eyes flashed up to his, and he grinned hugely. âThought that would do it. Christ Almighty, youâve got a face, and nothing suits it better than pure orneriness.â
She didnât want him to tell her she was pretty, if thatâs what he was doing. It always made her insides fumble around. âWhy donât you save your breath for getting this carcass up to bleed out?â
Rocking back on his heels, he studied her. âWe can get this whole thing over quick. Just get ourselves married and be done with it.â
Though her hand clenched on the bloody knife, she took three slow, easy breaths. Oh, he was riding her, and she knew heâd like nothing better than to watch her scream and shout and stomp her feet. Instead she angled her head, and her voice was as cool as the water in the nearby stream.
âThereâs about as much chance of that as there is of whatâs left of this bear rearing up and biting you on the ass.â
He rose as she did, circled her wrist with his fingers, and ignored her quick jolt of protest. âI donât want you any more than you want me. I just thought it would be easy on everybody if we got it out of the way. Lifeâs long, Willa,â he said more gently. âA year isnât much.â
âSometimes a dayâs too much. Let go of me, Ben.â Her gaze lifted slowly. âA man who hesitates to listen to a woman with a knife in her hand deserves whatever he gets.â
He could have had the knife out of her hand in three seconds flat, but he decided to leave it where it was. âYouâd like to stick me, wouldnât you?â The fact that he knew it to be true both aroused and irritated him. But then, she usually managed to do both. âGet it through your head: I donât want whatâs yours. And I donât plan on being bartered for more land and more cattle any more than you do.â She went pale at that, and he nodded. âWe know where we stand, Will. Could be Iâll find one of your sisters to my taste, but meanwhile, itâs just business.â
The humiliation of it was as raw as the blood on her hands. âYou son of a bitch.â
He shifted his grip to her knife hand, just in case. âI love you too, sweetheart. Now, Iâll hang the bear. You go wash up.â
âI shot it, I canââ
âA woman who hesitates to listen to a man with a knife in his hand deserves what she gets.â He smiled again, slow and easy. âWhy donât we try to make this business go down smooth for both of us?â
âIt canât.â All the passion and frustration that whirled inside her echoed in the two words. âYou know it canât. How would you take it if you were standing where I am?â
âIâm not,â he said simply. âGo wash the blood off. Weâve got a ways to ride yet today.â
He let her go, crouched again, knowing she was standing over him fighting to regain control. He didnât fully relax until sheâd stomped off toward the stream with his dog happily at her heels. Blowing out a breath, he looked down at the exposed fangs.
âSheâd rather a bite from you than a kind word from me,â he muttered. âGoddamn women.â
While he finished the gruesome task, he admitted to himself that heâd lied. He did want her. The puzzle of it was, the less he wanted to, the more he did.
Â
I T WAS NEARLY AN HOUR BEFORE SHE SPOKE AGAIN . THEY wore sheepskin jackets now against the cold and wind, andthe horses were plodding through nearly a foot of snow, with Charlie happily blazing the trail.
âYou take half the bear meat. Itâs only right,â Willa said.
âIâm obliged.â
âBeing obliged is the problem, isnât it? Neither of us wants to be.â
He understood her, he thought, better than she might like. âSometimes you have to swallow what you canât spit out.â
âAnd