Mountain Wild. Stacey Kayne

have a husband? “You live way up here alone?”

      “You should be focusing on getting your strength back. You’ll be leaving as soon as the weather allows.”

      Her hostility and evasiveness gnawed at him. He was obviously making her nervous. Hell, he was making himself nervous!

      “I know for certain I wasn’t near any homestead when the storm hit,” he said, hoping a less invasive question would get him some answers. “At least none that I’m aware of. I’ve lived in this area for nearly nine years.”

      “Do you really think you’re on a homestead?”

      She wasn’t buying any of it.

      “No, ma’am. More of a miner’s claim, I suppose.”

      Her single arched eyebrow wasn’t a denial or a confirmation. The sheer challenge in her gaze caused a discomforting stir in his britches. He was starting to think he had a thing for sassy women. Sassy, stern and pretty beyond measure.

      Her cheeks flushed to a soft pink before she hooded those blue eyes with thick lashes.

      And passionate, his mind added. She’d been hesitant at first but had quickly turned to sweet fire in his arms.

      Garret dropped his spoon, the provocative images in his mind driving him to the brink of insanity.

       “Did I bed you?”

      Her gaze snapped up, pinning him with those vibrant blue eyes.

      Well hell, that hadn’t been the smooth delivery he’d hoped for.

       Chapter Five

      “No, you didn’t!”

      Garret heaved a sigh of relief and shoved his hands through his hair. Oh, thank God.

      Her angry glare cut his relief short.

      “I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m a little…out of sorts.”

      “I dragged your sorry hide two miles through the snow,” she raged, her crossed arms locked tight over her chest. “I was tired!”

      Garret’s breath stalled, the tremble in her voice confirming his fear—he hadn’t been dreaming.

      “Had I known you’d awaken with such intensions, I can assure you I’d have left you in the—”

      “I’m sorry,” he said, lunging to his feet. “Honest to God, I wouldn’t have—”

       “Sit! Down!”

      He obeyed the command only because he recognized her fear. Beneath the anger in her gaze, he saw panic.

      “I took advantage,” he said quickly. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”

       “Neither was I.”

      The stain of embarrassment on her cheeks stabbed at his conscience. He hadn’t given her a chance to refuse him, having coaxed her body into passion while she slept. “It was all my fault,” he said. “You were sound asleep. Your body was on my side before you even woke up and I—”

      “Enough!” she shouted, her fingers clamping over the hilt of her blade. Garret carefully regarded the hostility in her posture poised to strike.

      “I swear I’d never force myself on you.” Holy hell. He wasn’t rightly sure what he’d done before he’d passed out. He knew what he’d wanted to do.

      “Oh God,” he groaned, horrified at the thought of shaming the woman who’d saved his life. “Did I hurt you?”

      The concern in his soft tone caught Maggie off guard.

      Did he hurt her? She’d never felt anything so exquisite in all her life. “Ma’am? If I—”

      “You kissed me,” she said. “And then you blacked out with fever.”

      “That’s all?”

      That’s all? “That was enough!”

      “I was afraid…the thought of forcing you—”

      “You didn’t,” she clipped. Remembering just how willingly she’d responded to his kisses increased the fire beneath her cheeks. The sheer relief in his expression doubled her embarrassment. His eyes no longer clouded by fever, the thought of such intimacy with someone like her likely repulsed him. Alarmed by the moisture burning her eyes, Maggie turned toward the stove.

      “I was disrespectful.”

      Startled by the voice directly behind her, Maggie spun around. He stood a foot away, his fingers tucked into his pant pockets, his expression nothing short of miserable.

      “I am truly sorry.”

      The ache in her chest intensified. “Okay,” she said, hardly able to breathe the word.

      “It ain’t a wonder you’ve looked on the verge of skinning me. I’d be gunning for any man who’d treated my sister in such a way. Honest to God, I thought you were a dream. I couldn’t imagine why else I’d be in bed beside such a…”

      Maggie steeled herself for the insult. Hag? Shrew? She’d heard them all, whispers of townsfolk when she’d venture into a settlement.

      “Beautiful woman. I figured I must be dead or dreaming.”

      Surprise rippled through her. Was he mocking her?

      He took a step back, caution darkening his gaze—the effect she was used to having on folks—and Maggie realized she was glaring at him.

      “Did you really drag me two miles through the snow?”

      She wanted to rage at him to keep backing up, to sit down and shut up until he cleared out…but she couldn’t. His solemn gaze choked her anger and put an ache in her belly. He felt bad—she didn’t know why that should soften her rage, figuring he ought to feel real bad and then some for all he’d put her through. It had been sheer hell, having her hands all over him while fighting the memory of his sweet words and even sweeter mouth.

      “I had a sled,” she told him, his silent guilt wearing on her nerves. “Not that it made the climb an easy one.”

      “Thank you.”

      His gaze held hers as an unfamiliar surge twisted through her, feelings she couldn’t identify.

      “Guess I can’t blame you for not wanting to share your name after the way I shamed you. Don’t blame you a bit for reactin’ so hostile. I’ll admit, for a moment there, I thought you might be the woman they call Mad Mag. I swear, I—”

      “Grace.” She blurted out her middle name, the first that came to mind.

      “I beg your pardon?”

      Realizing she’d shouted the name at him, she dragged in a calming breath. “My name is Grace.”

      His stormy eyes warmed as his lips curved into a grin.

       Sweet mercy.

      “You look like a Grace.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “That it’s a pretty name.”

      She blinked against a sudden burning in her eyes. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t breathe with him standing so close. “You still have food on the table.”

      He gave a nod and turned away from her. “I have a niece named Grace. She and her sister are six years old and cute as buttons.”

      The moment his butt touched down on the chair she made a dash for her coat and shrugged into the heavy fur as she reached for the door.

      “Where are you—?”