Read Online Christine Dorsey - [MacQuaid 02] by My Heavenly Heart - Free Book Online Page A

naturally slender, had grown thinner still since her death, her ball gown would not fit about her waist unless she wore the corset.
    Her gaze strayed to the door again. She could hear him outside. The steady thump, thump of his axe. What to do. She’d never dressed herself before, and it appeared she could not now.
    With a determined step she marched to the door and pulled the latch. “Mr. MacQuaid.” He didn’t respond the first time she called, though the dog who was sleeping in a puddle of sunshine lifted his head. “Mr. MacQuaid!”
    The axe bit into the chopping block with enough force to make Rachel think he’d heard her quite well the first time.
    He turned, backhanding the sweat from his forehead as he did. “What do you want now?”
    Rachel’s lips thinned. He could be so... She couldn’t even think of a word to describe him. Did she have to ask? Couldn’t he tell what the problem was? But no, he just stood there his legs spread, hands on narrow hips and glared at her. He didn’t even have the decency to pull his shirt back on. His chest was broad and covered by a wedge of curly black hair and Rachel jerked her gaze away when she realized she was staring.
    “I can’t lace my corset.”
    He reached for the axe handle, giving it a hard tug. “Don’t wear the tortuous thing.”
    “I must. Without it my gown won’t fit.”
    “Hell and damnation,” he growled before swinging the axe back into the wood. “Turn around.” Logan grabbed the laces none too gently and studied the double row of silk-edged holes.
    “I believe the thread is to be laced through in a crisscross manner, though I must admit I’ve never done it.”
    “I can see what needs doing. Just stand still.”
    “As you wish, sir.” Rachel reached out to steady herself against the log wall. She tried to do as he said, but each time his knuckles skimmed across her thin shift her body gave a little jerk. She couldn’t seem to help herself. She could smell his musky scent, feel the heat from his body. Gooseflesh crept down her arms and she had to concentrate on breathing.
    For his part Logan could hardly keep himself from reaching around and cupping the breasts that pushed up from under the corset. His fingers felt thick and inept as he forced the ribband through a tiny hole. His hand brushed her skin and for a heartbeat he paused, only to begin again, jerking the laces through the eyelets with a vengeance.
    “Don’t break the thread. It’s the only one I have.”
    “Excuse me Your Highness. I’ve had sore little practice playing the lady’s maid.”
    “You needn’t snap at me.”
    That’s where she was wrong. It was either snap or throw her down on the ground and bury himself inside her royal body. And wouldn’t the high and mighty Princess just love that? Of course she wasn’t the only one who’d deplore his actions. Once his seed was spilled Logan knew he would regret having touched her. No, better to concentrate on what the hell he was doing and get it done.
    “Tie it off. No, pull it tighter first.”
    “Would you make up your mind!”
    “Pull.” Rachel sucked in her breath. “Yes, that’s it. No, why did you let it go?” When she received no answer, Rachel turned. Standing in the clearing was the savage who’d visited earlier. Beside him stood an old man with long white hair. She glanced up at Logan MacQuaid and could swear he blushed beneath his heavy growth of whiskers.

Chapter Four

    “The soul is unwillingly deprived of truth.”
    — Epictetus
    Discourses
    “Lone Dove.” Logan realized he still held the laces of Rachel’s corset and let them slip through his fingers. At the same time he stepped in front of her, though he knew both Swift Fox and the Cherokee Adawehis had seen her... had seen what he was doing. “I am honored you have visited my home.”
    Hell, Lone Dove must be near four score. Logan assumed this Adawehis never left the Cherokee town of Cheoah. Lone Dove was their conjurer, a holy man to