Lady X's Cowboy Read Free Page A

it,” he said with a wry, almost boyish smile. 
    “You are the first to say so,” she answered back smartly, without offense.
    He broke into a wide grin.  “You’re full of pepper.”
    “Is that a good thing?”
    “Ma’am, it’s a great thing.” 
    She felt spellbound, liquid, but intensely aware.  He still held her novel, but she wasn’t prepared to claim it just yet.  She wasn’t completely sure whether everything that was happening—everything that had happened—wasn’t some dream from which she would be roused in a moment by Sarah, her maid, who would pour her some chocolate and give her a stack of the day’s correspondence as morning sunlight filled her bedroom.
    And then the strangest image sprang into her mind.  In her vision, she wasn’t alone in her bed.  The American was there, too, without a scrap of clothing.  Come to think of it, she was naked, too.
    She prayed that he could not read her mind, but she thought she detected the faintest trace of a flush in his tanned cheeks.
    The clatter of carriage wheels broke her reverie.
    “My lady!” Arthur cried.  “I am so terribly sorry to have kept you waiting—”
    “Where the hell have you been?” the American demanded before Olivia could speak.
    Her coachman blinked in astonishment and the footman jumped down.
    “I should haul your ass down from there and beat you five ways ’til Sunday,” the cowboy continued to rant. 
    Arthur shrank back on his post and looked at Olivia with questioning, terrified eyes.
    “Some men tried to accost me,” she explained.
    “They would’ve done a lot worse if I hadn’t shown up,” the American snarled.  “And on account of you,” he pointed an accusatory finger at Arthur, “bein’ too busy polishing your forehead.”
    Arthur gingerly touched a finger to the offending brow.  “The carriage threw a wheel, my lady.  And we could not fix it for love or money.”  He looked extremely upset.  “I will understand if you want my resignation—”
    “Damn right!” the American interrupted.
    “You will not swear in the presence of Lady Xavier,” Arthur insisted haughtily. 
    “I’ll cook up your guts and serve ’em for church supper,” the American shot back.  “With cornbread and greens.”
    “Enough!” Olivia said, stepping forward with outstretched palms.  She first turned to Arthur.  “You ought to have checked the wheel before you left.”  The coachman bowed his head in acknowledgment of his failure.  “Don’t let it happen again.  I was fortunate that Mister...”  She looked at the American, realizing that she didn’t even know his name.
    “Coffin, ma’am,” he supplied.  “Will Coffin.”
    A flutter moved through her throat.  What an unbelievably appropriate name.  “Yes...Mister Coffin.  It was quite fortunate that you happened to come by.  Most providential.”  Everything seemed to be turned upside down.  Cowboys in London.  Impossible.  “And what are you doing here, Mister Coffin?”  It felt nice to say his name, a bit dangerous, sharp and exotic in her mouth.
    “I’m stayin’ across the river,” he said, not fully understanding.  He tilted his head east.  “I think they call it Wapping.”
    “You came here all the way from Wapping?” she asked, amazed.  “That’s quite a distance.”
    “I like to know what I’m dealin’ with when I go to a new place.”  He was so large, so unlike anything or anyone she had ever known, he continued to amaze her.  “I’m in some flophouse they got down by the docks.  I was gettin’ the lay of the land when I heard the doin’s over here and thought I’d see what was what.”
    “I’m very glad you did hear the doings. ”  She smiled at him and she realized that it was one of the first genuine smiles she’d given anyone in a long time.  And she didn’t even know this man.  “I feel I must offer you some kind of reward for your kindness to me.”
    “Reward?”  He frowned.
    She