Heroes of Heartbreak Creek 02 Read Online Free Page B

had choices. He had simply made the wrong ones.
    Pems. Dear heaven.
The stallion and Jamie were the greatest joys in her life. “But he’s still recovering from his injury. He’s not ready.”
    “He looks sound enough. That’s all that matters. Now you’ll be nice, daughter,” he warned as they reached the landing. “He’s an earl now, and wealthy. You’ll paint him a fine picture so he’ll buy our horses at a dear price. It’s either that, or Huddleston, or putting on a grand smile for Mr. Calhoun.”
    Josephine wanted to scream at him.
I’m not a whore! I never was, nor will I be one for you!
Instead, she struggled to keep her voice bland, knowing a show of temper would only make him more truculent.
    “Father, please—”
    “We’ll speak of it no more, girl. Smile. Good evening, Captain,” he said in a jovial voice to the uniformed man approaching them. “Hope we’re not late.”
    “Not at all, Mr. Cathcart. Miss Cathcart. Welcome.”
    Numbly, Josephine nodded to the ship’s captain and the other diners staring back at her over the sumptuous table. She saw an empty place no doubt saved for her. On one side, rising at her approach, was a well-favored man with deep brown eyes and a knowing smile that sent prickles of awareness up her spine. On the other stood a tall, stern-faced man with eyes as expressionless as polished blue steel. Across the table, standing beside another empty chair, was a green-eyed man who looked vaguely familiar, except now he had gray hair and a beautiful woman at his side, who greeted Josephine with a bright welcoming smile.
    She felt like vomiting.
     • • • 
    She would have drawn Rafe’s eye in any case. He might have been celibate throughout his long recovery, but he wasn’t dead, and he enjoyed looking at attractive women.
    But it wasn’t her fine features, or the richness of her deep brown hair, or the two bright spots of color on her otherwise ashen face that caught his attention. It wasn’t even her surprising height.
    It was her eyes—one brown, the other half-brown and half-blue, as if in infancy they had started to change, then had stopped partway through—and the emotion he saw reflected there.
    Memories sent his mind spiraling.
    He had seen that look before—in startled babies, trapped animals, in a doe bleeding on the ground, watching the hunter approach. And a year ago, in that instant before she turned to flee, he had seen it in Miranda’s honey-colored eyes.
    Utter panic.
    He stood frozen until Ash’s cough broke the hold of the past. Clumsily, he nodded in welcome as the newcomers were introduced. Seeing the woman come around to the open seat beside his, he reached down to pull out her chair, but saw that the fellow seated on her left had beaten him to it. He pasted on a smile to cover his confusion.
    She didn’t even look at him, but sank stiffly into the chair, her face so lacking in animation, it seemed carved from stone.
    While introductions continued around the table, Rafe struggled to corral his scattered thoughts. It was disconcerting that after he’d blocked that memory for almost a year, a chance expression on another woman’s face should send it bursting into his mind. He looked around, wondering if anyone had noticed his discomfiture, and saw Thomas, seated diagonally at the other end of the table, watching him.
    As usual, the Cheyenne’s face revealed nothing of his thoughts, and folding his arms across his broad chest he resumed staring straight ahead, obviously having no interest in the goings-on around him.
    “Excuse me,” a soft voice in a British accent murmured.
    Rafe turned to see Miss Cathcart looking past him at Thomas. “Is that man an American Indian?”
    Rafe was glad to see that the frantic look was gone from her eyes, although her expression of weary defeat wasn’t much of an improvement. “Yes. He’s a Cheyenne Dog Soldier. Or was.”
    “Is he dangerous?”
    Rafe wasn’t certain how to answer. In Heartbreak