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Page 173
The closed room smelled of horse droppings and sweat.
When she shut the stable door, she inhaled the sweet, smog-free fragrance of the cool wilderness night as she glanced nervously about the compound. All seemed still in the darkness. She hurried toward the inn.
A large shadow suddenly loomed beside her, and she gasped, then managed, "Who is it?"
"What are you doing out here?" asked a familiar, ironhard voice.
"L-looking for a drink of water," she stammered. She should have known. Who but Thorn would creep up on her so silently?
Except, perhaps, an Indian.
"What are you doing?" she asked in return.
"Making sure my guests are safe," he retorted, standing so near her that she could feel his body heat in the cool night air. His large form blocked the moonlight. "My foolish employees, too. Did you not learn that it is perilous to be abroad at night?"
"Yes." She didn't like being called a fool, but she felt like one. "I'm sorry. I'll go back." She turned toward the stable, but a firm hand grasped her upper arm, jolting her with its gentle strength.
He said nothing for a long moment, though she was sure something was on his mind. Finally, he said, "You do not seem the type to fit in at the frontier. Why did you come?"
She considered carefully what to say. "Because I had to. I was drawn here."
A snort escaped from him. "By what? A love of danger? Of building fires and washing clothes? Of being far from the family that pampered you?"
"Pampered?" She hadn't intended to raise her voice, but his scornful tone infuriated her.
She'd been forced here by a total stranger who'd stolen control of her life by means she couldn't begin to comprehend.
She'd been given glimpses of the existence she'd fallen into, Matilda's, but she remained off balance, since nothing was as she anticipated.

 
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