Page 29 of Native Hawk
Chapter 9
At least one of Catalina’s prayers was answered. Drew was still wearing his undershirt and drawers.
His eyes were closed. Lying on her side, Catalina could look at him freely now. He was truly beautiful. His profile reminded her of the statues she had seen in Firenze. His nose was noble. His chin was strong. His hair fell across his brow in unruly locks. And his lips…they looked so inviting. She licked her own lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
She sighed softly.
Anne and Emily had told her that whiskey made a person drowsy. She’d already been tired from housework. By now, she should be exhausted. Her eyelids did feel heavy, but not with weariness. She was wide awake. Apparently, having a half-naked man beside her made parts of her wake up in ways she had not expected.
As she watched him, his nostrils flared, and his chest rose and fell with his breathing. What would it be like to feel his breath upon her neck? A warm shiver went through her at the thought.
His hands rested idly atop his chest. His fingers were large, but they seemed refined, not brutal. She wondered what he did for a living.
He had said he was not a gunfighter, though he claimed he was good with a gun. A cowboy or a stagecoach driver might be good with a gun, but they would also have callused hands. His hands seemed to be smooth. A bookkeeper or a lawyer would have smooth hands, but they would probably not carry a gun. And he was a few decades too late to be a gold miner.
As she continued to watch him sleep, she saw him swallow. She wondered if he was dreaming. She wondered if he was dreaming of her.
She sighed again. In the morning he would be gone. At first, she had thought that a good thing. Now she was not so sure.
She liked the half-breed. He was funny. He made her laugh. He was charming. And he was courteous.
The men in Italy were courteous, too, but only because she was the daughter of a nobleman. Here, she was just a woman, yet Drew treated her with kindness and respect. He had expressed concern over her drinking. He had told her she was lovely. And he had kept his word not to touch her.
That last was a pity. At least the tipsy part of her thought so.
She let out another long sigh.
Without opening his eyes, Drew said, “I thought we had an agreement—no snorin’.”
That made her laugh. “That was not snoring,” she said, giving him a chiding rap on the shoulder, absurdly glad he was awake.
“Ow,” he complained, turning his head to glare at her with one eye.“Q’ut!How do you expect me to get any sleep if you’re gonna beat me?”
“Beat you?” She grinned. “I am not beating you.” She clucked her tongue. “You Americans are very soft.”
He didn’t take her bait. “That’s right,” he agreed, turning his head back and closing his eyes. “So be gentle with me.”
She laughed. And then the whiskey and his teasing gave her the courage to do what she shouldn’t. She reached out and tickled his ribs.
He yelped in surprise and grabbed her wrist. “Why, you little…”
Still grinning, she squealed in panic and tried to reclaim her arm. But he was holding it fast.
“Where do you think you’re goin’?” he asked her.
She could only giggle in answer.
“You think you can just fondle a man without his permission?”
“Fondle? What is fondle?”
His eyes narrowed wickedly. “I’d show you, but unlike a certain little Italian lady, I’m a man of honor.”
“A man of honor would let go of me.” She tried to wrest her arm free, to no avail.
“I will…if you promise not to do that again.”
“Do what?” she asked, all innocence. “This?” She used her other hand to attack his ribs again.
