A Bride for Dry Creek Read Online Free Page A

were visible. From the sounds beneath the horse’s hoofs, the rest of the ground was covered with dried pine needles.
    The saddle creaked as Flint stood to dismount.
    Francis braced herself. She’d been trained to cope with hostage situations in her job and knew a person was supposed to cooperate with the kidnapper. But surely that didn’t apply to criminals one knew. She and this particular criminal had slow danced together. He couldn’t shoot her.
    She’d already decided to wait her chance and escape. She had a plan. Flint had made a mistake inputting the mittens on her. The wool of the mittens kept the cord from gripping her wrists tightly. When Flint stepped down on the ground, she would loosen the tie on her wrists, swing her body around and nudge that horse of his into as much of a gallop as the poor thing could handle.
    Flint stepped down.
    The horse whinnied in protest.
    â€œWhat the—” Flint turned and started to swear.
    Francis had her leg caught around the horn of the saddle. She’d almost made the turn. But almost wasn’t enough. She was hanging, with one leg behind the back of the saddle and one hooked around the horn. She’d ripped the skirt of her ruby sheath dress and all she’d accomplished was a change of view. Her face was no longer looking at the ground. Instead, she was looking straight into the astonished eyes of Flint L. Harris.
    Francis groaned into her gag. She’d also twisted a muscle in her leg.
    And she’d spooked the horse. The poor thing was prancing like a boxer. Each move of the beast’s hooves sent a new pain through Francis’s leg.
    â€œEasy, Honey,” Flint said soothingly as he reached out to touch the horse.
    Francis saw his hands in the dark. His rhythm was steady, and he stroked the animal until she had quieted.
    â€œAtta girl.” Flint gave the horse one last long stroke.
    Flint almost swore again. They should outlaw high heels. How was a man supposed to keep his mind on excitable horses and bad guys when right there—just a half arm’s length away—was a dainty ankle in a strappy red high heel? Not to mention a leg that showed all the way up to the thigh because of the tear in that red dress. He was glad it was dark. He hoped Francis couldn’t see in his eyes the thoughts that his mind was thinking.
    â€œShe’ll be quiet now.” Flint continued speaking slow and calm for the horse’s benefit. “But she spooks easy. Try to stay still.”
    Even in the darkness inside the pine grove he could see the delicate lines of Francis’s face behind the gag. Her jaw was clenched tight. He hadn’t realized—
    â€œI know it’s not easy,” he added softly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
    A muffled protest came from behind the gag.
    Francis had worn her dark hair loose, and it spilled into his hands when he reached up to untie the gag. Flint’s hands were cold, and her hair whispered across them like a warm summer breeze. He couldn’t resist lingering a moment longer than necessary inside the warmth of her hair.
    â€œIt’s not how I meant to say hello again,” Flint said as he untied the bandanna. And it was true.What he’d say when he met Francis again had gone from being a torture to a favorite game with him over the years. None of his fantasies of the moment had involved her looking at him with eyes wide with fear.
    â€œDon’t pretend you ever meant to see me again.” Francis spit the words out when the gag was finally gone. Her voice was rusty and bitter even to her own ears. “Not that it matters,” she quickly lied. “I—”
    Francis stopped. She almost wished she had the gag in her mouth.
    â€œThat was a long time ago,” Francis finally managed.
    â€œYes, it was,” Flint agreed as he finished unraveling the cord he’d used to tie Francis’s hands behind her. It might seem like a