Rue Allyn by One Night's Desire Page A

here. I’ll call you Kiera.”
    “Only my friends call me Kiera.”
    “Might be wise to have me as a friend.”
    She cast him a horrified look, complete with frown and raised eyebrows. “Bartering sex for friendship is beneath both of us. Besides, you think I’m a murderer, an arsonist, and a horse thief, so you’re no friend of mine.”
    A flush not caused by the fire rose on his neck. Why’d she have to go and bring up sex? He’d been aware of her as a woman from the moment he tackled her trying to take his horse. Not thinking of her and beds wasn’t easy, but he’d managed so far. Now she’d laid open the hornet’s nest and left it to him to dodge the stingers.
    “Selling yourself for my influence isn’t what I meant. Friendship isn’t about buying and selling,” he said stiffly. “So until we become friends, I’ll call you Kat.”
    She shrugged, tested the rabbits once more, and removed the spits from the fire. “These are done.”
    He took the spit she held out to him. When he finished eating he threw the bones and spit in the fire, following Kat’s lead.
    “Coffee’s ready.” She held out a cup to him.
    “So how’d you learn photography?”
    Kat studied him then stared into the fire. “Don’t suppose there’s any harm telling you. Taking pictures isn’t a crime. Although taking the wrong picture can get a woman into a peck of trouble.”
    Had she taken the wrong picture? Ev wanted to ask her what she meant by that last remark, but was more interested in just getting her to talk than interrogating her.
    “I’ve been interested,” she continued, “in photography since I sat for my first daguerreotype with my parents. I was six. They let me visit the photographer as often as he would allow over the next several years. I asked a lot of questions, and he taught me how to capture and develop images. After my folks died, I went to live with my grandfather. He didn’t approve of women practicing any profession. I had to hide my interest and got very good at taking pictures on the sly. He didn’t even know I had a developing room in the house.”
    “Man has to be pretty stupid not to know what’s going on in his own home.”
    “Grandfather wasn’t stupid, but it was a large house, and the servants lied for me. When I left home, I made my living as a photographer. I’ve sold a few prints to newspapers, even had one or two shown in art galleries.” Now pride shone from her face.
    She wasn’t proud about every day survival skills — though some would have been — but she was proud of putting images on paper. To him survival was more important than paper pictures. But as Muh’Weda had said, she was a woman. Ev was coming to discover that even for a woman, his Kat was unusual.
    “So why did you leave home?”
    She shuttered her eyes and emptied the dregs of her cup into the fire. “We’ve got days of hard riding before we can start back to Lake Yellow Stone. I’m going to turn in.”
    Ev sat for a while sipping the last of the coffee, thinking over what he’d learned about Kiera Alden. She was a challenge. Prickly as a cactus about everything save her photography. But a cactus was as tender on the inside as it was hard on the outside. He had time to get past the prickers and the hard outer skin. If she was here in the morning. He could stay awake all night and make certain she stayed with him, but he knew he needed the rest. So he dumped his dregs and settled into his bedroll, praying he’d made the right decision to trust Kat.
    Ev found no more opportunities over the next two days to question Kat about her life and uncover the woman beneath the competent outer shell. The trail was harder and the riding more difficult each day. Each night he ate then fell exhausted onto his bedroll. Each morning Kat was right where she said she’d be.
    Late on the third afternoon, she paused until he rode up beside her.
    “Storm’s coming,” she said. “We need to move fast.”
    “Are you