The Rancher Takes A Bride (The Burnett Brides Book 1)

take that as a compliment coming from a thief like you."
    "I am not a thief," she insisted and then concentrated on trying to remain seated in the saddle and not lean back touching Mr. Burnett. Soon she realized just how impossible that was going to be and relaxed, letting her back rest against his chest.
    The contact of that hard male body had her imagination stirred up like a calico queen on a Saturday night.
    He was tall enough so that she had to look up at him. His wavy dark hair barely graced the edge of his collar, yet the thick strands made her want to curl her fingers around the locks and bring his head down to her mouth. And oh, that full mouth looked tempting. Those lips had the power to suck the strength right out of her limbs and leave her craving more.
    The horse whinnied, but Travis controlled the animal, his over-large hands steering the reins with confidence, making her secure in his ability to manage the beast. Yet she couldn't help but remember those large, callused hands skimming her body, caressing her, leaving behind a trail of molten fire.
    Was she crazy? She hated Travis Burnett with a passion. He was making her life hell, yet the memory of his lips stroking hers left her blood quickening.
    Nevertheless, she couldn't let herself forget Travis thought she was a thief! He despised her and was dragging her back to Fort Worth to get his revenge.
    She wasn't worried. She'd handled tough guys before, only this one was more determined and better looking.
    But why would Mrs. Burnett accuse her of stealing her ring? The lady had been with her the entire time she packed her bag to leave.
    "Are you certain your mother actually said that I took her ring?" Rose questioned, suddenly doubting Travis's story.
    "You were the last person she was with before it disappeared. It has to be you."
    "Cowboy, you're not too bright, are you? Are you certain she just didn't lose the blasted ring? I could be making this trip to Fort Worth for nothing."
    "Miss Severin, I don't care whether you think I have the brains of a jackass. You're going back to Fort Worth."
    "You're wrong. A jackass has more brains."
    "Do you ever shut up?"
    "Does it bother you?" she asked.
    He maneuvered the horse around a large boulder in the road. "No, Miss Severin. I enjoy women who prattle on about everything and say nothing."
    "Mr. Burnett, you have a nasty streak. I should read your palm sometime. Someone with your mouth usually gets silenced early in life. Especially when you're fond of kidnapping women. Have you ever done this before?"
    "Done what? Strangled a woman who couldn't shut up?"
    "No! Taken a woman against her will! Or is this the only way you can get women?"
    "Good women have nothing to fear from me."
    "So I'm not what you would consider a good woman?"
    "Miss Severin, shut up while I still have one ear left."
    "Despicable man!"
    "Mouthy woman!"
    Feeling especially vindictive, she leaned back in his arms and squirmed, settling herself firmly against him. She then proceeded to watch as the last of the sun's rays disappeared behind the western sky. The horse plodded along, and Rose felt her body begin to unwind on the back of the big Appaloosa. Maybe riding a horse wasn't half bad after all. It reminded her of being in a rocker that moved sideways, jolting her up and down.
    A mosquito buzzed around her ear and she reached up and swatted the pesky bug. When she did she almost lost her balance, but Travis's arms tightened around her, protectively. An enveloping sense of security and warmth stole over her, and she fought the feelings with all her strength. She didn't want to have any pleasant emotions for this man. He didn't deserve them.
    Twilight slipped into darkness and still they continued on. "I hate to be the one to mention this, but it's getting dark. Are we going to ride all night, or just to the next inn?"
    "We're not going to spend the night at an inn. We'll camp somewhere just off the trail," he advised calmly.
    "What? Where am I going to sleep? I'm not sleeping on the ground," she said, aggravated more by his calm, quiet attitude than by his words.
    "Then you can sleep standing, and I'll use my bedroll."
    "Don't you think it would be better to keep going until we find an inn or a ranch house willing to let us spend the night?" she questioned, fearing before she asked what the answer would be.
    "No."
    "You know—sheets, blankets, and a pillow? The kind of things civilized people sleep on?"
    "I'll sleep on the ground, and