Marrying Miss Marshal Read Free Page A

composure.
    â€œYou’re a nosy one, aren’t ya?” His irritation with himself made the words sharper than they might normally be.
    Her eyebrows pinched and she looked away fromhim, one side of her face falling into shadow. “Comes with the territory.”
    What did she mean?
    Chas didn’t have time to consider the meaning behind her cryptic words, for she looked back at him with unabashed curiosity, obviously waiting for his answer.
    He used the general answer he’d prepared. “No, I don’t have family here. I’m a businessman.”
    Her eyebrows pinched briefly before her face cleared. “What were you carrying with you? It looked like luggage.”
    He groaned. “A pair of saddlebags.” With his letter of introduction for the local lawman inside. Passing his good hand over his face, he huffed a breath. “I don’t suppose there’s any way we could go back for them…”
    Then another thought occurred. “Do you think they could have survived being trampled?” How much more misfortune could befall him?
    â€œI don’t know if they’ll still be intact. But to be honest, I wasn’t too keen on climbing this hill in the dark.” She motioned behind her. “Even after the moon comes up. We can wait until morning and try to find them.”
    â€œThank you.”
    She got up and went to her horse, untied something from behind the saddle and tossed it to him. A dugan—a bedroll, he’d heard them called.
    â€œSure you don’t need this?” he asked as she pulled another object off the horse.
    â€œI’m sure.” She shook out a slicker, a large one that could have belonged to a man, or at least someone taller and broader than Danna. It made Chas wonder if she belonged to someone else. Was she married?
    Returning to her seat against the taller rock, she swung the coat around her shoulders and tucked it underneath her chin. Her dark eyes met his and he felt a spark sizzle between them before she looked away into the fire.
    What was this? He’d never felt this…connection with anyone else, not even with—
    He spoke quickly to keep the thought from its finish. “Will your husband be out looking for you? I’d hate to fall asleep and wake with a gun in my back.”
    Something flickered across her face, and the smile lingering at the corners of her lips disappeared. “No.”
    â€œA father? Brother? Uncle?”
    Now her mouth flattened into a grim line. She tossed the twig she’d been playing with into the fire and dusted her hands together. “No. No husband, no father. Not anymore.”
    Her words hinted she might’ve been married at one point, but her clenched jaw and closed expression told him it would be best not to continue that line of inquiry.
    Suddenly, she straightened her shoulders and met his gaze head-on. “Where are you from? Back East?”
    â€œMy accent?” he asked with a rueful smile.
    She nodded. “You’re Irish?”
    Intrigued, he leaned forward, resting his elbow on his bent knee. “How did you know?”
    â€œA good guess.” She shrugged, and he followed the motion of her hands as she folded them over one knee. “And I believe your hair is red, as well, although I didn’t get a good look because it was dark.”
    â€œIt is.”
    Another silence fell, this one charged with tension, almost palatable. Chas watched her fidget. Now she fiddled with one of the cuffs of her shirt.
    He wanted to keep talking to her, wanted to know why she dressed as she did, why she was alone out here.
    But he also wanted to protect himself from this tenuous tie they seemed to share. He who always pried for every piece of information from any person he came into contact with—knowing that every detail helped him do his job better—feigned a yawn and rolled himself in the dugan she’d tossed to him earlier.
    â€œThank you