Gold Rush Groom - By Jenna Kernan Page 0,5
part of her waist, entirely too high for a quick draw. He wondered if the ancient weapon even fired.
Jack raked both hands through his hair, stopping to cradle his head for a moment as he searched the beach for help. When his gaze finally returned it was to find her studying him.
The woman arrested him with her stunning blue eyes, framed by spiky dark lashes and raven brows that arched as she stared at him in silence. His arms dropped to his sides.
What was she doing here in the first place? Didn’t she have family or friends to shelter her? A strong wind might blow her off the mountain.
Surely he could make her see reason. He knew females had a knack for self-preservation and a proclivity to latch on to the best provider, at least that’s what Nancy had done, returning his ring and taking up with Jonathan Martin as quickly after his father’s death as propriety permitted. He was a good choice, all in all, with his family’s mills lining the Connecticut River from Hartford to Springfield. Was this one like her? If so, he need only find her a better partner to be rid of her.
She leaned forward and he was unable to prevent himself from doing the same. She drew him to her as surely as a magnet draws iron and he could not resist her allure. Her voice was sultry and low, as her breath brushed his cheek like a summer breeze off the Narragansett Bay.
“Don’t even think about reneging on our agreement.”
He straightened, affronted by her accusation, until he realized he had been thinking that exactly. He’d made an agreement, given his word and yet here he was trying to wiggle out of the deal. He knew what his father would have done in similar circumstances and that made the choice easy.
He met the accusation in her gaze.
“I won’t. I’m yours until Dawson.”
She laughed. “That’s fine then.”
What could the little minx possibly think to do inland? She couldn’t hope to be a miner—could she? The work alone would kill her before the ice even froze to the river bottoms.
“What is there in Dawson for you?” he asked, considering that she might be more than she appeared, for here she was alone on a beach making her way without help. If the circumstances were reversed, could he have done as well? He gave her a grudging respect for her pluck.
“Adventure and gold, of course.”
Why was he not surprised that she was after riches?
He narrowed his eyes on her, wondering what kind of a woman he had partnered with.
“Adventure?”
She nodded.
“But what will you do there?”
“I can sew or cook or sing. I’ve done all those and more to make my way here.”
“A singer?”
Could he possibly have found a woman who would be more useless on the trail?
“Aren’t you the sharp tack? Bet you graduated first in your class.”
He hadn’t graduated, though he’d been in line to be valedictorian. Likely be Francis Cobbler now. No, don’t think about those days, back when you had everything ahead of you, before the world crumbled beneath your feet.
If she noticed his sour mood turning icy cold, she gave no sign, merely laughed, a musical tinkling sound that made the muscles of his abdomen tighten.
“Gold is quite difficult to extract.”
Her smile turned his insides to oatmeal. “Oh, there’s more to life than gold. And anyway, I’ll not starve.” She placed a hand on her hip and smiled coquettishly. “And I’ve a life to live, if I can get over those fool mountains.” She gave him a direct stare, reminding him without a word of the promise he had made. He’d never met a woman like her. And what was she talking about, life being more than gold? Obviously, but most of those here were not arriving for the fun of freezing in the passes. He could not figure her.
She gave him a questioning look, her sculpted brows lifting. “We will make it, won’t we?”
He couldn’t think when he looked at her. Why was he thinking about kissing her? Perhaps it was the nearly irresistible temptation of her raspberry-colored lips.
As the woman waited for some response, she rested her hand easily on the grip of her pistol as if it were a walking stick. Did she not expect him to uphold his end of the bargain? Well, he would.
He couldn’t keep the growl from rumbling in his throat. “We’ll make it.”
That made her smile.
“Yes, we will.” She stroked the black dog’s head. The