No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(57)
The obedient lads dipped their heads to chomp at the prairie grass while Mal set about unfastening the double yoke at the rear and tying up the reins that drooped behind them. He had to do some fancy hoof shuffling to get Helios untangled from the tug lines, but eventually everything was put to rights.
The team suffered several scrapes and cuts, and Mal was sure they would discover many places where the harness had rubbed them raw once he got them back to the station-house barn, but they were whole and hearty for the most part. He ran his hands along each of their legs, found some inflammation below both of Helios’s front knees, but Mal found no evidence of a break. Thank God. He didn’t want to think of what Porter would do to him if he’d had to put one of the animals down. Hermes and Helios would need a heavy dose of rest, salve for their scrapes, and plenty of pampering, but they should make a full recovery.
He clicked his tongue and got his borrowed nag to follow him as he led the two Shires back through the grass toward the road. Helios limped a bit but trudged gamely on, keeping pace with Hermes’s plodding as Mal walked between their heads, lightly gripping their bit straps. They’d nearly reached the road when the sound of an approaching wagon brought Mal’s head around. He released his grip on Helios and reached for the revolver at his hip. But there was no need. The driver didn’t pose a threat. At least not to the horses.
“Malachi! Thank heavens!” Emma dropped the arm she’d been holding up to shield her eyes from the sun and set the brake. Then in a flurry of deep red skirts that were far too fine to be traipsing through the dusty countryside, she clambered down from the high seat.
He tried not to notice the white ruffles of her petticoat or the flash of slender ankle momentarily exposed by her hurry, but such a feat was apparently beyond his heroic capabilities.
“What are you doing here, Em?” He resumed his stride, ducking his head to avoid the far too enticing sight of her, and led the horses up onto the packed dirt of the road. “Didn’t Porter’s episode prove it’s not safe to be out here alone?”
“You’re out here alone.” She crossed her arms and gave him one of her I-dare-you-to-argue-with-that-logic looks.
Unable to pass up the challenge, he looked her dead in the eye. “I’m armed.” He patted his holster.
She lifted her chin. “So am I.” She glanced back over her shoulder toward the wagon. “I’ve got Betty’s shotgun under the driver’s seat.”
“Doesn’t count if it’s not within reach.” Mal smirked at her, then led the horses past, shrugging very unapologetically as he went.
“Malachi Shaw!” she sputtered, uncrossing her arms and storming after him just like she used to do the times he bested her in an argument when they’d been kids. “You know quite well that gun was within reach until I stepped down.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s not within reach now.” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Man, she was fun to fluster. Her cheeks got all pink, and she dropped that oh-so-proper-banker demeanor.
“Well . . .”
He slid a sidelong glance her way and swore he could see the wheels spinning in her mind. Then all at once triumph lit her eyes. Before he knew what she was about, she dashed around Helios’s head and planted herself right in front of Mal. He stumbled to a halt.
“You’re within reach,” she announced right before she snaked an arm around his waist and ducked beneath his outstretched arm. “And you’re my greatest weapon of all.” Her eyes met his. The competitive triumph flickered, then slowly gave way to something softer. Warmer. “And you’ll never let anything hurt me as long as you are near.” Her chin tilted up as she gazed into his face, her lips plump, her words a husky whisper.
“Never,” he murmured, surprised he could find breath enough to fuel even that single word. Her faith in him, her absolute trust, terrified him. Yet at the same time, it made him feel invincible. After his failure to find the men who threatened her, to stop them, how could she look at him with those brilliant eyes—eyes that sported not one speck of doubt to dim their shine?
“I’m so glad you’re here, Malachi.” Her arm tightened slightly around his waist. Her lashes dipped. Her cheek turned.
Mal bit the edge of his tongue and drove his gaze heavenward. Lord, have mercy. . . . He could feel her fingers through the cotton of his shirt right beneath his rib cage. Then she leaned closer. The scent of her hair directly beneath his nose, tantalizing him. Then her face touched his chest, and her second arm wrapped about him. She nestled in with little movements, like a pup finding just the right place to nap. And oh, how he wanted to hold her to him, to claim her as his, to let her nestle up against him just like that every night for the rest of their days.
His arms trembled from the effort it took not to release the horses and cling to her instead. Could she hear his heart? He didn’t see how she couldn’t. The thing was driving against his ribs like a locomotive at full speed.
“Em . . . ” he croaked, not knowing what he meant to say. Em, you can do worlds better than me. Or Em, you don’t know what you’re doing.
But he feared that what he really meant deep down in his greedy, good-for-nothin’ bones was . . . Em, I love you more than I love my own life. Hold tight, girl, and never, ever, let me go.
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