The Complete Mackenzie Collection Read Free

passed one arm behind her knees and the other behind her back, and lifted her as he would a child, ignoring her gasp. As he carried her to the truck, he reflected that she didn’t weigh much more than a child. He saw a flash of startled blue eyes behind the lenses of her glasses; then her arm passed around his neck and she was holding him in a convulsive grip, as if she were afraid he’d drop her.
    He shifted her weight so he could open the passenger door and deposited her on the seat, then briskly wiped the snow from her feet and legs as well as he could. He heard her gasp again, but didn’t look up. When he had finished, he dusted the snow from his gloves and went around to climb behind the wheel.
    “How long have you been walking?” he muttered reluctantly.
    Mary started. She hadn’t expected his voice to be so deep that it almost reverberated. Her glasses had fogged from the truck’s heat, and she snatched them off, feeling her cold cheeks prickle as blood rushed to them. “I…not long,” she stammered. “About fifteen minutes. I blew a water hose. That is, my car did.”
    Wolf glanced at her in time to see her hastily lower her eyes again and noticed her pinkened cheeks. Good, she was getting warm. She was flustered; he could see it in the way she kept twisting her fingers together. Did she think he was going to throw her down on the seat and rape her? After all, he was a renegade Indian, and capable of anything. Then again, the way she looked, maybe this was the most excitement she’d ever had.
    They hadn’t been far from the ranch house and reached it in a few minutes. Wolf parked close to the kitchen door and got out; he circled the truck and reached the passenger door just as she opened it and began to slid down. “Forget it,” he said, and lifted her again. Her sliding motion had made her skirt ride halfway up her thighs. She hastily pushed the fabric down, but not before his black eyes had examined her slim legs, and the color deepened in her cheeks.
    The warmth of the house enfolded her, and she inhaled with relief, hardly noticing as he turned a wooden chair away from the table and placed her on it. Without speaking he turned on the hot water tap and let it run, then filled a dishpan, frequently checking the water and adjusting the temperature.
    Well, she had reached her destination, and though she hadn’t accomplished her arrival in quite the manner she had intended, she might as well get to the purpose of her visit. “I’m Mary Potter, the new schoolteacher.”
    “I know,” he said briefly.
    Her eyes widened as she stared at his broad back. “You know?”
    “Not many strangers around.”
    She realized that he hadn’t introduced himself and was suddenly unsure. Was she even at the right place? “Are…are you Mr. Mackenzie?”
    He glanced over his shoulder at her, and she noticed that his eyes were as black as night. “I’m Wolf Mackenzie.”
    She was instantly diverted. “I suppose you know your name is uncommon. It’s Old English—”
    “No,” he said, turning around with the dishpan in his hands. He placed it on the floor beside her feet. “It’s Indian.”
    She blinked. “Indian?” She felt incredibly stupid. She should have guessed, given the blackness of his hair and eyes, and the bronze of his skin, but she hadn’t. Most of the men in Ruth had weathered skin, and she had simply thought him darker than the others. Then she frowned at him and said in a positive tone, “Mackenzie isn’t an Indian name.”
    He frowned back at her. “Scottish.”
    “Oh. Are you a half-breed?”
    She asked the question with the same unconsciousness as if she had been asking directions, silky brows lifted inquiringly over her blue eyes. It set his teeth on edge. “Yeah,” he grunted. There was something so irritating about the primness of her expression that he wanted to shock her out of her prissiness. Then he noticed the shivers shaking her body, and he pushed his irritation aside, at