Rocky Mountain Romp (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 4)
Page 10
"Stay," he ordered, like she was a dog, and left her kneeling in the dust.
Raising his rifle, he ordered the driver down, and held it on the man, forcing him to carry most of the luggage out into a big pile, until Jesse found the big black box he was looking for: Doyle's safe.
"Just one thing and I'll be on my way," Jesse said cheerfully. He tried picking the lock first, then swapped his rifle for a pistol and took aim. The shot did nothing but make the horses nervous, and both driver and the woman wince.
Grim, Jesse went to his saddlebags, and drew out the stick of dynamite. Halfway through rigging it, Jesse heard a shout.
"Wait!" Hands still bound, the woman struggled to her feet, her neckline flapping. Jesse put his hand on his pistol, but didn't point it at her, even as she rushed at him desperately, her body half bent, her cleavage in serious danger of being exposed.
"Not my trousseau," she shrieked.
"Whoa, little lady." Jesse caught the little miss around the waist when she would rush past him to the luggage, and held her against him.
"Please don't harm my luggage. It's all I have." She looked up at him with eloquent eyes, but it was her body pressed against him that persuaded him.
Jesse grinned down her, noting how, with her corset loosened, she was curved in all the right places. With a gentle hand, he pulled her neckline into place. "Since you ask so nicely, I suppose I could let it alone. Kneel back down, sweetheart."
With a little sob, she did as he said and he felt himself harden further. He liked giving orders to this little wildcat, and watching her turn sweet as a kitten when she wanted something from him. He especially liked it when she was kneeling, her head at just the right height for other entertainment.
Pointing his rifle, he guided the driver to separate the safe from all the other bags, then directed both his captives to stand back while he lit the fuse. The trunk blew open, scraps of paper flying about as Jesse stepped forward to take his treasure. He stacked the gold bars into two saddlebags, and weighted Jordan equally.
Turning to the open-mouthed driver, he tipped his hat at the man. "Much obliged."
"Do you know who you've robbed?" The driver asked. "Silas Doyle, the most dangerous man in the whole territory. His men ride with the Royal Mountain Gang."
"You must be sure to pass on my thanks to him for sending you right past my stakeout. Take care next time you pass through here. There are some really awful men about."
He stalked back to his horse, but couldn't resist detouring near the little lady and offering her a hand up.
Her pretty eyes shot bullets at him, but she allowed him to help her to her feet. As he straightened, he noticed her staring at his ungloved hand and the burn scar marring the skin.
Cursing himself for his carelessness, he cast about for his glove and pulled it on. This was supposed to be a clean job: fly in, rob Doyle and worry his men, and ride off. He didn’t have time to tussle in the dirt with a pretty, brave—if petty and misguided—piece of calico.
Still, he couldn't resist stepping closer to the little chit again and brushing a strand of blond hair off her cheek.
"It's been a pleasure, my beauty, but all too soon we are parted." The little baggage was growing on him, he decided. Her features looked somewhat familiar to him, even twisted with hate.
"I hope they catch you," she spat. "Then you'll hang."
Gripping either arm, he pulled her close, until he could scent the lavender perfume she wore. Her bound hands pushed at his chest, frantic and ineffective, but her face tilted up to look at him enticingly. He bent his head close, so his lips almost touched hers. "Till we meet again, baggage." For a second, her sweet breath warmed his lips, and he was almost tempted to take her mouth, then throw her up over Jordan and ride off.
Instead, he set her away, pleased when she made a little sigh of disappointment. Seems he made an impression on the little baggage. "Enjoy the rest of your trip," he smirked, before turning on his heel, mounting his horse, and riding away.
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