Most of his anger was turned inward. He’d made a fool of himself. He’d acted on impulse, not reason. Al his life he’d prided himself on holding back. His brothers might re up and act, but he thought things through rst. Only this time—this time he’d kissed Miss Liberty Mayeld, a senator’s daughter. And he’d kissed her ful out, no light hesitant rst kiss, but one that promised more, far more. Liberty wasn’t to blame. She’d simply hugged him for warmth and he’d taken it from there. She was stubborn, and proud, and more beautiful than any woman had a right to be. “And,” he mumbled to himself, “about to be married to another man.” But when he’d looked down at her deep green eyes, something misred in his brain. The next thing he knew he was pul ing her so close he could feel her heart pounding. If Stel a hadn’t stepped out on the porch, Liberty would probably stil be in his arms. Liberty had every right to tel her father, and the senator would more than likely have him shot on sight.
