Mountain Wild (Harlequin Historical Series) by Stacey Kayne Page B

him hoped her husband had left her a widow instead of abandoning her. The fact that she was too embarrassed to tell him her full name suggested otherwise. He didn’t doubt she’d been mistreated. Beneath all her apprehension was a gentle and giving woman. He wished she’d tell him her husband’s name so he could find him and beat the living hell out of him.
    “You’ve got a real talent and a mess of patience to sew such tiny things. You must have a hundred little pink flowers on that apron.”
    “There about.” She met his inquisitive stare over her needlework. “Maybe you ought to give it a try? I could show you how to darn socks.”
    He enjoyed sarcasm. She had knack for answering his questions without telling him a damn thing about herself—other than she had a quick mind and a stubborn nature. “I’m game if you are. That is, unless you have a deck of cards?”
    “No.”
    “Checker board?”
    “With whom would I play checkers? My shadow?”
    Garret grinned, liking how she’d said that. Seemed to him most folks dropped a swear word or two when their guard was down. Even his sister had been known to slip on occasion despite her efforts to keep a clean mouth in front of her youngens. Yet the more relaxed Grace seemed around him, the more pristine her word choice became. Which told him she’d most likely been raised in a strict and fancy household.
    “How long have you lived up here, Grace?”
    “Long enough to know you can’t fight the weather.”
    “I’m not trying to pry,” he hedged.
    “Uh-huh,” she countered, her disbelieving eyes briefly meeting his gaze. “Must be why you ask so many questions.”
    “I’m going a little stir-crazy, Grace. I hate being away from my ranch and not knowing…anything. For all I know, my ranch is under siege. One of my ranch hands, his folks were burned out of their place last year—burned their house and barn to the ground. They lost everything.”
    “Did they catch the raiders?”
    “His own neighbor.” Garret shook his head. As if the freeze hadn’t been bad enough, desperation had turned folks plumb crazy. “Those hangings haven’t slowed the number of rustlers springing up all over these hills, hitting ranchers still trying to recover from the freeze.”
    “That’s the nature of folks. Vultures. Attracted by the weak and the dying.”
    The disdain in her voice sprang a new crop of questions in Garret’s mind. Not that she’d answer a single one. His gaze moved over the fabric that had held her attention over the past couple of hours.
    “I suppose I’m interrupting your production.”
    “Yes, in fact. Because of you I’ve missed out on nearly a week of work.”
    “So thread me a needle.”
    Her blue eyes rounded. “You’re not serious.”
    He seriously enjoyed her reaction. He liked those big blue eyes looking up at him. “Why not? You labored over me. I’m not above doing needlework.”
    “Quit it,” she said, a smile breaking through her scowl.
    “I’m serious. I need something to keep my mind busy.”
    He stood and eased onto the mattress beside her, trapping her between her sewing basket and the headboard. Expecting her to take flight or reach for the knife at her hip, she surprised him by resuming her stitching. Though her hands were none too steady. He didn’t have to wonder why she preferred life without her man—he’d hurt her. Of that he had no doubt. Anger tensed his muscles at the thought of any man raising a hand against her tender body.
    “Let me help you, Grace.”
    “You’ll waste my thread,” she said, a quiver in her voice.
    “You think I’m just a clumsy cowpoke, don’t you?” he accused.
    Her heart skittering from the sudden closeness, Maggie risked a glance at the man sitting beside her. Garret Daines was far from clumsy—and neither was she, unless he was nearby. She’d never known anyone like him. Good-natured, hardworking, and charming as sin. “I don’t want—”
    “Have I told you that I have