The Prairie Doctor's Bride. Kathryn Albright
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and stared at the fire in the hearth.
It came as a bit of a surprise that he was warm—warmer than he would be at his fancy two-story house in town, where the wind whistled and made the boards creak. Here, there were no cracks or knotholes for the breeze to pass through. Whoever had built this home had done a decent job with the materials at hand.
Before long, her breathing became deep and even. Her eyes drifted close as she slid slowly and surely to rest her head in the crook of her arm on the table.
He moved the gun out from under her elbow and took a moment to consider her. She must be somewhere around twenty-five by her unlined face and the lack of gray in her dark brown hair. Her skin was smooth and pale. He liked the slight upturn of her nose at the end. Considering the flash in her eyes when he mentioned the catgut, the shape of her nose went along well with her stubbornness. Unguarded like this, with her frown replaced by a peaceful expression, she was...attractive. Immediately, he looked away. She was just a young and determined mother. That was all. And, annoying as it had been to be kidnapped, he admired her spunk and her devotion to her son. To notice anything more about her was...unsettling. He pushed the thought away and settled back in his chair to keep watch the rest of the night.
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