngblood’s gaze seemed affixed to that portion of her anatomy stuck outside the canvas opening. The indecorous upward thrust of her bottom was mere inches from that interested regard.
What a rude rascal he was, not to avert his glance. She scooted onto the seat, trying to regain a more orthodox pose. She blew back the strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes.
“Did you think to retrieve my bonnet as you loaded the wagon?” She refused to comment upon his impertinent inspection of her lower person. There was little point in trying to teach manners to a man who frequented military stockades.
“I rolled it up in one of your blankets.”
She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was afraid you had left it. Just give me a minute, and I’ll get it.”
“Be quick about it.”
Such a gracious fellow. She turned and entered the inside of her wagon feetfirst. It was still an awkward movement, but at least she wasn’t sticking out in all the wrong places for Mr. Youngblood’s entertainment.
She found the blanket she’d used last night and located the sadly bedraggled hat. Before returning to her seat, she took the opportunity to carefully tuck away the books she’d reclaimed before boarding the wagon.
“I’m all set now,” she announced as she climbed back next to him, shaking the winkles and dust from the muchabused bonnet.
He said nothing, nor did he make any move to proceed.
“Well, just don’t sit there and stare at me,” she muttered dourly. “According to you, time is of the essence.”
“Are you going to put that thing on?”
She looked at him in surprise. “Of course.”
“Then do it.”
“You know, Mr. Youngblood, you’re a downright irritating fellow.” She sought to untangle the snarled ribbon ties. “I wouldn’t be the least surprised to discover that’s why you were locked up—for being generally obnoxious.”
“I’m waiting for you to put on your damned hat so we can get going without you tumbling onto your sweetly shaped behind.”
He had been sneaking peeks at her posterior! A hot flush bathed her cheeks. Good grief, he was a barbarian.
Naturally, she was somewhat mollified to learn that he approved of what he’d seen. Still, the man needed the most basic of lessons on how to conduct himself with a lady. But then, criminals of his sort probably didn’t often associate with ladies, not even ones with her own somewhat maligned reputation.
“I think I can manage to put my bonnet on and remain seated,” she said sharply. “Provided, of course, that you can manage to avoid the larger holes pocking this charming road we’re obliged to follow.”
“We’re not staying on the main road.”
She stopped fiddling with the knot she’d been trying to unravel. He had her full attention now. “Why on earth not?”
“It’s sixty miles to Trinity Falls on this route. That’s a sixday journey, with a fully loaded wagon pulled by oxen.”
“So?”
“That’s six days on flat terrain that will leave us exposed to attack from any roaming Indians.”
“Which isn’t a good situation to be in,” she mused aloud.
“A better choice for us would be to leave the main road and detour through those mountains.”
Victoria looked toward the mountains in question. They loomed large and inhospitable—great granite crags stretching skyward. Caps of snow from the previous winter still covered the upper reaches. Even the tenacious pines and cedars hadn’t trespassed to those higher realms.
“You are simpleminded to think my team and wagon can scale those rugged cliffs.”
It wasn’t until the words popped out of her mouth that Victoria realized she’d spoken plainly enough for even a simpleton to realize he’d been insulted. She kept her gaze pinned resolutely on the jagged outcroppings.
“Do you plan to insult me all the way to Trinity Falls?”
There was no ignoring his tone’s stony timbre.
She decided only a coward would refuse to look at him when she answered his question. Until this very moment, Victoria hadn’t realized she had a cowardly bone in her body. She drew in a breath and ceased her futile struggles with her ribbon ties. Turning slowly, she confronted her offended companion.
“I apologize, Mr. Youngblood, for hurting your feelings.”
He stared at her hard enough with that cyclopean eye of his to raise goose bumps on her skin.
“And,” she continued gamely, “in the future, I will endeavor to control my tongue.”
At her words, his harsh gaze swooped to her lips. Her goose bumps multiplied a hundredfold.
His