The Bachelor Tax. Carolyn Davidson

make sport of me, Mr. Tanner,” Rosemary told him. “I’m sure you’re more than aware that I have no use for your livestock.” She glanced around, her eyes flitting from house to barn, to the chicken coop and back again.

      “Lookin’ things over, Miss Gibson?” Tanner drawled.

      She met his look squarely, her nostrils flaring, her mouth fixed. “You know why I’m here, Mr. Tanner.”

      One big hand over his mouth, Bates muffled his laughter as best he could, attempting to turn the snorting noise into a coughing spell.

      “Do I, now?” Tanner stepped forward, his callused palm reaching to tilt Rosemary’s face upward. Defiant blue eyes met his, and a shiver snaked its way down his back.

      “No,” he said in a harsh whisper, “I don’t know why you’re here. Why don’t you tell me?” His fingertips moved ever so slightly, brushing the delicate texture of her skin and his gaze shifted, as if drawn to the movement.

      “May we speak privately?” she asked, her eyes darting to the side, where Bates watched, wide-eyed.

      “Bates, go check with Cotton about your horses,” Tanner said through clenched teeth, his gaze intent on the woman his fingers held captive.

      Bates shuffled away, obviously disgruntled by this turn of events. Probably the best fun he’d had all week, Tanner thought.

      But if the female before him was enjoying the event, she took great pains to hide the fact. Her skin had lost its color, her eyelids fluttered, and she had her teeth clenched firmly into her lower lip, just inches from where his fingers touched her skin.

      “You’re gonna be bleedin’ in a minute if you don’t quit chewin’ on your mouth like that,” Tanner warned her, then winced as her teeth clenched and a tiny speck of blood formed on her lip.

      “Ah, hell, cut that out!” Tanner’s whisper rose to a growl and Rosemary’s eyes flew open.

      His grip tightened. “Just spit it out, Miss Gibson. I’ve got work to do. Tell me what you’re doin’ on my place, and I won’t be gettin’ riled up.”

      She jerked from his touch, and he watched with dismay as four small red marks appeared where his fingertips had pressed her skin. The word he muttered beneath his breath opened her eyes wider still, and she looked around as if seeking a way out of the predicament she’d managed to create.

      “I think I’ve changed my mind.” She backed from him until her skirts touched the wheel of the buggy.

      He followed, his anger appeased by the confusion she could not hide. She was breathless, her lush bosom almost vibrating with her effort to fill her lungs, and he found it impossible to keep his eyes from the sight.

      “Please let me get back in the buggy, Mr. Tanner. I shouldn’t have come here.”

      He shook his head. “You’re the one who came visitin’, sweetheart. Now, tell me why.” He’d never enjoyed pestering a woman so much, and for a moment he was ashamed. She was no match for him, this big-eyed little fugitive from the parsonage.

      Amusement won out over shame and he leaned closer.

      It was a mistake. Her mouth was trembling, her eyes frantic in their appeal, and her hands lifted to spread against his chest. The movement carried with it a faint scent of flowers and he bent his head, inhaling the hint of fragrance. Dowdy be damned. She smelled good enough to eat, and for a moment he felt starved for sustenance.

      Those fingers clenched into fists and her chin lifted defiantly. “I think you’re trying to intimidate me, Mr. Tanner.”

      He grinned. “No, I’m tryin’ to figure out what you smell like.” His nose dipped into the curve of her neck, just beneath her ear, and she swallowed a shriek, its sound muffled in her throat.

      Her whisper was thready. “Whatever do you mean?”

      “You smell good, sweetheart. I noticed it the other day when I carried you across the street in town.”

      “It’s apple blossom cologne,” Rosemary said hastily. “Pip sells it at the emporium.”

      His thighs leaned into her, and he nudged her face with his own, tilting it upward. Her lips were pink, almost matching the flush that bloomed from her throat to her forehead, and he watched as they parted.

      The movement of her mouth caught his attention, and with a muffled sound he kissed her, planting his lips directly on hers.

      She had nothing to compare it with, this hot, damp capturing of her mouth. No other man had ever claimed her lips in this manner. Granted, her experience was sorely limited, only a chaste brush against her cheek one afternoon in the churchyard, years ago.

      Rosemary sagged against him, her fists captured between their bodies, her eyes crossing as she fought for breath. She uttered muffled imprecations, only to find his tongue whispering along the seam between her lips, as if he would beg admittance. Her head was captured by a large hand that had somehow scooped beneath her hat to fit long fingers through her carefully twisted and pinned locks.

      Not only had he taken her breath, but now the ribbon of her bonnet was cutting into her throat as his hand wedged between the black straw and her head. And then, as if he had discovered her plight, he eased the fingers of his other hand beneath her chin, and with a quick movement, the bonnet was released and tossed to the ground.

      Tanner’s mouth eased from hers, brushing back and forth, each tingling increment sending shivers down her spine.

      Her hands clenched, fingers gripping fabric warmed by the flesh beneath it, and she leaned against him, her legs seemingly useless beneath her.

      If Tanner had thought to frighten her half to death, he was well on the way to success, Rosemary thought frantically. His big body was wedging her against the buggy wheel and his mouth had taken unforgivable liberties. His grin had vanished, and now he was looking at her as if he were angry as sin.

      His dark eyes were mere slits, his skin was pulled tight over his cheek and jaw, and his mouth was only inches from her own. Rosemary opened her lips, whether to speak or call for help, she couldn’t decide, and then closed her eyes against the sight of his frightening visage.

      “Now, sweetheart,” he whispered harshly. “Tell me why you came to visit.”

      Her lashes flew open, and he shook his head. “No, just shut those blue eyes and answer me.”

      “I can’t,” she wailed.

      His voice was a purr. “Sure you can.”

      She inhaled sharply and the words spurted forth, as if shot by rifle fire. “I came to take you up on your offer, but I’ve changed my mind.”

      “Changed your mind? Why?”

      “I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

      “Did you get a better offer?” His eyes glittered, his head lifting a bit as he scanned her face.

      “No!” She shrank from him, the buggy wheel unforgiving against her back.

      “I thought you didn’t want to marry me. You turned me down, Miss Gibson.”

      How he could call her by such a formal address when his tongue had been almost touching her teeth just moments ago was beyond her comprehension. “I didn’t, actually,” Rosemary muttered.

      “Sure sounded like it to me.”

      Rosemary shook her head. “As I recall, I only asked you why you wanted to marry me. I didn’t turn you down flat.”

      He leaned back, his eyes flashing, his jaw jutting forward. The lips that had touched hers were still damp and he barely opened them as he spoke. “You didn’t?”

      “No, I didn’t.”

      “Now you’ve decided to take me up