Read Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - WesternWind 01 - Wynd River for Free Online

years younger. “Not in any way you’d want to eat it,” he replied. He nodded
    toward his saddlebags. “There is some hardtack and jerky in there, if you want it.”
    She made a face. “No, thanks. I’d like to keep my teeth as long as I can.” She smiled broadly.
    “They are very worthy teeth, wench,” he said.
    “The better to bite you with, Reaper,” she replied in a harsh tone.
    Snorting at her answer, he walked over to his saddle and lifted it up along with the thick saddle blanket.
    “Briscoe isn’t too far away. We can get something to eat there,” he said, carrying the saddle to his horse.
    Aingeal stood back as he swung the saddle into place and began working and tightening the cinches. She
    reached up to pat the horse’s head. “What’s his name?”
    “Storm,” he said as he went back for his saddlebags and bedroll. “I found him down in a gully during a
    downpour. His hoof was caught between some rocks. If I hadn’t come by, he’d most likely have
    drowned. I set him free and he followed me home.”
    “Storm,” she said, and nuzzled her forehead against the stallion’s. “It fits him.”
    “He’s got a devilish temper,” Cynyr said. He slung the saddlebags over the horse’s back then rolled the
    canvas up and tied it with two leather thongs atop the saddlebags.
    The saddle in place, the Reaper told Aingeal to climb up. “You’ll be more comfortable sitting in front of
    me than behind,” he said as he cupped his hands for her to step up.
    “Aye, and you can fondle me the better, huh?” she said, rolling her eyes. She put her foot in the valley of
    his palms and swung her leg over the beast’s back.
    “Well, that hadn’t occurred to me, wench,” he said as he untied his mount’s reins from a small sapling.
    He climbed up behind her. “But now that you mention it…”
    His hands went to her delightful mounds and he molded them gently, running his thumbs over the erect
    peaks. “Sweet,” he said, before pulling on Storm’s reins and giving the stallion a light kick.
    “I guess I don’t have to worry about my breasts getting cold,” she said with a sigh.

Chapter Three
    Briscoe was a much larger town than Dyersville. It boasted two eating places, two saloons, two
    boarding houses and two mercantile stores. It seemed to Aingeal that it had two of just about everything.
    “Rival competing families,” Cynyr told her. “Makes for interesting bargaining among the locals.”
    “You set a price and I’ll beat it type thing?” she queried.
    “That’s the way of it.”
    Cynyr stopped in front of O’Hare’s Eatery and dismounted. He tied Storm to the hitching post then
    came back to hold his hands up for Aingeal.
    “Well, aren’t you the gentleman?” she asked as she swung her leg over the horse’s neck and braced her
    hands on the Reaper’s shoulders. She leaned into him and slid her body down his as he lowered her to
    the ground.
    “Behave, wench,” he said, but his tone suggested he enjoyed her tactic.
    “I’m so much better when I’m bad,” she whispered, gazing up at him through her long, spiky eyelashes.
    He couldn’t resist swatting her derriere and that surprised the hell out of him. As unaccustomed as he
    was to interacting with women, it seemed altogether too natural to put his hand playfully to her small
    rump. He also found it gave him a funny feeling deep inside his chest and—to some extent—that
    concerned him. This little woman was fast becoming a temptation he both enjoyed and feared.
    “Are you going to stand there all day looking like you could gobble me up or are we going to find me
    some decent food?” Aingeal inquired, one perfectly shaped brow lifted in challenge.
    The Reaper’s lips twitched. “I offered you hardtack and biscuits, wench. You declined.”
    “Humpf,” she said, and pushed past him, stepping up on the boardwalk and heading straight for
    O’Hare’s Eatery.
    Cynyr shook his head and strolled after her, reaching