“Wench, I never say anything I’m not serious
about.” He thought about that for a moment. “Well, almost never.”
She came around the foot of the bed as he bent over to tie his holster in place. “And
you were serious about keeping me as your woman?”
He nodded. “Aye, I was damned serious.” He straightened to find her holding his
hat out to him. He took the cowboy hat in his left hand then stepped closer to her,
putting the palm of his right hand against her cheek. “You are under my protection,
wench.” His thumb stroked over her bottom lip. “You belong to me.”
Lea was looking into his amber eyes and what she saw there made her womb
tighten. It was an honor he had extended to her that only a very few women on Terra
would ever know.
“You honor me, milord,” she said, her heart soaring.
He slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her face up to him, lowering his lips to
hers in a soft, gentle kiss that made her toes curl in her worn-down boots.
“The honor is mine, milady,” he whispered against her mouth.
Lea slid her arms around his waist, stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his,
kissing him firmly. When she pulled back, she could tell she had shocked him for his
eyes had widened. “You will be very careful, won’t you, Milord Bevyn?” she asked.
27
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
“Aye,” he said.
“And you will hurry home to your woman?”
“I will,” he vowed.
She removed her arms from him and stepped back. “All right then,” she said with a
smile. “Be careful out there, okay?”
Bevyn backed away from her, unable to speak past the lump that had suddenly
formed in his throat. He was unaware that he was rotating his hat around and around
in his hands until she stepped forward and stilled the movement.
“It goes on your head, milord,” she said with a grin.
“Aye,” he said, grasping the black felt at the crown and settling it on his head,
tugging the brim down as was his custom.
She reached for his saddlebags hanging over the footboard of the bed and held
them out to him. “You have everything?” she asked.
“Aye, milady,” he said softly.
Lea stepped back. “May the Wind be always at your back, milord.”
Bevyn’s throat clogged with emotion and he turned abruptly away before he
unmanned himself before her. His eyes were stinging as he thundered down the stairs,
needing to put distance between him and the beautiful woman to whom he knew he’d
already lost his heart.
The sheriff was waiting in front of the saloon when the Reaper came out. “Don’t
worry about nothing, milord,” he told Bevyn. “I’ll take good care of your lady.”
Bevyn inclined his head as he took the reins and vaulted into the saddle. “I’ve a
favor to ask of you, Sheriff,” he said.
“Anything, milord. Just name it.”
“Find me some land within the scope of the town’s limits onto which I can build
our home,” he said. “An acre will do.”
“I will see to it, milord,” the sheriff agreed.
“And assemble some men to construct the place for us. Ask my lady to tell them
what she desires our home to be. No expense is to be spared in the building of it.
Understood?”
“Aye, milord!”
“You watch over her for me, Sheriff,” the Reaper instructed. He dug his heels into
Préachán’s flanks and the black stallion took off like a bat out of hell.
“I will guard her with my life,” Buford Gilchrist swore to the departing warrior.
By the time the sun set on Orson, every man, woman and child in town was abuzz
with the news that they had garnered their very own Reaper. It was an honor they all
took to heart.
* * * * *
28
Her Reaper’s Arms
As Bevyn’s mount galloped over the dusty road, he kept going back to the
conversation with the sheriff.
Our home , he had said.
A place for us.
My lady.
The Reaper’s heart did a tight little squeeze in his chest. He had never had his own
home, his own place. He had never owned anything save