The Fortune Read Free Page A

me?”
    “I can rinse the shit out of your hair, unless you want to join me in the creek.” He raised one brow, a challenge in his gaze.
    Frankie thought about jumping in the creek with him and taking him up on his challenge. To free herself from the societal rules that governed her and throw caution to the wind. For once escape what was expected, what she had to do, and do what she wanted. John Malloy was dangerous, more than she initially thought.
    “Much as I think you would like that, I cannot join you in the creek. What you see before you is my wardrobe. I can only hope this dress comes clean so that I may wear both of them again.” She had to be practical. Throwing away her reputation on the wagon train, and possibly her future, to frolic in a creek with a big stranger would be beyond foolish.  
    “What about your hair? Do you want help or not?”  
    Frankie stared into his blue eyes and thought of all the reasons she should say no, of the fact she could ask one of her sisters to help, and of the chastisement she would receive from her mother. A tiny voice inside her whispered of dark secrets and decisions she could not undo.
    In the end, Frankie chose the practical path.
    “ Oui , I need your assistance, si vous plais .”

Chapter Two
    John could hardly believe his ears. Frankie, the spunky little thing, wanted him to help her wash her hair. He didn’t know whether to laugh or kiss her, because sure as hell he’d wanted to kiss her since she landed in the mud under him. Those flashing green eyes, that heart-shaped face, the soft, pillowy breasts that made his hands itch. She was sin incarnate, even covered in mud.
    Now here she sat on the bank of the frigid creek, her hair undone. Although muddy, she had gorgeous hair, thick and wavy with the colors of sunset sparkling in the early morning sun. He’d be a fool to touch her.
    John was obviously a complete fool.
    “Then come closer and lean forward.”
    She did as she was bade, coming close enough he could see the small hairs at the nape of her neck, tiny wisps that moved slightly in the breeze. He wanted to kiss them, breathe in the scent of Frankie, then kiss his way across the pink shell of her ear, her jaw, until he reached the full, ruby lips. Damn. He needed to adjust his dick as it grew several inches from looking at her shit-covered hair. He wasn’t one to get caught up in a woman’s looks, but something about this little French woman set his blood to boil.
    John scooped up water with his hands, running it through her hair, working out the clumps of mud. Her hair was at least three feet long, rich and thick. He could well imagine what it would feel like clean and spread across the sheets.
    Damn, but he’d been too long without a woman. He did not need to get involved with any of the folks from the wagon train, especially virginal young ladies.
    “My neck is beginning to cramp.” She knew how to complain, that was for sure.
    “I got the clumps out. Let me give it a good scrub.”  
    Her head felt so tiny in his hands, in contrast to the heavy hair she carried. He scrubbed at her scalp until her hair fairly squeaked. Then he kept at it a few minutes more, feeling perverse at keeping her on her knees in front of him. A lesser man would make a crude remark, but he kept his tongue. For a reason he couldn’t name, he liked her.
    “I would like to stand now, monsieur .”  
    He chuckled and squeezed as much water from her hair as he could. “There you go, Frankie. Now toss me your dress and I’ll see what I can do.”
    She swung her hair to the right, which made a slap as it hit her back. Without the cloud of hair, Frankie looked damn young, vulnerable. Then she opened her mouth and the illusion was broken.
    “I do not believe I am the first woman to hear you say that.” She raised both brows. “Do you have experience as a laundress?”
    “I’ve had to wash my own duds for years. I’m sure I can manage to get your frock clean.” He held