Warrior in Her Bed Read Free

mean to scare you,” he said, hoping she wasn’t going to faint on him like those fragile ladies of the silver screen. After all, he hadn’t thought to bring along the customary packet of smelling salts employed in those same films to bring the fairer sex back from the brink of hysteria.
    â€œYou didn’t,” Annie responded, keeping her eyes trained upon his.
    It was only partly a lie. As big as this man was, Annie wasn’t in the least afraid of him in any physical sense—other than the way he made her skin itch and her stomach clench in feminine awareness. After being numb for so long, what really scared her was that he made her feel anything at all.
    â€œWould you mind telling me what I’ve done to upset you?” she asked him, ready to put an end to all of his play-acting and get to the bottom of his grievance without further ado.
    What she wasn’t ready for was the lyrical, lilting quality of his voice. The rhythm and cadence were specific to the man’s unique culture. To her ears, it sounded foreign. Exotic.
    And erotic.
    â€œCrimson’s mother thinks you’re to blame for putting wild ideas into her head about leaving the reservation to pursue an art degree in some fancy college in St. Louis.”
    Troubled clouds passed over the clear skies of Annie’s eyes. “I didn’t advance any ideas that weren’t already there,” she told him frankly. “I’m sureyou’re well aware that your niece has remarkable talent. I would assume you’d want to encourage it.”
    Johnny rubbed his chin. The faint fragrance of tuberose and subtle musk from where Annie’s hair had touched his hand lingered upon his fingers and imprinted itself upon his subconscious. Like the woman herself, the scent was intriguing. Obviously strong enough to make her way in the world on her own, there was nonetheless an aura of vulnerability about Annie Wainwright to make a man want to challenge that sense of independence.
    â€œWhen Crimson asked for my opinion, I simply told her that I thought she has what it takes to make it out in the ‘bigger world,’ if that’s what she really wants to do. I hardly see how that could be misconstrued as meddling.”
    â€œLady, in case you don’t know it, just being an outsider working on the reservation makes your motives suspect to a lot of people around here.”
    The very idea confounded Annie. Her forehead wrinkled in consternation. “I’m just here to teach a class. A noncredit, community interest, elective class, at that,” she added defensively.
    â€œAre you sure you aren’t really here to save the Indian nation?”
    The sarcasm dripping from Johnny’s words voice underscored his disdain.
    Caught completely by surprise, Annie replied honestly. “God, no!” I’m having a hard enough time saving myself, she almost blurted out.
    What exactly was it was about her that gave others the impression she was a huge bleeding heart willing to single-handedly rescue the world and ready to accept the blame when it became apparent that shewasn’t up to the task? Annie rubbed her eyes, vainly trying to massage away the headache that was staking out a permanent residence inside her thick skull. Superwoman she was not.
    â€œIt appears that you don’t understand how desperately we need talented young men and women like my niece to remain on the reservation to provide leadership to our people,” Johnny told her, speaking slowly as if he were addressing someone who was mentally challenged. “What we don’t need is foreigners pushing the idea of assimilation at the expense of our native culture. As someone who spent years in the white man’s world, I’m back on the reservation of my own volition to tell you and anybody who’ll listen that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
    Annie threw up her hands in surrender. When she spoke again,