Stranger in Camelot by Deborah Smith Read Free Book Online

hands, holding them firmly. Because he didn’t stalk away with masculine arrogance, he made her even sorrier she’d upset him.
    “Women have more to lose,” she countered, jerking his hands a little.
    “Nonsense. Don’t play feminine games, and I won’t play masculine ones. Your accusation was directed straight at me. Admit it.”
    She trembled. “Okay. You say I’m unique. Well, I say you’re unique. I don’t know how to deal with you. If I’m suspicious and mean, it’s because you scare the hell out of me.”
    “Good enough. That announces the problem boldly, and I approve. Be frightened of me, if you must, but don’t accuse me of sins I’ve never committed.”
    “Let’s pretend this kiss didn’t happen. And I apologize for my ugly attitude. Good enough? Now we’re back where we started—two strangers who don’t have as much in common as you think. But you’re a nice man. I mean that.”
    “Nice” was an understatement. She moved back and squeezed his hands to signal that she wanted him to release her. His expression somber, he opened his fingers and let her hands slip away. His dignity gave him power and made her feel foolish. “We have a greatdeal in common, Agnes. And if you think I can forget the feel of you in my arms or the sweetness of your mouth, you sadly underestimate yourself. Even if it was centuries ago that I’d kissed you, I’d still remember how lovely it was.”
    Her knees turned to rubber. Something was going on here that she didn’t understand. I could have kissed you centuries ago .
    “Thank you for the compliment,” she said weakly. “Now if you don’t mind, I have horses to feed, if I can find them.”
    He nodded. “Practical matters first. Yes, you’re right.”
    As they hunted for the mares she covered her troubled thoughts by telling him the horses’ bloodlines and the cost of breeding each to a quality stallion. Her grandfather had worked for decades to build up his stock, and with enough hard work of her own, Aggie hoped to make the little ranch a big name among quarter-horse patrons.
    John asked pleasant questions and acted as though the scene in the pasture had never occurred. Aggie knew she’d never forget it.
    As they rounded the peninsula of forest that hid the rest of the pasture from view, John suddenly grasped her arm. Aggie whirled toward him, ready to fight another of his invasions on her common sense.
    But his face was grim, and he pointed toward a distant stretch of fence. The solitary oak that had been a favorite shade spot for Hamilton livestock over the years now lay in the jumble of boards and hog wire that had been a good thirty-foot section of fence.
    “This explains why the mares didn’t come up this morning,” he noted.
    Aggie groaned. She suspected where the mares had gone, and she knew she was going to need John’s help to get them back.
    She needed him too much now.

Three
    Okay, there were good reasons to have John Bartholomew around, Aggie admitted. The man could probably charm sand crabs out of the sand. With any luck, he’d make Ida Roberts act nearly human. On the other hand, if Ida was as cranky as ever, she would at least divert Aggie’s attention from the awkward problem of having John Bartholomew around.
    She steered her truck down a two-lane road bordered by gnarled live oaks and scrub pine. John seemed to relish this new opportunity to make himself indispensable. His patience was seductive.
    “I can’t imagine why this lady would dislike you,” he said abruptly, as if he’d been pondering the question for some time. He had his head up and his eyes half shut. The wind ruffled his thick, chocolate-colored hair. He looked content. “You don’t seem to dislike her. And you’re very good-natured.”
    “You weren’t thinking that back in the pasture.”
    “I was thinking that you’re too cautious, but that’s no crime. Even if it’s misdirected, in my case.”
    “We met less than twenty-four hours ago. I think