by Crooks, Pam
Her head came up again.
“What is so funny?” she demanded, thumping his chest with the spoon. “They are the devil's image! Filthy, repulsive and disgusting! How can you not be sickened by the very sight of one?”
“Is this a--a Gypsy thing?” he managed to ask.
“Do the Gaje not feel the same way?” She stared up at him, wide-eyed.
“No, we don't. Not at all.” His mirth filled the cabin to the rafters. “Probably came in from the river with all the rain. He's harmless. I'll show you.”
“Do not touch it!” she gasped in horror.
The bullfrog croaked and leaped toward them. Liza jumped and squealed and clutched at Reese, covering her eyes with one hand. “Do not let it get near us. It is the devil! Do you not understand?”
“Oh, Liza. Sweetheart.” His laughter erupted all over again.
She ventured a peek around him, her dark eyes riveted to the poor creature, who amid all the commotion hop, hop, hopped around them and finally disappeared outside.
“Thank the saints,” she breathed and hastily crossed herself.
“I'd warrant he was more afraid of you than you were of him.”
“You mock me with your laughter, but I tell you, Gajo, I can think of nothing more revolting,” she said, her tone offended. “It is the truth.”
“Okay, okay. I believe you.”
He drew back.
Their gazes meshed.
His chuckles died away in his throat.
In that moment, something changed between them. Something powerful and indefinable that stole the breath from his lungs and threatened to knock him to his knees.
A slow heat flickered deep within him. Their surroundings faded into oblivion. He was aware of only Liza and the softness of her breasts crushed against his chest. He could drown in her eyes, deep obsidian pools that bewitched him like a sorceress's curse. His hand slid beneath the weight of her hair and curled around her nape.
She stared up at him. With a certainty that rocked him to the core, he knew his prediction from the night before would come true, that their kiss was imminent and unquestioned, and that he wanted it more than he'd ever wanted a kiss from a woman before.
Slowly, his head lowered. The wooden spoon slipped unnoticed from her fingers, and she moved closer, lips parted, her head tilting back to meet him.
At last, his mouth covered hers, gently at first, giving her time to refuse. But she did not. She responded with a boldness that surprised him, her mouth moving and hungry under his. Her slender arms wound around his neck and clung, as if she couldn't get close enough, as if she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
The fires of desire raged unchecked inside him. To hell with respect and gratitude. He'd been a fool to stay away from her until now. The need to crawl between her thighs, fill her with his seed, to brand her as forever his, was almost more than he could bear.
He groaned, deep, fierce, and hardened the kiss. So little time left. Their worlds, too different, too far apart, would never be conquered, but for now, he had her, he had this kiss, and it would have to be enough.
But it wasn't. Not even close. He wanted too much from this Gypsy woman, wanted more than he should, but her passion toppled his, and he could deny himself no longer,
“Liza, Liza.”
The aching rasp begged to be answered. She trembled in his arms and whispered his name in kind, giving him what he asked with no more than that. Moist and inviting, her mouth sought his again, and Reese thought he'd die from the pleasure of it.
His hand moved across her ribcage and found the fullness of her breast. She made a primitive sound, as if eager for all he had to give. Impatient with the barrier, he pushed the loose-fitting blouse off her shoulder; to the chemise he did the same, baring a rounded globe of feminine flesh and filling his palm with its delectable weight.
From somewhere, a horse nickered. Absorbed with Liza, with her heat and softness and all she made him feel, he fought the intrusion . . ..
“Reese?” The man's voice cut into his comprehension like an icy gust of wind. “What the hell's going on in here?”
Chapter 8
Liza tore away from Reese and clutched her blouse and chemise to her bosom, a moan of mortification spilling from her swollen lips. It was all Reese could do to keep from pulling her into his arms again. He didn't want it to end like this.
Bram's timing couldn't have been worse. Muttering an oath, Reese straightened and laced him, keeping his back to Liza that his body might offer her a measure of privacy.
“You should've knocked, Bram,” he said, the words husky, heavy with irritation.
