The Lawman (Historical Western Romance)

Chapter 5

Abigail refused to speak to him all the way back to the house. She was angry with him again. Not that he could blame her. Telling her he'd like to try out the merchandise first hand before marrying her sent her into a tizzy. Add in the fact he'd left her locked up all day and hadn't even made it back in time to grab her lunch and the woman had been fit to be tied. Seeing the basket on the floor by the cot eased his mind though. Someone had remembered she was there. Who that person was left him more curious than it should have. Was it one of the men in town? And if so, which one?

He'd ridden back into town with every intention of discussing this marriage business with her. He still wasn't sure if she was serious about it or not. One minute he thought she was, the next he laughed it off as her just teasing him. But every time he thought of it, he could picture himself married to her. Then reality settled in and he pushed the notion away. What did he need a wife for? Especially one as prickly as this one could be. She was too outspoken, too prone to tantrums. It was hard to tell what she'd do if pushed to it.

He called her name again, only to have her ignore him and quicken her pace.

When they arrived back at his house, Abigail climbed the stairs and went straight to her room, slamming the door behind her. Morgan realized leaving her in the jail all day wasn't the smartest thing he could have ever done. She was mad at him again.

He locked up the house, climbed the stairs in the dark, and walked down the hall to her door. The latch apparently hadn't caught when she slammed it because it wasn't closed now. A small shaft of light illuminated the hallway enough for him to see without falling.

Reaching the door, he pushed it the rest of the way open and wished he wouldn't have. Abigail was in the process of undressing and what little sunlight was streaming through the window was enough for him to see clean through her shift. She turned, saw him standing there, and unlike what most women would have done—scrambled to cover themselves—she propped her hands on her hips and glared at him. He could tell her bravado was tinged with embarrassment. Her neck went all funny with red splotches and her cheeks flushed pink.

"Do you mind?" she asked. "This is my room after all. You don't see me barging into your room seeing you in your drawers, now do you?"

He grinned and leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. "Well, for starters, I wouldn't object to you doing so, although I'm known to not wear my drawers more often than I do, so I can't promise what you'd see. As for minding seeing you like that? Not at all. Continue to undress if you wish."

She huffed out a breath, crossed her arms under those perky little breasts and scowled at him. "What do you want?"

He opened his mouth to answer but found it hard to get a word out. Seeing her standing there with the light coming through her shift was too much of a distraction. He could see her nipples, the dark areolas pressed against the fabric and begging him to cross the room and take them into his mouth right through the cloth. Her shapely thighs drew his eye to the thatch of thick hair between her legs. Damned if just seeing her there didn't cause his cock to throb and make him want to demand she marry him. If he married her she'd be all his. That luscious body his to command every night until the day he died. He almost said as much but then remembered how easy she was to provoke. Being married to her would be the best of heaven and the very worst of hell. Arguing every day until he was ready to just saddle his horse and ride away and loving her every night until he begged her never to leave him. It just wasn't worth the headache.

Focusing his gaze back on her face, he straightened. "I just wanted to apologize to you. I didn't mean to be gone all day. Tomorrow, you're free to go."