by Jodi Thomas
“I learned something too,” she said. “I learned what a kiss was like, and I thank you for that. I still know marriage is not for me, but at least I have a nice memory. I never dreamed the touch of a man’s lips could make a warmth go all the way down my body.”
He picked up the cards. “You want to play another hand?”
“For what?”
He smiled slowly. “For one last kiss.”
She laughed. “One good-bye kiss.”
“Fair enough.” He dealt the hand without either of them taking a chair. He played it straight and won.
When she dropped her cards on the table, she stepped into his arms. His hand cupped the back of her head and held her just the way he liked to kiss her, leaning down only slightly, turning his head one way as he moved hers the other.
Tomorrow everyone would be getting ready for the party and he’d probably have to stay around, but for this one quiet moment he wanted to give her a kiss they’d both remember.
He’d meant it to be a sweet farewell kiss, but the memory of her shadow filled his mind and he pressed against the length of her. He knew this woman. Not only the taste and feel of her; he knew how she lived and felt and talked. She was as honest as the land she worked all day and the opposite of him. For one moment, as they held to each other, day and night touched. His rotten life at the bottom of society and her pure-air life on Whispering Mountain had collided, and they both knew that neither could step out of their world and into the other’s.
He tugged at her oversized shirt until he freed the cotton from her waist and pushed his hand inside so that he could feel her warm skin. He’d thought she might jerk away, but she didn’t.
Brushing his hand over her back, he whispered in her ear, “Thanks, darlin’,” like she’d just given him a gift.
Between the night and the brandy he didn’t seem capable of reason. All he wanted to do was hold her for as long as she’d let him. This woman’s spirit drew him as no woman ever had. She was strong and stubborn as no woman he’d ever known, but right now, in his arms, she was sweet and warm and yielding.
When he finally ended the kiss, he couldn’t let go. “You’re the one thing I’ll miss when I leave,” he whispered against her cheek.
She rubbed her cheek against his chin. “You’ll be surrounded by women in Austin.”
“Not like you, Em. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Without another word, she circled his neck and pulled him down the few inches for another kiss. He felt the warmth of her body press against him and wanted to breathe her deep into his lungs so he’d never get the fresh smell of her or the taste of her out of his mind. His hand moved over her back and along her sides. Her skin was soft as velvet. When he brushed just beneath her breast, he heard her soft sigh of pleasure. She might never want a man, but she was a woman meant to be cherished and made love to, often.
When she pulled away to breathe, he whispered, “I don’t suppose you’d consider coming to Austin with me?”
She shook her head as he noticed for the first time how pretty she was when she blushed.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’ve never trusted a man to get this close before. I fear I’d panic if we got any closer. In a few days you’ll forget about me.”
“And you’ll forget about me,” he teased.
“Maybe,” she whispered, and he knew she was lying just as he was.
She laid her hand flat against his heart. “I thought I’d be terrified if a man ever came so close, but I like the feel of you.”
He slowly unbuttoned his shirt and gently pushed her hand over his heart with no cotton to hinder her touch. “If you like the feel of me, Em, then feel me. Look at me. See me. Everything will be crazy around here and we may not be together like this again, but for tonight, know that you are with me. Not just some man you let kiss you. Not a stranger, but me.”
Panic flashed in her eyes for a moment, and then she smiled. “I can feel your heart.”
He thought of saying something flowery and romantic, but he wanted no more lies between them. If he left she’d never know that he wasn’t the honest man he pretended to be.
He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and watched her as she moved her fingers over his chest. Her hands were worn from hard work, but her touch was light and gentle.
“Tell me your thoughts,” he asked, standing very still with his hands resting easy on her waist.
“The hair on your chest is softer than I’d thought it would be. The muscles tighter.” She stopped her hand over his heart once more. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Why? We’re not children who need watching.” He leaned over and kissed just below her ear. “I know you may not believe me, Em, but I’ve never been like this with a woman.”
She raised an eyebrow and studied him. “You’ve never kissed a woman?”
He grinned. “I’ve kissed a few, but none I’d kiss again.”
“You’ve never had a sweetheart?”
“Never.”
“But you’ve been with women. More than one?”
He closed his eyes, wishing he could lie to her, but he wouldn’t. For once in his life he’d answer honestly whatever she asked. “Yes, more than one.”
He felt her body stiffen in his arms as she lifted her chin and asked, “Did you force them?”
“No, Em. I’ve never forced a woman. I never would. I may be a lot of things you might not think are grand, but I swear to you, I’m not that. I didn’t have any feelings for them. We were just passing time.”
She relaxed slightly. “I believe you. I’m glad that the one man who kissed me was you.”
“With you it’s far more than I expected. With each kiss, each touch, a hunger grows in me. It’ll be hard saying good-bye to you, Em, but I’ll do it if that’s what you want.”
“That’s what I want,” she said. “You have to become a memory.”
He wanted to hold her gently in his arms all night. There were deep, dark secrets within this woman. Secrets he wasn’t sure he could bear to know, but it helped realizing that somehow he’d reached her and she felt safe in his arms.