“Given the circumstances, maybe I should have.”
But Bram's tone offered no apology. His thick, silvery brows were furrowed in disapproval. He stood in the cabin's opening, the hanging quilts thrust to one side. Sunshine and crisp morning air billowed inward, and Reese glimpsed a carriage parked in the yard.
“You found the Gypsy girl, I see.” Bram's sharp glance darted to Liza.
“I did.”
“The stallion, too?”
“He's with your sorrel out back.”
“Both doing well enough, I hope.”
“Fine, fine,” Reese snapped, impatient with the small talk.
“Rebecca Ann's waiting outside. She's been worried about you. We all have been.”
Reese made no reply and dragged his gaze to Liza. She stood angled away from him, her back stiff, her fingers still clutching the blouse in a white-knuckled grip. He willed her to look at him that he might offer silent reassurance, but she didn’t.
He limped toward Bram, and placing a hand to the older man's back, firmly nudged him outside. Liza needed the time alone.
From the driver's seat, Rebecca Ann peered around the edge of the buggy and lifted a gloved hand, her delicate features bearing a tentative smile. She looked as beautiful as ever in a deep-blue velvet gown that must've cost a fortune. The feathers in her hat fluttered in the breeze. Margaret Michelle slept peacefully on her lap.
Reese waved back, but he didn't go to her; instead, he dipped into his jacket pocket for a rolled cigarette. He needed a shave, a hot bath, and a change of clothes. He doubted Rebecca Ann in all her perfection would find the sight of him appealing.
Bram hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his tweed wool suit pants and sighed heavily. “What's going on between you and the Gypsy?”
Reese cupped the match's flame, surprised to find his hand wasn't quite steady, that the blood Liza had stirred to fire hadn’t yet cooled.
“The kiss should never have happened. It just did,” he growled.
“Damn right it shouldn't have happened. Thank God Rebecca Ann wasn't there to see you two.”
“What happened with Liza is my business. I invite you to stay out it.”
Bram looked so offended Reese immediately regretted his outburst. They'd been friends for as long as he could remember. They rarely argued, and certainly never over a woman.
“I can recall a time or two when you were glad I was involved in your business,” Bram grated.
Reese took the blow. If not for Bram and his shrewd financial mind, the Nebraska-Dakota Railroad would not have been a dream come true.
He exhaled in frustration, knowing he should apologize but unable to find the words. An uneasy silence reigned between them while the cigarette smoldered, forgotten, between his fingers. Down the road, a wagon and a pair of workhorses plodded through the mud.
Bram took in a heavy breath, then blew it out again, letting the argument dissipate between them. He studied the cabin. Disbelief formed in his expression. “You been holed up here all this time?”
Reese nodded. The structure looked far worse in broad daylight. With the lightest breeze, the heavy logs seemed ready to tumble to the ground like a pile of matchsticks. No wonder Bram looked appalled.
“We had provisions and part of a roof over our heads,” Reese said. “We were warm and dry. It could've been w
orse.”
Shaking his head, Bram swept a glance across the debris strewn about the yard. “That was some twister that hit.”
“I know. We were lucky to make it through.” He paused. “How did Niobrara City fare?”
“Pretty good, considering the strength of the storm.”
“And the train?”
“Untouched. The bridge is fine, too. We didn't lose a splinter.”
Thank God, Reese thought silently. It was a favorable sign, his train and its trestle bridge making it through. He couldn't help feeling the N & D would make it through most anything.
“A search party was out yesterday looking for you and the girl. When we couldn't find a trace of either of you, we expected the worse. Never dreamed you were here all along. Thought for sure we lost you to the Niobrara.”
“I appreciate the concern.” Funny how he'd worried far less about them. Taking refuge with Liza had thrust him into a world vastly removed from civilization. She'd been one hell of a diversion.
“This is Jack Hadley's place, isn't it?” Bram asked, his tone thoughtful.
“Yes. They went visiting relatives. Omaha, I think.”
“Damned awful thing to come back to. Feel sorry for Maudeen. Going to be real hard on her to see this.”
