Heaven in a Wildflower by Patricia Hagan Read Free Book Online Page A

aware of how ruggedly attractive he was. His arms and chest bulged with muscle, and she tried not to look at the dark mat of hair curling down his lean, flat stomach to disappear below the narrow waistband of his trousers. There was a dark arrogance about him, the rugged contours of his jaw etched with stony determination and unquestionable authority. She wondered how old he was but supposed his years at sea made guessing impossible. There were lines at the corners of his eyes from the wind and sun, which had also left him with a deep, bronze tan. He was, to be sure, a fine figure of a man, and she found him surprisingly appealing. This realization was disconcerting in the wake of rekindled fury. “I don’t need you to teach me anything,” she said, tightly. “Who are you, anyway? You aren’t even called by your Christian name, just some silly sobriquet that means nothing.”
    “It doesn’t?” His brows shot up in mock surprise. “You mean they don’t call me Gator for any reason at all?”
    She shrugged carelessly. “So you wrestled a big alligator and won. Am I supposed to be impressed?” Actually, she was, but had no intention of letting him know it.
    Solemnly he said, “I didn’t ask you to be and don’t care whether you are. It suited me fine when folks started calling me Gator, because it gave me an excuse to forget who I really was. I didn’t like myself very much back then. So I became someone else.”
    “Ah, if life were only that simple,” she said airily, “everyone would just change his name.”
    “Have you ever thought about changing yours?”
    Later, she would wonder why she had shared such an intimacy when she confided, “My father calls me Angel sometimes. I rather like it.”
    With a wry grin, he said, “That’s not a sobriquet. It’s wishful thinking. Anyone with the devil in her eyes is no angel, and you, Miss Sinclair”—he cocked his head and insolently winked—“sure have the devil in yours when you’re riled.”
    She couldn’t help laughing because somehow she sensed he really meant no insult. And she was glad she was not sitting any closer to him, for there was something about his nearness that unnerved, but pleasantly so. “What was it about yourself you didn’t like?” she asked boldly.
    “I did such a good job of putting it all behind me that it’s hard to remember. But you’ve been asking all the questions, and now it’s my turn. Tell me. Why did you want to go into the bayou, anyway?”
    “I like it there.” And it was so. Always she had yearned to experience what it was like deep within the mysterious realm of the swamps but had never ventured there. Perhaps now she dared to find out, knowing in a few months she’d be married and might never have another opportunity. For some reason, however, she wasn’t about to divulge that logic.
    “Well, I meant what I said.” His demeanor became serious once more. “You could’ve got the girls in trouble. I don’t know how much you know about the Acadians’ jobs on the plantation, Miss Sinclair, but good ones aren’t that easy to come by. BelleClair happens to be one of the best places to work. If your father found out Simona and Emalee took you into the Bayou Perot at night, he’d probably ban them from the fields. They’d be hard-pressed to find work elsewhere, and like the rest of us, they need the money to keep from starving this winter.
    “Some of us,” he couldn’t resist reminding her, “weren’t born into a life of wealth and the security that goes with it.”
    Despite his charm when he wished to display it, she realized he could switch moods without warning. She countered, “You obviously hold that against me.”
    “When you jeopardize the livelihood of others to satisfy a whim, yes. We won’t go into the matter of actually endangering lives, because I have to be getting back to the field now.”
    He stood, and Anjele was right behind him. “It wasn’t that way at all. I’ve always envied