Her Dearest Enemy by Elizabeth Lane Read Free Book Online

yourself.” Turning away from her, he tossedthe trousers on the bed and seized a set of long johnsthat lay over the back of a wooden chair. In a seriesof quick motions he thrust his feet into the legs andjerked them up beneath his nightshirt. Harriet felt herchilled flesh growing warm beneath her clothes. Sofar he had not given her so much as an indecentglimpse of his body. But the air of intimacy lay thickand heavy in the shadowed room, dizzying in itspower. She fought the urge to avert her eyes, unmaskingthe falsehood she had told him, leaving herselfexposed and vulnerable.
    “Hurry,” she whispered, and was startled by thehusky timbre of her own voice.
    The trousers came up next, then hastily donnedwool stockings and a pair of heavy brogans beforehe stripped off the flannel nightshirt. For the spaceof a breath he stood bare above the waist, his skinglinting gold in the lamplight, his body spare androck hard, as subtly powerful as a puma’s. A crispdusting of chestnut hair formed a dark inverted trianglebetween the mauve-brown beads of his nipples.Harriet battled the urge to let her eyes trace theshadowed line downward over his flat belly, towhere it disappeared beneath the bunched longjohns at his waist. Her mouth, she realized, hadgone dry.
    He moved swiftly, yanking the top portion of thelong underwear onto his arms and over his shoulders.With scarcely a pause, he bunched the discardedflannel nightshirt in his hand and flung it towardHarriet.
    “Pull it on over your clothes,” he said. “You’llneed an extra layer of warmth, and there’s not muchin this house that will fit you.” When she hesitatedhe added, “It was clean when I put it on tonight. Thisis no time to be fussy.”
    Ignoring the jibe, Harriet slipped out of Brandon’srobe, found the hem of the nightshirt and pulled itover her head. The velvety flannel smelled of lyesoap and clean male flesh. Lingering warmth fromBrandon’s body surrounded her as she pulled itdownward over her frame. He was right about therebeing little to fit her in this house. Jenny was a fairycreature, as dainty as the dolls that decorated herroom. And the length of Brandon’s trousers woulddwarf even Harriet’s Amazonian height. As for theirGerman housekeeper, whom Harriet had seen atchurch, she was as solid as an onion, no higher thanHarriet’s shoulder and almost as round as she was tall.
    Brandon had flung on a thick woolen shirt andwas tucking it into the waist of his pants. He glancedup from fastening his belt, his eyes troubled.
    “I’ve thought on it,” he said, “and I’m not takingyou with me after all. It’s a miserable night, and I’llmake better time on my own.”
    Harriet slipped the robe on over his nightshirt,jerking the sash tight around her slim waist. “If youcatch up with them, you’ll need me there. Thingscould get out of hand—”
    “Out of hand?” His black eyebrows slithered upward.“Don’t be a silly goose! I’m a civilized man.”
    Turning away, he reached into the depths of thewardrobe and pulled out a cartridge belt with along leather holster attached. Harriet felt the colordrain from her face as he buckled the belt aroundhis hips.
    “No.” The word emerged as a hoarse whisper.
    “No?” He shot her a contemptuous look as heopened a hidden drawer in the nightstand and pulledout a hefty Colt revolver.
    “You’re not going after my brother with a gun!” sheinsisted, taking a step toward him. “I won’t have it!”
    “You think I’m going to shoot him?” Brandonswore under his breath. “After what he’s done, yourfool brother isn’t worth the price of a bullet. All Iwant is to get my daughter back, safe and sound, sowe can salvage the mess he’s made of her life.”
    “And if Will has a gun, too?” Fear rose like coldblack sludge in Harriet’s throat. Her brother didn’town a firearm, but he had friends who did. It wouldbe easy enough to borrow a weapon for the night.
    Even now, the awful scenario took shape in