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remain cowering where he'd left her. She was a brave young thing. He'd come to respect courage. These days, he'd little enough himself. |
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Before they got far into the river, the younger man pulled a cloth satchel from one of the piles and tossed it into the water. He hurled a look toward shore that might have been defiance. He did the same with another bag as the craft caught the current and floated downstream. |
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"Your belongings, I presume," Thorn asked the woman. |
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Her uncertainty seemed strange, but perhaps she had been unsure because of the distance. No matter. Still, he could not help goading, "I suppose now that you will say you cannot pay me, with your bags beneath the waters of the Ohio." |
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The glance she tossed to him from those intriguing green eyes appeared startled. "I suppose that's true." Her words were slow, contemplative. "But if I remember correctly . . . " |
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She tilted her head in apparent bewilderment that he could not understand. Her brow furrowed into shallow wrinkles. An urge to smooth them away, to touch her pale cheeks, rocked him, and he nearly gave in to it. Even more, he wanted to pull her into his arms, to wipe away her confusion, to reassure her that all was well. That he would take care of her. |
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No! He fought the inclination with even more vehemence than he had used to rout those scoundrels. These were feelings he could never indulge againnot if he wanted to save himself, and certainly not if he wished to help this woman. |
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For his sanity and her safety, he had to send her on her way. |
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She stopped looking confused. To his surprise, she straightened her shoulders beneath her bedraggled pink gown and planted herself before him. |
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He opened his mouth to order her off, but her next words shook him more than anything else she had yet said. "I'm here for a job, anyway. Mr. Thorn, please hire me to work at your inn." |
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