by E. E. Burke
He thrust the scarf into the creek. The cold water chilled his hands. It did nothing to cool the fever that infected the rest of his body.
Redbird clutched at her jacket and scooted back. Only a fool wouldn’t be frightened, and she was not a fool. By now, she had to be aware of her effect on him.
“Shouldn’t we leave?” She darted an anxious glance at the woods. “In case your partner shows up.”
No point to deny what she had already figured out. “He is at least half a day behind.”
“I still think we need to go.”
Charley wasn’t the only man she feared. Her furtive glances at the trees meant she might try to run.
“You will be in more danger if you get lost in the woods.”
Her expression conveyed she didn’t believe him.
If he could not ease her fears, he would have to chase after her every time they stopped.
Jake rested his hands on his knees. He would keep them to himself for the remainder of the journey. “Do not be afraid. I swear I will keep you safe, Redbird.”
* * *
“Redbird?” Kate’s hand flew to her hair. It’d been compared to worse than a cardinal’s bright coloring. Even so, her captor’s jest hurt more because it reminded her that all men, even those regarded as savages, found her unattractive.
She smoothed the messy curls and retreated behind her only defense—self-deprecating humor. “You shouldn’t insult the poor bird. It might take offense.”
The devilishly handsome Indian regarded her with an intensity that make her heart beat faster. “Redbird is the daughter of the sun,” he said, without a smile.
Oh. She’d misunderstood. He meant some famous figure from an Indian story, although why she would resemble one remained a puzzle.
“Did Redbird look like me?” That seemed unlikely.
“The legend does not tell us Redbird’s appearance. When she came to me in a dream, she had hair like flames and eyes as blue as the sky vault.”
He hadn’t used the word beautiful, but the way he described Redbird made her feel that way. The part about the dream she found too disconcerting to consider, other than to assume he meant it as some sort of flattery.
Her hand drifted up to her hair again, which must’ve have changed since she’d last seen it. “Did you mean to compliment me?”
“It was not an insult.” His gold-flecked eyes burned with a look she didn’t often receive from men, especially handsome ones.
“I believe I need another drink.” Kate tore away from his unwavering gaze and bent over the gurgling stream to cup a handful of water.
He had stopped at a secluded glen. They did need rest, but that wasn’t all he had in mind, if his heated looks were any indication. He must’ve become aware of her attraction to him and planned to seduce her. Why else the made-up names and pretty stories?
Perhaps he viewed her as a conquest. After all, how many Indian outlaws, even handsome ones, could claim they’d bedded a rich white woman? On the other hand, he hadn’t taken advantage of her. In fact, he’d helped her cool down. She still didn’t trust that he would take her somewhere safe. After all, lying and cheating came as natural as breathing to outlaws.
Kate threw a frantic glance at his horse, which contentedly grazed a few paces away. He’d catch her before she could reach the animal, much less get on the darn thing.
“Feeling better?”
His pretended concern bothered her, too. It had to be ruse to gain her trust, make her more compliant and easily manipulated.
“Still thirsty.” While she took another drink, she studied him out of the side of her eyes.
He wore a gun holstered at his hip. If he let down his guard, she might be able to steal it.
First, she would have to distract him. She could act as if she wished to be seduced and trick him, like she’d planned before. Only this time, she would have to be a better actress. Her life depended on it.
What if, after she nabbed the gun, he tried to overpower her? Could she bring herself to shoot him? She’d make him believe she would.
Be bold. Calculating. Like an outlaw.
Kate steeled her nerves. Then she looked up at him through her lashes, the way she’d seen debutantes do, which seemed to always work for them. Was this right? She’d never felt comfortable with flirtation and disliked being coy. Given her plight, she would try anything.
“Y-you think my hair is pretty?” She tried not to grimace at how ridiculous she sounded. Once before, she had tried to fool him. He didn’t strike her as stupid. This would never work if she couldn’t convince him of her interest.
After taking a deep breath to relieve her jitters, she removed the pins from her hair and unwound what was left of the knot. Her hands shook despite her effort to control it. “Most men don’t like the color. I’m surprised you do.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t even react. He might think the heat had affected her mind.
She used her fingers to comb the curly tresses over her shoulder, keeping her eyes averted to hide what a basket of nerves she’d become.
“Wonder what it feels like.” His voice came out rough and low, almost as if he’d spoken a thought aloud. He hadn’t noticed her nervousness. This might work.
She didn’t have to try very hard to muster up another bashful glance. Making him an offer took more effort. “You can...touch it. I don’t mind.”
Surprise registered on his face. In the next moment, he reached out.
Their fingers brushed.
Desire crackled through her with lightning swiftness, shocking a gasp out of her.
She jerked her gaze to his face. Thank heavens he was fixated on her hair or he would’ve seen her alarm and realized she was acting.
With a rapt expression, he stared at a bright curl held between his fingers. “It feels like lamb’s wool.”
She released a trembling laugh. “Goodness, that doesn’t sound very fetching.”
His eyes warmed to the color of old gold. “Wool from the first shearing is the softest.”