Reese fell silent. Jack and Maudeen Hadley's cabin had been a godsend, despite its ravaged condition. Without the shelter it gave, he and Liza might never have survived the storm.
A snippet of color drew his attention. Liza emerged from behind the quilts, her chin taut, her spine straight, the gold beads around her neck jangling lightly with her every step.
From the carriage, Rebecca Ann gasped softly; her fingers flew to her mouth in surprise. The women's gazes locked, as if each sized the other up, judging for themselves the threat either presented.
Reese's eyes narrowed. Liza wore the kerchief again. The striped fabric hugged her head like a second skin, hiding the copper-gold tresses. She wore the damn thing like a shield, holding herself apart from them.
From him.
He sensed the change in her instantly. No impish light danced in her eyes, no soft, gentle smile warmed her mouth. The haughtiness he'd always associated with her people had returned in full force, stealing away the Liza he knew and bringing in its place a woman filled with scorn and contempt.
A stranger.
He'd have no part in her game. He stepped forward to make proper introductions and destroy once and for all the misconceptions she had about his people, the Gaje. And it was time Bram and Rebecca Ann learned, too, that Liza was as human as they, no different, but in fact a beautiful, caring person who'd touched a part of his heart like few had before her.
But another woman's anguished cry stopped him cold.
They all turned in unison. Jack Hadley guided his team into the yard and commanded them to a halt. Beside him sat Maudeen, her arms clutching their two young sons. They stared at their damaged home, shock draining their faces of all color. The reins fell from Jack's fingers and dropped to the ground.
His glance traveled over his land with a misery-laden thoroughness, as if searching for the outbuildings that once stood, touching upon the barn that leaned precariously to one side, the stalks of corn lying broken and mangled in their fields. Without a word, he slipped his arm around Maudeen. She sagged against him with a sob, and Reese's gut twisted.
He felt their loss keenly. If there was a way he could make this easier for them, he'd do it.
“Mr. Carrison?” Jack's raspy voice cut through him, pleading for a plausible explanation.
“I'm sorry, Jack.” Reese's reply sounded meaningless and trite. What good would sorrow do for a man who'd nearly lost everything he'd worked for? “A twister came through,” he went on solemnly. “We'll help you and Maudeen get back on your feet. You know that.”
“Why us?” The tiny words cracked with despair. “We've done nothin' but scratch out a livin' on this place day and night. And now it's gone.”
“You'll build it back up again. You've got no choice, not with Maudeen and the boys to think of.”
“We'll put you up in town, too,” Bram offered. “Won't take long until the cabin's livable, just like before. You'll see.”
“No.” Maudeen pulled away from Jack and sat up. She swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I'm not leaving.”
Reese attempted to reason with her. “Only for a little while, Maudeen. We'll get the neighbors to help. Bram's right. It won't take long to make repairs, not with everyone pitching in. Don't you agree, Jack?”
But Jack didn't seem to hear. He'd grown very still. By subtle degrees, his expression changed from despair, to puzzlement, to outright suspicion.
“Why are you all here?” he demanded.
Uneasy with the shift of his mood, Reese chose his explanation with care. “We got caught in the storm and stayed here a couple of days, that's all. Bram and Rebecca Ann just now found us.”
“We?” Jack asked, spearing a glance at each of them.
Toby, the Hadley's four-year-old son, scrambled from his mother's arms and jumped to the ground, landing feet first in a water puddle. Jack paid him no mind. Instead, his gaze found Liza standing at the front of the cabin.
It appeared he hadn't noticed her before. The suspicion etched in his young face deepened.
“A Gypsy?” he snarled, his eyes slashing over her. “What's she doin' here? Tryin' to take what ain't hers?”
Disgust from Jack's accusation rolled through Reese. Liza's lip curled with disdain, and her nostrils flared.
“Speak of her with more respect, Jack,” Reese warned. “She's done nothing wrong.”
Oblivious to the turmoil brewing about him, Toby ran toward Liza with eager curiosity.
