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The word crawled over Cooper like a loathsome insect. It wasn’t that he was offended by the word. He used far worse on a daily basis. It was that he was offended by the word in connection with Rusty. It didn’t occur to him that only the night before last he’d used it himself. He was too busy hoping that before the day was out, he wouldn’t have to pound Reuben’s face to mush; but if he made many more references to Rusty in that context, he just might.
“If she was my woman—”
“But she isn’t.” Cooper’s voice cracked like a bullwhip.
“She will be, though.”
With that, Reuben, wearing the grin of a madman, spun around and aimed his rifle at Cooper’s chest. Cooper had subconsciously been bracing himself all morning for such an attack. He raised his rifle a split second after Reuben, but Reuben got off the first shot.
“What was that?” Rusty jumped, realizing that she’d been drowsing in her chair.
Quinn was sitting where she’d last seen him, at the table. “Hmm?”
“I thought I heard something.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“I could swear—”
“The logs in the fireplace shifted. That’s all.”
“Oh.” Chagrined by her nervousness, she relaxed again in her chair. “I must have dozed off. How long ago since they left?”
“Not long.”
He got up and moved toward her, kneeling down on the hearth to add logs to the fire. The warmth seeped into Rusty’s skin and her eyes drifted closed again. Sad and dirty as this cabin was, at least it provided a roof over her head and protection from the cold west wind. She was grateful for that. After spending days—
Her eyes popped open at his touch. Quinn, still kneeling in front of her, had his hand folded around her calf. “I thought you might want to prop up your leg again,” he said.
His voice was as gentle as a saint’s, but his eyes were Lucifer’s own as they stared up at her from within their cavelike sockets. Terror gripped her, but common sense warned her not to show it.
“No, thank you. In fact,” she said in a thin voice, “I think I’ll walk around a bit to exercise it.”
She reached for her crutches, but he grabbed them up first. “Let me help you.”
Before she could protest, he caught her arm and pulled her out of the chair. He had caught her off guard and the momentum caused the front of her body to bump against his. She backed away instantly, but found that she couldn’t go far because his other hand was at the small of her back, urging her forward.
“No!”
“I’m only trying to help you,” he said smoothly, obviously enjoying her mounting distress.
“Then please let me go, Mr. Gawrylow. I can manage.”
“Not without help. I’ll take your husband’s place. He told me to take care of you, didn’t he?” He ran his hand over her hip and Rusty went cold with fear.
“Don’t touch me like that.” She tried to squirm away from him but his hands were everywhere. “Get your hands off me.”
“What’s wrong with my hands?” His expression suddenly turned mean. “Aren’t they clean enough for you?”
“No...yes...I...I just meant that Cooper will—”
“Cooper won’t do anything,” he said with a sinister smile. “And from now on I’ll touch you however I want.”
He yanked her against him. This time there was no doubt about his intention. Rusty funneled all her strength into getting away from him. She placed the heels of her hands on his shoulders and arched her back, trying to push herself away and at the same time to dodge his kiss.
The crutches slid out from under her arms and fell to the floor. She had to support herself on her sore leg and a pain shot up the jagged scar. She cried out.
“Go ahead, scream. I won’t mind.” His breath was foul and hot against her face. She turned her head away, but he caught her jaw between iron fingers and pulled it back around. Just before his mouth made contact with hers, they heard thudding footsteps outside.