Pulling away from her, he turned down the light until the room was in shadows, guessing she wouldn’t want to be in the dark. “The rain’s slowed. It’s too cold to sit on the porch swing tonight, but would you sit with me for a while in here? We could listen to the rain.”
He touched her hand and tugged her toward the couch.
She hesitated, then followed and curled up beside him as if they were on the swing. After a while, she said, “I’m sorry you didn’t find your dream here.”
His arm tightened slightly over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I think it was an impossible dream. I thought it would be grand to have a wife and maybe kids. A home I could come to at night when I’m tired. A place where the world would seem at peace.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the leather couch. “It wasn’t to be. Not for a man like me, I guess.”
She cuddled closer. “You’ll find it someday. You found me for a friend, didn’t you?”
“That’s true. The first day I went out with you I thought you might be trying to kill me.”
“I was.” She laughed, and he wasn’t sure if she was joking or not.
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Should we play for another kiss?”
“It’s too dark.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to let you win,” he said, with his lips already brushing hers. She giggled and collected her winnings.
When he broke the kiss, she cuddled close to his side as she had before. “Stay here with me tonight, Em. Sleep on my shoulder. Let me hold you.”
“But it’s not right.”
“No one’s in this part of the house. No one will know. I just want to hold you for a while.”
“All right,” she said. “For a while.”
A few minutes later he felt her breathing slow, and he knew she was asleep. This was as near as he’d ever c
ome to sleeping with a woman. He smiled, loving the peace of it.
In her sleep, she reached for his hand and held on tight. Lewt drifted into sleep, feeling as if all was right in the world.
Six hours later at dawn, the pounding on the door woke him to the fact that he’d guessed wrong. Something was very wrong.
CHAPTER 20
DUNCAN FELT AS IF HE WERE DRIFTING IN A NIGHTMARE of pain. Once in a while someone dripped water into his mouth, and he tried to remember to swallow. Fever raged through his veins like a freight train loaded with hot coals. Again and again small hands wiped the sweat from his face.
The fog cleared for a time, and he managed to open his eyes. He was in a room made from logs with the bark left on the wood. There was no sign of the old woman who’d helped him, but the room was warm and someone slept on the floor a few feet from his bed. She looked little more than a child, with wild hair the color of dark rich earth.
Duncan remembered someone touching him, cleaning his wound, washing him with cold water when the fever raged. He drifted back to sleep, thankful that whoever she was, she was near.
One time, deep in darkness, he thought he heard the old woman shouting orders, but he didn’t know or care what she said. There was movement in the room and the sound of someone sweeping with a slow rhythm that reminded him of the sound the water makes along the Gulf Coast. Without windows he had no idea whether it was day or night.
When he woke again the door was open, and he saw that it was daylight beyond. The girl with the wild brown hair was helping him drink. She had a gentle touch and huge sad eyes. Saint’s eyes, Duncan thought.
“Thanks,” he whispered.
She nodded, but didn’t speak.
“What’s your name?”
She didn’t answer, but he saw a blink of fear flash in her eyes. Somehow in her world the idea of someone asking her name meant danger.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in Spanish, then repeated the words in English.
She still didn’t respond.
A big man with an arm that swung useless at his side banged his way into the room. He carried a load of firewood in his good arm that few men with both arms could have managed. He was dressed in work clothes but wore a gun low on his hip. After making little effort to put the wood in the bend, he dropped it in a pile and stared at the girl.
Duncan watched him with half-closed eyes for a few minutes. The big man took a step toward the girl and raised his hand as if to pat her head, but she slipped to the other side of the bed. The big hand moved again as if they were playing a game. She countered, keeping as far away from him as she could in the small room. The man laughed, but Duncan could tell from the girl’s face that she wasn’t enjoying the exchange. She didn’t seem overly afraid of him, more bothered.
When the girl tripped over the firewood trying to stay out of his reach, he moved away as if giving her time to straighten. He stepped to the foot of Duncan’s bed and looked at him.
Duncan opened his eyes, hoping the man would stop his game of stalking the girl if he knew someone was watching.
He seemed disappointed to find Duncan still alive. While the girl picked up the wood, the man moved closer to Duncan as if the girl were no more important to him than a kitten. “Don’t talk to the girl.” His voice was a low growl, as though at one point in his life he’d screamed until his vocal cords gave way. “If you do, you’ll get her in trouble. And don’t touch her. No one is allowed to touch her, not even me, though I know she’s waiting for the time when I do.”
Duncan nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off the big man. He’d seen outlaws with the same kind of dead eyes this guy had. Dark, cold as an open grave.
The girl moved to the fireplace and began stoking the fire as if the room were cold and not already warm. She didn’t look at the man, but he glanced in her direction, keeping her in his sight.
“What’s your name?” Duncan asked, not sure he liked the way the man glared at the girl.
Both men were silent as the girl hurried out of the room with a bucket.
The big man watched her go, then seemed to relax his guard when he turned back to Duncan. “Not that it’s any of your business, Ranger, but my name’s Ramon. I don’t figure you’ll be around long enough to get to know anyone, not even the girl.” The big man moved a step closer. “She don’t say nothing, but she knows, just like I do, that you’re a corpse still breathing.”
