Carol Finch Read Online Free

to his feet with the graceful ease of a mountain cat then shrugged casually. “I planned to undress behind your back, but that’s really up to you. If you want to watch—”
    “I certainly do not want to watch!” she loudly objected.
    Shiloh glared at her taunting captor when he jerked the soggy fringed shirt over his head. The sight of his rippling muscles and his washboard belly had her struggling to breathe normally. Damn the man, heknew exactly how physically appealing he was. She cursed her feminine curiosity for conspiring against her, making her appraise every masculine inch of exposed skin.
    Scowling at the ornery devil, Shiloh rolled onto her side and presented her back. She definitely disliked Logan Hawk. No matter what his secret agenda, he was comfortable with his masculinity. He also seemed to delight in ruffling her feathers for sport.
    Blast it, she couldn’t figure out this man. One moment he seemed a dangerous threat and the next instant he was playfully teasing her. His unpredictability made it impossible to guess what he planned to do next.
    “You can look now,” Hawk prompted a few minutes later.
    She twisted around and blinked in surprise as she surveyed his dark breeches, shirt and vest. He had unbraided his long hair and tied it at the nape of his neck. But this more civilized veneer didn’t fool Shiloh one bit. She had witnessed Hawk’s daredevil escape from the desperadoes. She presumed he was at least part Indian, judging by his bronzed skin, high cheekbones, onyx eyes and raven-black hair. He was also an exceptionally skilled rider and capable frontiersman—as well as being about as far from a refined gentleman as he could get. Oddly enough, that was a point in Hawk’s favor—after her disappointing dealings with Antoine Troudeau.
    He was responsible for her loss of humor, her faith in men and her self-confidence. She also questioned her desirability and appeal as a woman now. Shiloh had his duplicity and deceit to thank for that, damn him!
    “Not that I mind you parading around in your skimpy garb,” he remarked, “but I recommend thatyou get dressed, too. This cave is cool and damp. You don’t need to catch a chill while nursing a bullet wound. By the way, I’m sorry you got in the way of a shot that was meant for me.”
    He smiled apologetically and she hated that she was enormously affected by the expression that crinkled his eyes and cut dimples in his stubbled cheeks. She needed to remain on constant alert because men were untrustworthy scoundrels—especially one who took her captive. Yet, there was something about his matter-of-fact manner and sometimes impersonal demeanor that put her at ease. He was nothing like the pretentious aristocrats she’d met in New Orleans.
    When he presented his back so she could dress, she reached into her carpetbag for the one and only set of dry clothes she had with her. She darted a wary glance at Hawk at irregular intervals while she shed her chemise then fastened herself into her blouse and riding breeches.
    The fact that he made no attempt to pounce while she was dressing was another point in his favor. But Shiloh reminded herself that, given their unconventional introduction and this potentially dangerous situation, the jury was still out on Logan Hawk.
    Friend or foe, she didn’t know. She wasn’t going to let her guard down for a single moment until she knew for certain.
    Her thoughts scattered and suspicion settled solidly in her mind when she accidentally knocked one of the saddlebags sideways. It toppled from the pile and several banded stacks of bank notes tumbled onto the stone floor.
    Her eyes rounded, realizing he was a thief! One who was obviously very good with disguises and impersonations. He was a shyster and scoundrel and she was a fool if she lowered her guard around him.
    “You stole this stolen money from your cohorts,” she accused harshly. “Is that why they were shooting at you?” She cursed sourly as she