Renegade Wife - By Charlene Sands Page 0,4

of agitation, that caused the fall moments ago. This was a man who held his ground.

He made his approach, towering over her by at least five inches and as he glimpsed her derriere, his lips twitched.

Molly’s fury, the anger she’d saved for this one man, rushed back with full force. She wouldn’t be standing on the street, with a torn skirt exposing her derriere, her belongings scattered about and her dignity in question if he’d been on time to greet her.

“Mr. Jackson,” she said none too gently. “You’re late.”

Chapter Two

“Now, that’s a real good observation.” Kane lifted Molly’s silly feathered hat from the ground and handed it to her. She swiped at it, her eyes sharp, filled with fire.

Kane frowned, releasing a heavy sigh. Molly McGuire was a pretty woman, petite and sweet-looking, with just the right amount of vinegar to keep a man’s boots shined. She’d make someone a fine wife, to be certain. But she’d traveled all this way only to find great disappointment. Kane would blame his grandfather for that. And the sooner he explained to her that there would be no wedding, the better. “Fact is, ma’am, I didn’t know you were coming until late this morning.”

Molly’s chest rose. Her cheeks grew pink. Kane knew women well and this one was no wilting flower. “I wrote you the date and time I was to arrive.”

He shook his head. He had received no such information because it was his grandfather who had corresponded with this young lady, not Kane. “I got no such letter. But we’d best discuss this later, after you’ve had a meal and cleaned up some.”

“I’d prefer to discuss it now.”

“No.”

“No?” Her green eyes gleamed with indignation. “You’re refusing me an explanation?”

“That’s right. For now.”

Kane removed the bandana from his neck and reached around her backside, fitting the material over the tear in her gown. “Hold still,” he said when she jumped back.

“What on earth are you doing?” she asked in a breathless whisper.

Kane had two choices. He could let the young woman walk down the street with her unmentionables showing, certain to entertain the townsfolk, or he could fix the problem. Other than sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her to Mrs. Rose’s boardinghouse, he figured this was the next best solution.

“Saving your dignity, Molly,” he whispered back. “Now, hold still.” He faced her then reached around to fashion the material directly over the tear in her dress. As he came close to lean over her, he caught a whiff of gardenias, the subtle scent wafting up from Molly’s throat. He savored the moment, the unmistakable scent reminding him of another time, a happier time, when he was just a boy, helping his mother tend her garden.

Kane splayed the bandana out fully, his hands wrapping around her and his fingers accidentally brushing the soft curve of one delicately rounded cheek. Molly sucked in her breath and Kane swore silently. He hadn’t been this close to a woman in a long time, and he cursed himself for wanting to touch more of her. His fingers itched to stroke the other cheek, to feel her firm softness through the material of his solid red bandana.

Kane made quick work of tying her up front, twisting a knot at her waist, tugging a bit harder than he had intended. Her body came up hard against his, the silky material of her traveling suit not barrier enough to conceal the feel of her soft breasts crushing into his chest. Kane wrapped his arms around her—to steady her, he told himself.

Molly McGuire stared up at him, lifting her chin, giving him a full view of her face. Her eyes were large, almost too large for such a small face, and the exact color of a spring meadow as morning dew settles on wild grass. Kane glanced at her pert little nose, then at her cheeks, rosy pink in the fading sunlight, but it was her mouth that had caught his full attention. Soft and full, ripe for kissing, Kane thought grimly. Her lips parted slightly, as a quiet “Oh!” whispered out and Kane’s mind wandered down a forbidden path. She felt good against him, damn good, and he thought of all the ways he could pleasure her, of all the ways she might pleasure him.

He bent his head, leaning down, beckoned by a flowery scent and a sweet mouth, but a quick sudden flash pushed through his thoughts. He saw another woman, one who’d been laughing and