“Hello,” he said. “Who're you?”
His innocent greeting bore no trace of his father's animosity. Liza hesitated; then, her hand moved, as if she intended to reach out and touch him.
“Toby! Git away from her!” Jack snapped. “She might have somethin' catchin'!”
“Jack!” Maudeen appeared horrified.
Liza recoiled. The Gajo's words ripped through her like a whip, stinging to the quick, laying her open to bleed in front of all of them. No one spoke. No one did anything but stare at her. Even Reese.
Especially Reese.
She hated them. She hated him.
She had to make them go away, frighten them, make them run like fat jackrabbits from a hungry wolf. She had to stop their awful accusations.
Her fingers curled into claws. She hissed and spread her arms wide. Her eyes narrowed. A monotone chant spilled from her lips, and in a voice snapping and cutting, she cursed them with a vehemence dredged up from deep in her soul.
In unified alarm, they drew back.
Only Reese remained unmoved. “Liza, what the hell are you doing?”
He seemed stunned by her actions. She repeated the curse, the chant louder, more forceful, and moved her arms in slow, sweeping gestures.
“Liza, stop it. Now.”
She wavered beneath his ominous warming. Grim-faced, he stepped closer, looking as if he wanted to strangle her. She knew he saw through her ploy, that with him the old Gypsy trick had failed. She broke into a run, but too swiftly he caught her, holding her in a grip of iron.
“Let me go!” she spat.
“You crazy fool!” His eyes brewed with golden thunder in a tempestuous storm that rivaled the one two days past. His fingers dug into her upper arms; she sensed only supreme effort held his temper in check. “I don't know what you're trying to prove, woman,” he said in a growl, his voice so low that only she could hear. “But you're doing damned little to improve your precious Gypsy image to my friends.”
She wilted under his attack. His broad shoulders hid the others from view. The feel of his hard body pressed against hers brought crashing back memories of the searing kiss they had shared inside the cabin.
“Get away from me!” she said, the demand sounding appallingly like
a whimper.
She pushed against him to no avail. Her hands clenched into fists. She fought his power, clung to the hate that had given her strength only moments ago.
“Something's burning!” Maudeen shrieked.
The biscuits.
Saints in heaven. Liza had forgotten them. But so what? She did not care if they caught fire and burned the stupid Gajes’ cabin to the ground!
Her gaze involuntarily darted to Maudeen who frantically thrust her baby son into her husband's arms and hurried from the wagon.
Liza swallowed and submitted to the truth. Yes, she did care. In spite of everything, it was not right that this woman should lose what was left of her home to a fire.
She twisted from Reese's grip. With her skirt hems flying at her heels, Liza sprinted back into the cabin, scant steps behind Maudeen, already disappearing behind the quilts.
Smoke curled from around the oven door. Maudeen coughed and waved away the haze before reaching for the oven's handle. Too late, Liza saw the danger as the young woman's fingers gripped the hot metal bar.
Maudeen cried out and snatched her hand away. Liza swiftly pushed her aside and plucked from the floor the tablecloth she and Reese had slept on. Wadding the fabric to save her own palms, she yanked the door open and pulled out the blackened biscuits, tossing the pan onto the stovetop with a harried clatter.
The door slammed shut again. Maudeen stared at Liza with wide, uncertain eyes.
Liza stared back.
The woman was close to her own age. Looking frazzled and defeated, she appeared near tears and clutched her burned hand to her breast. Liza waited for her scorn, a match to her husband's, but Maudeen's tongue remained silent.
A wary moment passed. Then, Liza moved, taking Maudeen's hand. Dipping into a tin of lard near the sideboard, she salved the blisters already forming on Maudeen's work roughened skin.
Maudeen's breath caught in surprise. Again, their gazes met. A flicker of gratitude shone through the shimmery tears, but Liza turned away. She did not want this Gajo woman's thanks. She had no need of it.
Reese and the others entered the cabin in a rush, Maudeen and her injury taking their lull attention. None of them paid Liza any notice.