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

hours but had only been minutes, her right boot touched the earth, and she wanted to shout hallelujah. But instead, when both feet were firmly planted on the ground, she picked up her valise and headed for the gate.
    She was free.
    Quietly running, she rounded the corner of the house, passing the wooden front porch where they had arrived just that afternoon.
    Suddenly a voice called from the darkness, causing her heart to skip a beat.
    "Going somewhere, Miss Severin?"
    With a jolt she came to a halt. Travis Burnett sat in a rocker on the front porch watching her. As blood pounded in her ears, she gazed at the man, her nemesis.
    The urge to scream obscenities at him almost overcame her and she quickly retorted with the few French words she'd learned.
    " Zut alors! "
    "It's a little late for a stroll."
    " Salaud! "
    "There you go again, talking that sexy French talk. You know, it's the time of night that a man doesn't like to be alone. And that French talk is kind of making me excited."
    He stood up from the rocker he was sitting in and came around the porch and down the steps.
    Part of Rose wanted to run. Part of her knew she would be wasting her time, and part of her just wanted to cry. But she wasn't ready to admit defeat, not yet.
    "Hold on, cowboy. Don't be getting any ideas." She took a step back. "Why do you want to keep me? I'm just going to try to escape again. I'm only going to make your life miserable, so why don't you let me go?"
    Travis ran his finger down her cheek. "I'm getting kind of used to you being around. Besides, Mother enjoys your company and there is still that missing ring." He leaned down close to her ear and whispered, "The ring is your key to freedom."
    Rose took the valise that was in her hand and swung it at him. "I don't have the damn ring!"
    The bag smacked him in the chest, causing him to grunt in pain. He grabbed her hand and squeezed until she let go of the bag, tears coming to her eyes.
    "Stop! Stop!" she cried. "You're hurting me."
    She brought her hand up to her face; blood dripped from her fingers.
    "What the hell?"
    For the first time she noticed the rose thorns embedded in the skin of her hand and fingers. Tears ran down her cheeks. But they were tears of sorrow more than pain. Tears of frustration and anger. Tears of just plain tired of being defeated at every turn.
    He grabbed her by the wrist and gently held her hand up in the moonlight. "You're hurt."
    "No kidding, cowboy."
    He pulled her up the steps and opened the door. Quickly he walked through the house to the darkened kitchen, pulling her along. "Sit down and don't you dare make a move to get up."
    She sniffled. She didn't have the energy to move. She'd used her last resources climbing down a rose trellis, for nothing.
    Striking a match, he lit the lantern in the kitchen and then went to a cupboard where he found first- aid supplies.
    Putting the lantern on the kitchen table, he took each of her hands and held them in the lamplight. "Well, I don't think you're going to be holding any more séances for a while. At least not until your hands heal."
    She sniffed. "I don't need my hands to speak with the dead."
    He shook his head and then took out his knife. Slowly and gently, he plucked the thorns from her hand. At times he had to dig into the wound to get the embedded stickers out. Shocked, she sat amazed at how gentle and easy his touch was on her skin.
    "So just where did you think you were going, this time of night?" he asked.
    "I don't know. I kind of thought that once I got away, I would figure it out."
    "Have you ever heard of coyotes or Indians attacking at night? Weren't you concerned for your safety at all?"
    He didn't look up at her, but kept his head bent over his task.
    "Well, I..."
    "We're five miles from town, Miss Severin. Five miles from Fort Worth, the most lawless town in Texas. It isn't safe for a woman in the daytime, let alone at night." He plucked a thorn from beneath her skin. "You best be concerned with both the two- legged and four-legged animals that live around here."
    "Let me assure you that I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for years. It's just that I never— never thought about what I was going to do after I left. I just thought I would make it to town."
    "Not thinking can get you killed." He ran his fingers very gently across her injured skin. "I think I got all the thorns. Can you feel, anymore?"
    She felt lots of things, but it wasn't the thorns. Her hands were stinging from