Bride Of Shadow Canyon. Stacey Kayne
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you concentrate on sitting still while I finish this braid?”
“Such an age difference between you and your sister,” she continued, ignoring his comment. “There’s eighteen years between Elizabeth and me, but we had three brothers between us. Do you have other siblings?”
Lord, she must have been deprived of conversation. “No,” he said in a hard tone. “Laura was my half sister. My mother was a widow when she met and married my father.”
“How did they die?”
Hell, she was persistent. “From what I recall, they set out for an Indian camp and didn’t return. I reckon they met some Indians who didn’t much care for the preaching of a white man.”
“Oh my goodness! Do you find it ironic that you were raised in the very culture your parents were trying to convert?”
“I didn’t say they were killed by Cherokee,” Jed clarified. “And I was raised by Shuhquoy, in California mostly. We tended to roam. But I read the Bible and prayed to the God Shuhquoy called Laura’s God. What I do find ironic is my telling you I’d not be your servant, yet here I sit, braiding your hair as though I’m your damn chambermaid.”
“Why did you cut your hair when you were seventeen?”
“Because, like you, it was a pain in the ass to take care of.”
Rachell didn’t say anything, but Jed sensed her smile. He’d also noticed how her posture had relaxed as she sat chattering between his thighs. From the corner of his eye, he saw her hand reach toward his raised knee. Her fingers grazed the fringe at the top of his tall moccasin, sending a lightning charge straight to his groin.
Damnation!
He didn’t like the power this woman had over his body. He shook his head in self-disgust and secured a leather thong around the end of her silky hair. Twenty-three. She’s twenty-three! Ben’s wife was only a year younger, a girl he’d helped raise and considered his daughter in every way that mattered. Rachell was too damn young for him.
“Finished.” He flipped the braid over her shoulder. He pulled out the bonnet he’d tucked into his waistband while folding up his bedroll, and tugged it onto her head.
“Thank you.” Rachell scooted out from between his legs before she got to her feet.
Jed actually winced as he watched her rise, the vivid image of her sweetly shaped backside flashing in his mind. Dear God, he was pathetic. He hung his head like a whipped dog, resting his forearms on his raised knees.
What in blazes is wrong with me? He wasn’t a man deprived of the physical pleasures of a woman, yet his body was behaving like that of a sex-starved coal miner. Having seen every smooth inch of Rachell’s skin hadn’t helped matters.
“Jed?”
“Yeah?” he said without looking up.
“Are we leaving?”
“Yeah. Just…give me a minute.”
“Are you feeling ill?”
“Not exactly,” he mumbled.
He took a deep breath, then rose to his feet, obviously a bit too soon. The blunt proof of his stray thoughts still pressed against the confinement of his pants. Rachell’s wide eyes seemed to home right in on it.
“What the hell do you expect to happen when a man has a beautiful woman sitting between his legs, all soft and smiling?”
Her gaze darted up as her cheeks flamed to a bright red. “I, I didn’t mean…that is, I wasn’t—”
“I know!”
Why did I have to braid her hair? Now she truly looked like a frightened schoolgirl in braids and a bonnet.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he turned and walked away. “I’m not a rutting beast. I can control myself.”
At least he used to be able to.
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