“They taught you good,” he muttered.
“I beg your pardon?” She looked down at him.
There was something in his eyes, a hint of what she’d seen in them the night before. It didn’t make her nervous, as she’d been certain it would. It made her yearn.
“The cooking.” Jake put a hand over hers to straighten the pot and-keep the coffee from overflowing the cup. Then he kept it there, feeling the smooth texture of her skin and the surprisingly rapid beating of her pulse. She didn’t back away, or blush, or snatch her hand from his. Instead, she simply looked back at him. The question in her eyes was one he wanted badly to answer.
She moistened her lips but kept her eyes steady.
“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“You take too many chances, Sarah.” Slowly, when he was certain she understood his meaning, he removed his hand.
With her chin up, she returned the pot to the stove. How dare he make her feel like that, then toss it back in her face? “You don’t frighten me, Mr. Redman. If you were going to hurt me, you would have done so by now.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Your kind wears a man down.”
“My kind?” She turned, the light of challenge in her eyes. “Just what kind would that be?”
“The soft kind. The soft, stubborn kind who’s right on the edge of stepping into a man’s arms.”
“You couldn’t be more mistaken.” Her voice was icy now in defense against the blood that had heated at his words. “I haven’t any interest in being in your arms, or any man’s. My only interest at the moment is protecting my property.”
“Could be I’m wrong.” He rocked back in his chair. She was a puzzle, all right, and he’d never known how pleasurable it could be to get a woman’s dander up. “We’ll born find out sooner or later. Meanwhile, just how do you plan to go about protecting this place?”
Not much caring whether he was finished or not she began to stack the plates. “I’m going to alert the sheriff, of course.”
“That’s not going to hurt, but it’s not going to help much, either, if you get more trouble out here. The sheriffs ten miles away.”
“Just what do you suggest?”
He’d already given it some thought, and he had an answer. “If I were you, I’d hire somebody to help out around here. Somebody who can give you a hand with the place, and who knows how to use a gun.”
A thrill sprinted through her. She managed, just barely, to keep her voice disinterested. “Yourself, I suppose.”
He grinned at her. “No, Duchess, I ain’t looking for that kind of job. I was thinking of Lucius.”
Frowning, she began to scrub out the frying pan.
“He drinks.”
“Who doesn’t? Give him a couple of meals and a place to bunk down and he’ll do all right for you. A woman staying out here all alone’s just asking for trouble. Those men who burned your shed last night might’ve done more to you than give you a headache.” His meaning was clear enough, clearer still because she’d thought of that possibility herself. She’d prefer him-though only because she knew he was capable, she assured herself. But she did need someone. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“No perhaps about it. Someone as green as you doesn’t have the sense to do more than die out here.” “I don’t see why you have to insult me.”
“The plain truth’s the plain truth, Duchess.”
Teeth clenched, she banged dishes. “I told you not to-” “I got a question for you,” he said, interrupting her easily. “What would you have done this morning if it hadn’t been me bringing back the horses?”
“I would have defended myself.”
“You ever shot a Henry before?”
She gave him a scandalized look. “Why in the world would I have shot anyone named Henry?”
With a long sigh, he rose. “A Henry rifle, Duchess. That’s what you were pointing at my belt buckle before you fixed my eggs.”
Sarah wiped the pan clean, then set it aside. “No, I haven’t actually fired one, but I can’t imagine it’s that complicated. In any case, I never intended to shoot it.”
“What did you have in mind? Dancing with it?”
She snatched up a plate. “Mr. Redman, I’m growing weary of being an amusement to you. I realize that someone like you thinks nothing of shooting a man dead and walking away. I, however, have been taught-rightfully-that killing is a sin.”
“You’re wrong.” Something in his voice had her turning toward him again. “ Surviving’s never a sin.
It’s all there is.”
“If you believe that, I’m sorry for you.”
He didn’t want her pity. But he did want her to stay alive. Moving over, he took the plates out of her hands. “If you see a snake, are you going to kill it or stand there and let it bite you?”
“That’s entirely different.”
“You might not think it’s so different if you stay out here much longer. Where’s the cartridges for the rifle?”
Wiping her hands on her apron, Sarah glanced at the shelf behind her. Jake took the cartridges down, checked them, then gripped her arm. “Come on. I’ll give you a lesson.”
“I haven’t finished cleaning the dishes.”
“They’ll keep.”
“I never said I wanted lessons,” she told him as he pulled her outside.
“If you’re going to pick up a gun, you ought to know how to use it.” He hefted the rifle and smiled at her. “Unless you’re afraid you can’t learn.” Sarah untied her apron and laid it over the rail. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
Chapter Five
He’d figured a challenge would be the best way to get her cooperation. Sarah marched along beside him, chin up, eyes forward. He didn’t think she knew it, but when she’d held the rifle that morning she’d been prepared to pull the trigger. He wanted to make sure that when she did she hit what she aimed at.
From the rubble of the burned shed, Jake selected a few pieces of charred wood and balanced three of them against a pile of rocks.
“First thing you do is learn how to load it without shooting off your foot.” Jake emptied the rifle’s chamber, then slowly reloaded. “You’ve got to have respect for a weapon, and not go around holding it like you were going to sweep the porch with it.”
To prove his point, he brought the rifle up, sighted in and fired three shots. The three pieces of scrap wood flew backward in unison. “Bullets can do powerful damage to a man,” he told her as he lowered the gun again.
She had to swallow. The sound of gunfire still echoed. “I’m aware of that, Mr. Redman. I have no intention of shooting anyone.”
“Most people don’t wake up in the morning figuring on it.” He went to the rocks again. This time he set up the largest piece of wood. “Unless you’re planning on heading back to Philadelphia real soon, you’d better learn how to use this.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
With a nod, Jake emptied the rifle and handed her the ammo. “Load it.”
She didn’t like the feel of the bullets in her hands. They were cold and smooth. Holding them, she wondered how anyone could use them against another.
Metal against flesh. No, it was inconceivable.
“You going to play with them or put them in the gun?”
Because he was watching her, Sarah kept her face impassive and did as he told her.
He pushed the barrel away from his midsection.
“You’re a quick study.”
It shouldn’t have pleased her, but she felt the corners of her mouth turn up nonetheless. “So I’ve been told.”
Unable to resist, he brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Don’t get cocky.” Stepping behind her, he laid the gun in her hands, then adjusted her arms. “Balance it and get a good grip on it.”
“I am,” she muttered, wishing he wouldn’t stand quite so close. He smelled of leather and sweat, a combination that, for reasons beyond her comprehension, aroused her. One hand was firm on her arm, the other on her shoulder. Hardly a lover’s touch, and yet she felt her system respond as it had never responded to the gentle, flirtatious hand-holding she’d experienced in Philadelphia. She had only to lean back the slightest bit to be pressed close against him.