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.“I misspoke.Of course I’ve seen him, just never from up close.”Clint found it rather incredible that Matt, who was attracted to pretty women like bees to honey, had never homed in on Rachel.She was one pretty little gal, make no mistake.“Well, trust me, honey, he doesn’t just outshine me.If women’s reactions to him are any indication, we’re talkin’ a total eclipse.Just you make sure you don’t fall for any of his blarney.Mistake or no, you’re married to me, not to him.”He clicked his tongue to the horse and nudged it to a faster pace.At just that moment, a jackrabbit bounded out from a clump of brush onto the road.The unexpected flash of movement spooked Clint’s roan, and before he could react, the stallion reared to strike the air with its front hooves.Rachel had no stirrups with which to balance her weight, and the only thing anchoring her to the saddle was Clint’s hold on her.Fearful that she might get hurt, he tightened his arm around her waist as he struggled to regain control of the horse.When the huge animal had finally quieted, Clint realized that in the confusion, he had moved his palm upward on Rachel’s ribs to partially cup her breast.She clearly didn’t appreciate the familiarity.Either that, or the stupid horse had scared her half to death.As near as he could tell, she had all but stopped breathing.“Rachel?”Very carefully, he slid his hand back down to its former resting place, then leaned slightly forward so he might see her face.His heart caught at her expression, her eyes squeezed tightly closed, her sweet mouth acquiver as she waged an obvious battle not to cry out.“Rachel…” he said more softly.“It’s all right.”“Did we smash it?”The question took him totally off guard, and he slowly circled it, not entirely sure what she was talking about.“Did we smash what?”“The poor bunny,” she asked thinly.The poor bunny? Clint stared down at her pale face, still not convinced he was reading this correctly.True, the girl had been born and raised in town, but surely that hadn’t entirely insulated her from the realities of life, rabbit stew ranking high on the list.“No, we didn’t smash the rabbit,” he replied in a voice that had gone oddly tight.“He made it across without even getting his fur ruffled.”Her breath rushed from her chest and her eyes fluttered open.Splaying a small hand over her throat, she swallowed audibly and gave a weak smile.“Oh, thank goodness.They’re such sweet little things, don’t you think? I particularly love the way they wiggle their noses.”After studying her for a moment, Clint gave himself a hard mental shake.There was no point in thinking the worst.Just because the girl was worried about one wild bunny, that didn’t mean she would be squeamish about cooking up the occasional rabbit stew.Surely not.SixThe Rafferty ranch was nestled among a stand of tall pines in a grassy valley completely surrounded by forested mountains.As soon as she got close enough to see it clearly, Rachel found it breathtaking.As Clint steered his stallion down to the house, she couldn’t shake the feeling of rightness that came over her.It was as if she’d been waiting all her life for this moment, and possibly for this man.Crazy, so crazy.She was making absolutely no sense.This marriage was a mockery and doomed to be dissolved.To entertain the notion that it might be otherwise was absolute madness.As Clint drew the horse up at the edge of the porch, she saw a blur of white next to an odd-looking stump.Peering more intently, she realized she was seeing a chopping block, with chicken feathers strewn at the base.Instantly queasy, she jerked her gaze to the house itself.Anything to keep from imagining the blood and gore that must have accompanied the recent slaughter.The house was simplicity itself, a sprawling structure of rough-hewn logs and a cedar shake roof.It wasn’t pretty by any stretch of the imagination, though it could have been charming if any attempt at all had been made to pretty it up.To say that hadn’t happened struck her as a gross understatement.In fact, by the looks of things, just the opposite had occurred.Even without her glasses, she could make out a rusted old washtub on one side of the front porch with a weathered scrub board standing on end inside it and a pair of dirt-encrusted gray socks draped over its rim [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]