A Most Inconvenient Marriage by Regina Jennings Read Free Book Online

Instead, everything appeared hazy, making it unclear where undergrowth ended and where darkness began. Abigail caught herself straining to peer into deep crevices, wondering if they were truly caves or merely overhangs. There could be any number of eyes watching from the craggy dens—animals or men. She remembered Dr. Hopkins’s warning. She shouldn’t stray too far from home.
    The road swerved around a boulder. The passage narrowed, a dangerous turn for a buggy. Abigail was just thinking how she’d have to remember to slow here when she stepped into the sight of a man standing in the road.
    With one hand on his pommel and one hand grasping the back of his saddle, he froze when he saw her. The horse shifted toward him, and he did an odd hop backwards to keep from being bumped. Turning back to his horse he tried to pull himself up by the pommel without putting his foot in the stirrup. Uncomfortable with the off-center weight, the horse stumbled to the side again, causing him to slide back down.
    He landed easily on one foot, but the other never touched the ground. Obviously he was favoring it. Abigail saw his difficulty. His leg had drawn up short and wouldn’t hold his weight. The horse would have to stand still for him to mount.
    Was he dangerous? Possibly, but as of yet the fabled bushwhackers and jayhawkers sounded more like the bogeymen of her youth. This man showed no interest in her, wasn’t mounted, and definitely couldn’t run. She approached cautiously, compassion overriding her fear.
    “I’ll hold her for you.” She smiled to ease his embarrassment.
    He dipped his head, only showing her the top of his hat. “If she’d stand still I could do it myself. I just wanted to test my leg before I got home. My family doesn’t know . . .”
    Abigail snagged the reins and rubbed the nag’s nose. How many of her patients were still on the road home, heading to a future fraught with similar difficulties? “Your horse looks tired—like she’s traveled hard. No doubt you could both use a stretch after being on the road all day.” Once she had control of the horse, she nodded to him. This attempt was successful, graceful even. His chest filled once he was in place, the embarrassment of his condition vanishing on horseback. Had she not seen his struggle, she would’ve never guessed that he’d dealt with any weakness—besides pride, perhaps.
    “Thank you for your help.” Only seated would he face her, his strong features direct and honest, if not necessarily patient. His dark brows framed piercing eyes. His nose—well, if she was being kind she’d call it senatorial.
    He shook the reins, reminding her to release them and stop staring at him. She felt her face warm. Had she been in the mountains so long she’d forgotten how to act around a gentleman? Without a word she stepped aside, allowing him to move forward. After a few steps he turned.
    “It’s getting dark. How far a piece do you have to go?”
    Abigail touched her hair, suddenly wishing she had it up properly instead of hanging down in a braid. “Not far at all. This is my home.” She gestured to the mountain wall on her left.
    He looked around as if to assure himself of his surroundings, and then his penetrating gaze settled on her again.
    This time his voice was rough. “Do the Calhouns not live here anymore?”
    “They do. Are you a neighbor?”
    His laugh was mirthless. “I’m no neighbor. I’m Jeremiah Calhoun, and I’d like to know what claim you have on my farm.”

    He’d never met her before, that was certain. Jeremiah wouldn’t have forgotten the willowy blonde frowning at him. She kept staring, but this time instead of gazing at his face, she looked at his hands. Squaring her shoulders she seemed to come to a conclusion.
    “You are a liar.” Her voice echoed off the stony bluff. “Jeremiah Calhoun is dead.”
    Jeremiah’s throat tightened. Ever since he’d seen his name listed with the casualties in the prison register,