Duncan gave no reaction to Ramon’s words. “My wound’s not that bad. I think now the fever’s gone, I might pull through this.” He knew Ramon didn’t care, but he wanted to keep the man talking, possibly make a friend if he could.
“It ain’t that wound that will kill you, it’s that ranger badge you were wearing when crazy old Toledo found you. She’ll make a pretty penny turning you over, but she has to get you in good enough shape to die. Nobody wants to hang a man out of his head with fever, and if she handed over a corpse, she wouldn’t get a tenth the money she’ll get if you’re alive and can dance at the end of a rope for a while.”
“She’s not turning me over,” Duncan said, as if he believed his own words. “She asked if I’d do her a favor. When I do whatever she wants, she’ll let me go on my way and I’m heading straight to Texas.”
Ramon laughed. “Well, if I were you I’d get real worried if she asked you to step outside. Knowing Toledo, she’d even hand you a gun just to make it more interesting when the outlaws come to claim what they bought. And they will come, Ranger, mark my words.”
Duncan glanced around the room. Not only his clothes seemed to be missing, so were his guns. “Any chance you’d get a message for me across the border? Let them know I’m still alive. It would be worth a double eagle to me if you could.”
Ramon shook his head. “If she found out, she’d turn me out at best; at worst, she’d beat me like she beats that girl now and then. Crazy old Toledo ties the little creature up outside at the hitching post so everyone can see like it was a show we’d enjoy, then she beats her with whatever’s handy until the girl passes out. Some say that when little Anna first came here she’d cry after she was beat, but I’ve been here six years and I’ve never heard her make a sound.”
“Why would anyone hurt that child?” Duncan remembered how the big guy had teased her and asked, “Is she your kin?”
Ramon grinned, showing several gaps where teeth had once been. “I’m a mixture of about everything. My dad was a buffalo soldier at Fort Davis, my mother a native caught stealing food. She claimed her mother was a white woman and her dad a Mexican rancher up near Santa Fe, but I doubt it was true. She was a woman threaded together with lies.”
Duncan wondered if the big man before him hadn’t inherited his mother’s traits.
“I tell you of my mixed blood so that you’ll see how someone like me would know the value of little Anna. She’s pureblood.”
Ramon sat down on the chair next to the bed and leaned back as if he’d been invited to stay a spell on an evening porch. “The girl’s kin to Toledo,” he volunteered, without being asked. “Their blood runs all the way back to Spain. I think I heard one of the cooks say that the old witch is the girl’s great-aunt. Something happened to the kid’s family and they shipped her here, having no idea that Toledo would hate her own kin.”
He shook his head. “The old woman don’t seem to need a reason to beat the girl. Once, when Anna hadn’t been here more than a few years, she tried to run away. Toledo pulled off her shirt looking for any bud of womanhood, saying she’d marry her off and the child would be someone else’s worry. When she found only a child’s body, she stripped the girl completely and used a whip for the first time.
“The old woman was so exhausted by the time she’d completed the job, I had to carry her inside, and then I went out and covered the child with blankets so she wouldn’t freeze. Her back was covered in blood. Toledo had promised she’d beat her with the whip every time she ran away. The girl never ran again, and Toledo went back t
o using a stick. It makes welts, but it won’t kill her.”
“Why’d you care if she lived? You didn’t care enough to stop the beating.” Duncan had seen something in Ramon’s eyes when he glared at the girl. Not caring, more like ownership.
Ramon grinned. “I’ m the one who caught her when she ran. Toledo says I can have her every night if I want after she gets her monthly bleeds. The old woman wants to breed her, claims she’s no more than a cow who should produce a kid a year once she’s able. Toledo says she’ll tie the girl to my bed at night until she fills with child, and then I can’t touch her until she gives birth.”
The big man puffed up. “But I don’t think we’ll have to tie her. I think once she gets used to me, she’ll stay. I may have a worthless arm, but I’d be better for her than most around here. Once I break her from running from me, she might even take to my touch.”
When Duncan raised an eyebrow, Ramon quickly added, “I try to help her out when I can. It ain’t my job to bring in the wood, but I do and I make sure she eats sometimes even when she doesn’t want to. I’m the nearest she’s got to a friend around the place. If it wasn’t for me she’d be locked in this room every time Toledo leaves the place, but I let her out. I watch her to make sure she doesn’t run, but I let her go about her day, doing her chores.”
Duncan fought to keep his face free from emotion. “Why would Toledo want the girl to have children if she hates the sight of her so much?”
“I don’t know. Don’t care. All I want is her. Now and then I brush my hand across her accidental-like to see if she’s developing up top. I’m beginning to think she won’t, or if she does they’ll be small, and that’s all right with me. I’ll still take her. I only got one hand that works, so she don’t have to have much up top to satisfy me.” He laughed and wiggled his eyebrows as if sharing a secret, then continued, “Toledo did say once that when the babies come she’ll have a wet nurse take care of them so the girl can breed faster. She says if I keep her well rounded I’ll have less duties around the place and if the girl bears three brats that live the first three years we’re together, Toledo promised she’d double my salary. I’m thinking if we go to six, I’ll be expecting another double.”