A Wanted Man by Susan Kay Law Page A

be intrigued. His face challenged her, the ever-shifting shadows in his eyes as the light changed, the hard angles that seemed to reveal the secrets and hardships of his life if one but knew how to decipher them.
    “You should come inside,” she said at last. “The weather’s turned, and there are darker clouds ahead. It’s likely to get worse.”
    He glanced at the sky. “I’m fine.” So she’d finally decided to talk to him, Sam thought. He hadn’t expected her to hold out as long as she had. The lively curiosity that shone in her face whenever she saw anyone or anything new had to get the better of her sooner or later. Hehadn’t been traveling with them but a few hours before that became obvious. “I’m used to the weather. This is nothing compared to the high desert on a winter night. You’re going to get chilled, though.”
    “I like it.” To prove it, she dropped the arms she’d hugged to herself. “Crisp. Invigorating.”
    “It is that.” She’d start shivering in a moment, he’d wager. Fresh color sprang into her cheeks. The fine, thin silk of her shirtwaist, the color of pearls, nearly as pale as her skin, couldn’t be much armor against the weather. The fabric was damp already, clinging lightly to the angle of her collarbone, the gentle curve of her upper breasts.
    He shouldn’t be thinking of such things. Beyond the fact that she was merely a means to an end, and that using her any more than he’d already planned to would be unconscionable, it was clear that she’d been sheltered and protected for her entire life. She was years younger in experience than she was in truth—and she had to be enough younger than he it should give him pause as it was.
    But his thoughts were not that governable. He’d spent the better part of two weeks looking at her—if he was supposed to appear to be guarding her, he’d decided, he’d better put up a good show of it. And one could not look at her so much without gaining a certain…appreciation.
    She was not conventionally pretty at first glance. Too pale, too thin, bland brown hair, and light blue eyes, nothing that caught one’s attention and held it, and those beautiful, clever clothes she wore drew the eye away from her.
    But she wasn’t what he expected. How could the daughter of such privilege be so innately kind? She was thoughtful of her guards, her companion; sherarely asked them for anything, much less issued the orders he knew they’d have followed without question. She wore her luxurious clothes without a hint of preening, as if she had no pride in them, and they meant no more to her than one of his old flannel shirts did to him. He had yet to decide if that was a good or bad quality, proof that she was irretrievably spoiled and so did not appreciate them or whether it confirmed that the trappings of wealth were meaningless to her.
    But it was hard to consider her spoiled when she took such delight in every new sight and everyone she met. It made no difference whether it was a grand sweep of landscape or a shack on the verge of tumbling down, whether the person was a mayor dressed in a high hat greeting her on a bunting-bedecked depot or a weathered, cantankerous old farmer who’d complained mightily about her arrival holding up his lunch. They all fascinated her, a lively interest that couldn’t be feigned.
    And that was when plain transformed into something else entirely. The warm brightness of her smile, turned indiscriminately and powerfully on everyone she met, and the vibrant light in her eyes were far more affecting than mere prettiness. He wondered if he’d ever again be quite so taken by beauty.
    Like now. She wasn’t smiling—hadn’t quite forgiven him enough for that—but she gazed at him with fierce concentration, a pucker to her mouth as if she was pondering something vital. And it made him feel important, in the way the son of an Ohio farmer who’d never done anything but survived shouldn’t feel.
    “So…you’re