Angel Creek by Linda Howard

steps with two long strides, dropping his hand from his pistol when he saw her. “Why didn’t you answer?” he asked in irritation, then he stopped as he got a good look at her.
    She was swaying slightly as she stood in the doorway,while her right hand, held down at her side, clutched the frame so tightly her fingers were bloodless. She was barefoot and wore only a plain white nightgown, long-sleeved and high-necked, as demure as a nun’s habit except for the fact that he could see the darkness of her nipples beneath the cloth. Her heavy mane of hair was loose and tousled, hanging down her back in a black tide. At first glance she seemed perfectly all right, and his body was already responding to her improper attire, but almost immediately he realized that her face was white and that she was holding herself stiff and motionless.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” he asked, reaching for her because she looked as if she would collapse at his feet. Alarm made his tone rough.
    â€œNo, don’t touch me!” she cried in panic, shrinking away from his hand. The movement brought more pain, and though she bit her lips to keep from crying out, a moan sounded low in her throat. When she had control of herself again she said, “I fell out of the barn loft. I’m too sore to do anything.”
    â€œCome back inside and let me shut the door,” he said. He didn’t make the mistake of trying to help her, even though she could barely move. He suppressed a strong urge to yell at her because if she didn’t insist on living by herself and doing a man’s work she wouldn’t be hurt, but that would wait. He entered behind her and closed the door, then crossed to the fireplace and quickly added a couple of logs, using the poker to stir up the coals.
    â€œWhen did you fall?” he asked curtly, turning back to her.
    â€œLate yesterday afternoon.”
    At least she hadn’t been lying helpless for days. It had been a week since he had seen her, so she could easily have been injured all of that time.
    He tossed his hat aside and knelt on one knee beside her. “This will hurt, but I’m going to check for any broken bones. Just stand there as still as you can so I can get it over with.”
    â€œI don’t think there’s anything broken,” she protested. “But I’d be grateful if you’d take care of the animals today. I’m just bruised, so I’ll be able to take care of them tomorrow after I get the soreness worked out.”
    â€œDon’t worry about the animals. And I’ll see for myself if any bones are broken or not.”
    His mutter was rough, his face grim. He had decided what he was going to do, and she knew she wasn’t in any shape to stop him. Dee clenched her fists as he put his hands under her nightgown and ran them up her legs as briskly and efficiently as if she had been a horse. His probing fingers were necessarily less than gentle, and she sucked in her breath as her sore muscles protested. He looked up, blue eyes narrowed, at her intake of breath.
    â€œMy legs are just sore from work,” she gasped in explanation.
    His hands went higher, to her thighs. The hem of her nightgown bunched over his arms. His touch was hot, his callus-roughened palms and fingers hard on her silky skin. She was acutely aware of her nakedness beneath the thin cotton, and of the heat of his big body as he crouched so close to her that her thigh was practically nestled into the curve of his broad shoulder,and his face was almost against her belly. “Stop,” she whispered.
    He looked up, and she saw that he was enraged. His eyes looked like blue fire. “Stop, hell,” he snapped. “You can forget about your modesty, because this damn nightgown is going to have to come off.”
    â€œNo.”
    He rose to his feet with savage grace. “That’s what you think.”
    She lifted her chin in a stubborn movement. “I