Delight warmed her skin. Once more he surprised her with another utterly unique compliment. He might be fascinated because she looked different from Indian women. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t let his admiration, and her frightening attraction to him, distract her from her goal—to get his gun.
She stroked her hair in invitation. “What else have you wondered?”
His expression of awe transformed into a look that needed no interpretation. A second later, he fisted a handful of her hair and dragged her to him. Tilted her face, and took her mouth in a rough, insistent kiss.
Shock held her immobile.
He drew back. For the space of a heartbeat, his hot gaze searched her face, scorching it.
Oh God. Had he realized it was an act?
Her courage wavered. Before she could retreat, she put her arms around his neck and drew him closer. This time, when he bent his head to kiss her, he gentled the touch. As if it were a request, not a demand. He flicked his tongue over her sensitized flesh, each light touch sending shivers up her spine. Her breath stalled in her lungs as he kept up the gentle assault. Licking. Nipping. Soothing. Heavens, this wasn’t just a kiss. He was seducing her mouth.
He drew in her sigh and captured her breath. Her heart fluttered into her throat to follow as a willing captive. Any inclination to resist evaporated beneath the hot, enticing kiss.
She gave in to a compelling urge to touch him to chart the breadth of his shoulders, stroke the lean, corded muscles in his arms. She already had familiarity with the rock-hard muscles in his thighs, after her backside had been pressed against him for many hours.
Her acceptance of his kiss seemed to embolden him. He spanned her waist with his hands as if measuring her for a corset. His thumbs stroked the underside of her breasts. The teasing touch made them ache. Made her want more…
She clung to him, eager to learn the intricacies of a kiss—the rhythm, akin to dancing, or like fencing, a series o
f thrusts and parries. While she knew she ought to push him away, she didn’t want to. Her body answered only to this intense attraction.
He broke the kiss, gasping. Had he forgotten to breathe, as well? Her mind reeled from a lack of oxygen. Before she’d regained her wits, he began to trail soft kisses across her cheek, with rough whispers, words she didn’t understand. Whatever the meaning, she sensed from his tone that he praised her.
He pressed her down onto the soft grass, which felt cool in comparison to her fevered skin. His scent, not at all unpleasant, mingled with earthier odors.
Her head spun. His kisses intoxicated her more than her father’s best brandy. Only a taste melted her insides and sent warmth rushing through her veins. Sunlight danced in the leaves above her head. The creek sang near her feet. The sensations, all part of a magical spell she didn’t want to end.
She exposed her neck to his burning lips while his hands moved over her, shaping her curves, awakening her body to something she’d never known before.
Passion.
So, this was what it felt like, what she’d heard whispered about, and had even read about with disbelief. It had to be a form of madness. How else could she explain why she would slide her fingers through his hair to bring him closer?
With a groan, he stretched out on top of her and notched his hardness into the soft cradle of her hips. She ought to be scared witless. Instead, she felt strangely in control. He had succumbed to her, not the other way around. The man who had taken her prisoner against her will had now become her prisoner.
Her breathing quickened as she ran her hands over his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his vest and the soft fabric of his shirt. His form, so different, yet they fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle.
“Redbird,” he murmured.
Kate’s heart preened at the moniker, which conjured the image of a fiery-haired goddess. She loved the way he said it in his low western drawl, tinged with a hint of foreignness.
His fingers shaped her breast with a gentle squeeze. Only her jacket and camisole provided a barrier between her skin and his hand, and even that seemed like two layers too many. When he discovered the shape of her distended nipple with his thumb, he caressed it. She arched her back as tendrils of pure pleasure snaked through her.
How could something wicked feel good?
He continued to stroke and fondle her responsive flesh until she gasped for air.
Never had she given a man the liberties she gave him. Then again, no man had given her such enjoyment. Some part of her—the irrational, rebellious part—longed to throw off convention’s constraints and experience everything he offered.
His fingers went to the buttons on her jacket. He’d read her mind. Now, he would undress her. She would feel his hands on her bare skin, and his lips…
Yearning became an insistent ache. Desire swelled like waves whipped up by a strong wind, tossing her to and fro. Her whole body shook with tremors, new and foreign. Exhilarating, overpowering, and…
Terrifying.
Some small rational part of her mind reminded her about why she’d invited this outrageous intimacy. To escape, not bask in her first sexual encounter. She hadn’t expected passion to overwhelm her. What had made her think she could bend such a powerful force to her will? If she didn’t break free, she would be swept away.
Chapter 7
Surprise shattered Jake’s sensual haze. He clamped his hand over Redbird’s at the same moment she wrapped her fingers around the handle of his revolver. By thunder, she’d almost done it again. Not with a rock. This time, she had gone after his gun, and nearly succeeded.
He wrenched her fingers off the weapon. Pinned her hands to the ground. Furious and frustrated from the uncontrollable lust she’d inspired, he pressed himself against her. “Shall we finish what you started?”
Her eyes widened. The dark centers crowded out the blue like storm clouds in the sky. The red-faced woman beneath him appeared as horrified as Redbird of legend must’ve been when a poisonous snake showed up at her door.
