Outlaw's Angel by Colleen Quinn Read Free Book Online Page A

Marisa could do nothing except follow him to a dark and unclean room. The chamber boasted a fire, small though it was, and a table set with smoking dishes. Food, real food. Forgetting her pride, she fell upon it, opening the cream-colored dishes and revealing pink slices of ham, the perpetual potatoes, some summer vegetables, and even a carafe of wine. The pouch must have contained quite a bit of money, Marisa thought, ignoring Kyle’s mocking smile as she ate. He joined her, and subconsciously he imitated the neat way she held the utensils, making Marisa wonder again about this outlaw. Only now, when they were alone, did she notice him give favor to his injured shoulder. He absently rubbed at the wound, wincing as a fresh spot of blood soaked through the white linen of his shirt. Feeling his eyes on her, she finished the food, placing her fork self-consciously on the table.
    He was drinking wine, filling her glass and admonishing her to join him. Marisa complied, wondering if the wine would make it easier. She hadn’t been able to ignore the bed; it occupied much of the room, reminding her that she was alone with him and completely in his power. Her eyes averted quickly when they met his. Marisa heard his light chuckle as he leaned back in his chair, and she sensed this time of waiting was at its end.
    “Aren’t you going to get out of those wet clothes?”
    Marisa’s head flew up, her green eyes wide. He shrugged and gestured to the fire.
    “I don’t know when you’ll have another chance to get warm and comfortable. You can hang that dress there, on that quilt rack, and it might just dry by morning.”
    Summoning all the dignity she could muster, Marisa pushed away from the table and stood up. The wine made her feel slightly dizzy; she shouldn’t have drunk so much of it so fast. But even as she steadied herself, her hand gripping the chair, she managed to answer him quite coolly.
    “Thank you for your concern, but I’m certain I’ll be quite comfortable. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll just take this chair here and try to get some sleep.”
    His laughter unnerved her. That, and the sound that followed, the click of his trigger as he laid the horse pistol on the table beside him. Casually, he watched her, his eyes never leaving hers. They were fringed by black lashes, pools of sparkling gray.
    “You have a choice,” he said, his voice cool and remote. “You can take off the dress by yourself, or I can assist you. Which do you prefer?”
    Too much wine, Marisa realized. She was unable to think clearly. But she had enough presence of mind to brazen it out. “I am not your whore, and I will not strip for you.” She lifted her chin, returning his stare, her courage weakening when she saw the determined expression he wore.
    “Not for me, but you will for a duke or a lord.” He spoke as if sorting facts for himself. “Then I take it you require help.” He lifted himself from the chair, taking a step toward her.
    “Don’t you come any closer!” Marisa said, panicking. She reached for the gun, made a quick grab for it, and was amazed when she managed to grip the weapon. Balancing the heavy piece in both hands, she aimed it directly at his heart.
    “Dear me,” he grinned, enjoying the spectacle. “Does this mean what I think it does? Delightful family. First your father shoots me, now his daughter. I can’t wait to meet the rest of the Traverses.”
    “Don’t move,” Marisa said, edging toward the door.
    “Believe me, I have no intention of it. I shouldn’t want you to get nervous and blow a hole through me. Especially since I’m your best bet here tonight.”
    “What do you mean?” Marisa paused at the door, the gun precariously weaving at her handsome target.
    He smiled. “I think I explained what sort of company we have below. Do you wish to join them? You may find it more interesting than only myself, it’s true, but you’d discover it difficult to escape, lying on your back.”
    Marisa