“It’s a lady this time—Miss Melissy Lee.”
His words shook her. An icy hand seemed to clamp upon her heart. The blood ebbed even from her lips, but her brave eyes never faltered from his.
“So you war on women, too!”
He gave her his most ironic bow. “I don’t war on you, my dear. You shall have half of my kingdom, if you ask it—and all my heart.”
“I can’t use either,” she told him quietly. “But I’m only a girl. If you have a spark of manliness in you, surely you won’t take me a prisoner among those wild, bad men of yours.”
“Those wild, bad men of mine are lambs when I give the word. They wouldn’t lift a hand against you. And there is a woman there—the mother of one of my boys, who was shot. We’ll have you chaperoned for fair.”
“And if I say I won’t go?”
“You’ll go if I strap you to your saddle.”
It was characteristic of Melissy that she made no further resistance. The sudden, wolfish gleam in his eyes had told her that he meant what he said. It was like her, too, that she made no outcry; that she did not shed tears or plead with him. A gallant spirit inhabited that slim, girlish body; and she yielded to the inevitable with quiet dignity. This surprised him greatly, and stung his reluctant admiration. At the same time, it set her apart from him and hedged her with spiritual barriers. Her 254 body might ride with him into captivity; she was still captain of her soul.