A Promise of Roses Read Online Free

asleep until she felt herself being lifted carefully and just as gently laid down on a rough, threadbare blanket that separated her from the hard floor. She tried to open her eyes to see who was playing the part of a gentleman, but her lids felt like lead weights. With a long sigh, she rolled to her side and pillowed her head on her hands.
    It seemed only a minute later that someone shook her awake. She mumbled an obscenity under her breath at being disturbed, snuggling away from the pest. But the slight pressure on her shoulder persisted, and a harsh whisper sounded in her ear. When she opened her mouth to tell her annoyer where to go, a strong hand clamped over her face.
    "Shut up. I'm taking you out of here, but I don't want to hear a peep. Got it?"
    Megan strained to make out the features of the man who knelt over her, but the room was darker than a tomb.
    Before she could argue, her abductor stuck a strip of cloth into her mouth and tied it behind her head, then wrapped another over her eyes. He warned her again. “Not a sound."
    He lifted her and tossed her over his shoulder. If his threat hadn't sounded so dire, she would have moaned in indignation. Only a minute later, she felt herself being transferred from his shoulder to the seat of a saddle. At least he allowed her the dignity of riding astride rather than slung over the horse like a felled piece of game. But he quickly grabbed her wrists and tied them together on either side of the pommel.
    She listened closely as he went back into the cabin. He returned and lifted her arms at an awkward angle, shoving something heavy and hard beneath them to press against her upper thighs.
    Megan was beyond trying to figure out what was going on. First, five outlaws kidnapped her from her own stagecoach, and now one of them was spiriting her away in the middle of the night. The only thing that kept her from struggling, despite her bonds, was the fact that she felt more capable of escaping from a single captor than from a group of them.
    Megan only wished she knew which one she had to deal with. She couldn't identify his harsh whisper. Evan or Tommy wouldn't intimidate her too much, but the idea of being thrown over Frank's shoulder made her stomach churn. There was no telling what kind of critters crawled through his filthy hair. Or what he might do to her.
    "Take it easy,” she heard. He gave her knee a pat. “I have your horse in hand. You don't need to do anything but hold on and be quiet."
    Leather squeaked as he climbed into his own saddle. Megan lurched backward as they started away from the tiny shack at a slow pace. She listened carefully, and although the horses’ hooves made little noise on the brush of the deep woods, she knew instinctively when they came to a clearing. With her horse urged into a lope, Megan tightened her grip on the saddle horn, feeling unbalanced by the blindfold and heavy box on her lap.
    The first sign that they were nearing civilization came in the form of a tinny, off-key piano and high, feminine laughter. Megan tried to ask about their destination, but the question came out muffled. The man leading her horse brought himself up alongside, so close she felt his leg brush her own.
    "Hush,” he said. “I have some business to take care of, and I need you to be still until I come back."
    But where are you going? she wanted to ask. From the sounds of it, they were nearing a saloon or bawdy house. Megan didn't know of any other establishment that stayed open so late at night or attracted such a rowdy crowd. How did he expect her to just sit here and wait? What if some drunk decided to make her his evening's companion? Megan generally considered herself well able to defend herself, but even she would have trouble with her eyes and mouth covered and her hands tied.
    Lucas brought their mounts to a stop behind the Diablo saloon and swung his leg to dismount. His feet hit the ground with a soft thud. Tethering the horses, he raised his eyes to Megan