Read Keegan's Lady for Free Online

cost of his bull, but for his projected losses next year. She and Patrick would even sell the ranch, if necessary, to get their hands on the funds. Losing everything they owned was preferable to seeing her brother killed.
    Keegan was clearly not thinking along the same lines.
    "I asked you a question, Miss O'Shannessy. Anything?" he repeated with a frightening softness.
    Caitlin knew exactly what he was suggesting, and everything within her cried out with revulsion. Wanting to scream, she released her grip on his boots, sat back, and curled her hands over her bent knees, digging in hard with her fingernails. The pain provided a tenuous link with reality while her mind was a jumble of horror.
    Patrick. She could still hear him sobbing softly. Unless she agreed to do whatever Keegan suggested, he would hang her brother. Hang him. Compared to that, nothing that might happen to her seemed important. Nothing.
    Catching the inside of her cheek between her teeth, Caitlin forced herself to nod. It was the most difficult thing she'd ever done in her life.
    Keegan's eyes, she noticed inanely, were not obsidian black, but the deep, dark brown of chocolate, her favorite sweet. Unfortunately, there was nothing sweet in the look he gave her. His gaze seared hers, then dropped with insolent slowness to take inventory of her body. Caitlin felt shame burn a path up her neck and set fire to her cheeks.
    "You put a mighty high price on yourself, Miss O'Shannessy," he said in that same dangerously silken voice. "It remains to be seen if you're worth it."
    He bent to grab her arm. She expected his strong fingers to bite into her flesh. Instead his hand was like an iron manacle, his grip relentless, the only pain being in the rub, and that more to her sensibilities than her skin. She was so ashamed, she kept her head bent, a posture almost as foreign to her as being on her knees had been. Irish pride. All her life, it had been her biggest strength, and now it seemed to have completely deserted her.
    As Caitlin turned to follow Keegan, her feet got tangled. There was no question of her falling, though. Not with his hand on her arm to catch her. Off balance, she bumped into his shoulder, which was so hard it felt more like rock than flesh and bone.
    Oh, God, she almost wished she could fall—and hit her head while she was at it. Unconsciousness at a time like this would be a blessing. But, no. She had to stand there, fully awake and cognizant, while Keegan curtly instructed his men to haul Patrick down. Then, after slanting her another searing glance, he added, "Stand ready to string the little bastard back up if his sister, in true O'Shannessy form, decides not to honor her word."
    The implication that there was no honor in her family was almost more than Caitlin's stung pride could take. No matter what her father had done, she was nothing if not honest and she had never broken her word in her life. She had no intention of starting now, not because she felt obligated to deal fairly with a man who clearly had so little honor himself, but because her brother's life would be forfeit.
    "Boss?" one of the men standing near Patrick's horse said uncertainly.
    His tone drew Caitlin's attention to the group of men as a whole. Unlike her and Keegan, they stood almost directly under one of the lanterns, their faces well] illuminated. Upon every countenance she saw either stunned disbelief or disapproval. Their reactions were small comfort. Before she had time to completely assimilate them, Keegan released her arm to commandeer one of the lanterns and then nudged her into a walk ahead of him down an aisle toward a brace of empty stalls at the back of the barn.
    Feeling like a bit of flotsam carried on a wave, Caitlin approached a fate that was to her far worse than dying. What made it even more awful was the man behind her. His rage was clear in his brisk strides and the jerky splashes of lantern light on the plank walls.
    With each scrape of his right boot