Jake released her with a curse. He jerked away while muttering under his breath. Crazy. She’d driven him out of his mind. It was the only explanation for why he would mistake desperation for desire. The way she’d responded to him convinced him she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.
Fool. She felt nothing except the need to escape. That was why she’d invited him to touch her hair and had lured him into a kiss—to bring him close, muddle his mind, then steal his weapon.
His face burned as he got to his feet. Why had he fallen for her obvious tricks? Because he’d gotten all confused. He’d associated her with a vision that had come to him in a dream. A woman with hair the color of a sunset and eyes as blue as the sky vault. The daughter of the sun. Redbird had told him they were destined to be together. Somehow, he’d gotten the insane idea that this woman was her incarnation.
He had better get his head out of the clouds before she shot it off.
Jake poured contempt into his expression. He withdrew his revolver and offered it to her, daring her with his eyes. “You want this? Come get it.”
She struggled to a seated position and lifted her chin in a show of bravery. Her quivering lips spoiled the effect. “Stop taunting me. You got what you wanted.”
He responded with a nasty laugh. “If you think that, you have no idea what a man wants.”
His words tore down her valiant attempt at fake courage. She clutched her gaping jacket to hold it together. He had managed to open the buttons to the waistband of her skirt. If she hadn’t lunged for his gun, he would’ve had her tits in his hands.
Did she realize how close he’d come to losing control? His body throbbed with unsatisfied need. Even now, he fought a pressing demand to strip her bare and take what she’d freely offered.
“Button up the jacket or I might decide to take it off.”
Her face flamed, which made her pale, freckled skin look blotchy. Humiliation did nothing for her looks. “May I have privacy?”
“You are back to being modest now?” He spoke with disdain he didn’t feel. In fact, he had to work hard to remain resentful.
The moment he’d kissed her, he had known she was innocent—and that should have been a clue. She let him paw her out of desperation, not because she was promiscuous. That thought poured water on the fire she’d stoked. Continuing to insult her would only add to his shame.
She cast another furtive look toward his horse. Stubborn woman. She did not give up.
“My horse does not care for strangers. Keep that in mind before you try to steal him.” Jake walked a few steps away to allow her privacy, but he made sure he knew exactly where she was, just in case. If she tried to approach the high-strung stallion, she could be injured—or killed.
Redbird presented a stiff back to him while she buttoned the jacket up to her chin. He suspected she would expire from the heat before she opened it again.
The woods had gotten quiet. Too quiet. It was bad enough that he’d fallen for her tricks. The longer they tarried, the greater the chance his cousin would catch up.
He should have thought of that before, right about the time she took down her hair.
His gaze drifted back to the woman, although he had never completely lost sight of her. He ached to gorge his senses on her, to kiss, touch, taste... So beautiful, his Redbird.
He gritted his teeth. No, she didn’t not belong to him. She meant nothing to him. Correction. He meant nothing to her, and he had best not forget it.
Desperate to put distance between them, he went after his horse.
Thundercloud walked over to greet him.
Jake rubbed the horse’s velvety nose. “That’s a good boy.” His words mocked him. He had behaved worse than a stallion after a mare. If Redbird hadn’t lunged for his gun, he would have taken her right there on the grass. That, after he had sworn to assure her safety.
Granted, she’d cast a lure.
What else
should he expect, after he abducted her and then refused to tell her his plans?
After another moment, he led the horse around and adopted a hard expression. He had tried kindness before. She took advantage. For her own safety, he would purge the tender emotions she stirred. He could not afford to be soft when her life was at stake.
He drew off his scarf. “Give me your hands.”
Moisture pooled in the corners of her eyes. She blinked fast. The tears came faster than she could get rid of them. Her distress twisted a knife in his chest.
He reached for her, half expecting her to slap him, but there was no fight left her in her when he folded her against his chest. Instead, she clung to him and wept silently.
Not once had he seen her cry. Not even when Charley held a knife to her throat.
But now...
Shame tightened a noose around Jake’s heart. He had broken her spirit like one might break the spirit of a treasured mare. It was the worst crime he had ever committed. The physical ache she’d made him suffer was nothing compared to what he’d put her through.
No matter what she did to defy him, he would not punish her. She deserved his respect, and she needed his protection. He would give her both. At some point, when it was safe, he would take her home.
He drew his fingers gently through her tangled curls. “You need a brush. I will find one when we get to the house.”
“Whose house? Yours?” She pulled away, her eyes still bright with tears, like two blue pools. “Why are taking you me there?”
Because he could not yet return her nor could he take her with him. This incident more than proved he had no self-discipline where she was concerned.
“I meant what I said about keeping you safe.”
She twisted out of his arms. The dainty handkerchief came out, she wiped her face and blew her nose, then, with a sniff, stood straight as a soldier. “Is Charley really coming after us? Or did you use that as an excuse to gain my trust and—”
“Toss up your skirts? Do you believe that is why I drove my horse for nearly the whole day without rest?”