The grooves on either side of his mouth deepened. “As an escort, nothing more. I’ve just come from St. Louis, so it wasn’t out of my way to stop here in Memphis.” Seeing the shocked look on her face, he added, “At her mother’s request.”
She was deathly pale. “You can’t be,” she said. “There must be some mistake. All the way to Texas with you? But you’re …”
As if reading her thoughts, he said, “Listen, my little paragon, I don’t seduce family members, if that’s what you’re thinking. Even I had a mother. And, believe it or not, unlike you, I have a name.”
“I know who you are, Clint Kincaid.”
He stared at her with an expression that was startled, but difficult to read. “Who the hell are you?” he asked.
“Mourning Howard.”
“Oh, shit.”
It was her turn to smile. He eyed her with amused astonishment and then threw back his head in laughter, but only momentarily. As soon as the skull-splitting pain ricocheted from temple to temple, Clint groaned. “I guess I deserved that,” he said.
“Yes … you did.” The look he was giving her made her uneasy. Mourning bristled, then changed the subject. “You’re early. We didn’t expect you until next week.”
“Finished my business in St. Louis a little ahead of schedule,” he said. Eyes gray as goosedown considered her. So this was Caroline’s daughter. Too bad. She was a real eyeful, but she was family. That made a difference. A big difference.
“Why in God’s name didn’t you tell me who you were?”
“I just did.”
“I mean earlier.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Christ! Now we’ve regressed to platitudes. I don’t think I deserve that,” he said flatly.
Mourning smiled, thinking he deserved anything she decided to throw at him, including the cast-iron skillet and the rolling pin.
Clint’s face darkened. “Are you packed and ready to go?”
A flash of irritation came and went. “I’m packed and ready … but I’m not sure I want to go … at least not all the way to Texas with you.”
“Why is that?” he asked in a blandly curious tone.
“Because I have decided I don’t like you.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he said, “or I might take the time to find out just how true that statement is.”
“You lay one hand on my person again and I’ll …” Mourning couldn’t think of a warning foul enough to threaten him with. Any fool knew the devil wasn’t afraid of anything—except God—and He had been avoiding her a lot lately. She looked around for something to throw.
Clint laughed.
And that made Mourning furious. She jerked her skirt, which gave with a loud rip, and scrambled to her feet.
For an injured man he moved surprisingly fast as he grabbed her wrist. “Don’t be in such a hurry,” he said softly. I know you hate to leave such a romantic setting, but do you suppose you could see to my head? I think I’m in need of a stitch or two.”
“Come into the kitchen,” she said sharply, then yanked her arm free. She turned and hurried from the barn. She stepped lightly across the barnyard to avoid soaking her slippers in the mud. She did not wait for him, the ching, ching, ching of his spurs telling her that Clint Kincaid was following close behind.
About the Author
Virginia Henley is the author of seventeen romantic novels, including the New York Times bestsellers Seduced and Desired and the national bestsellers A Woman of Passion and The Marriage Prize. Her work has been translated into fourteen languages. A recipient of the Romantic Times Lifetime Achievement Award, she lives in St. Petersburg, Florida.
Published by
Dell Publishing
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New York, New York 10036
Copyright © 1988 by Virginia Henley
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eISBN: 978-0-307-56765-9
September 1988
v3.0
Table of Contents
Cover
Other Books By This Author
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
About the Author
Copyright
Virginia Henley, The Hawk and the Dove
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