Outlaw Heart

by Samantha James

  She slapped her riding gloves against her thigh, not sure whether to laugh or cry. "My God," she said numbly. "Don't tell me you don't remember!"

  It was less a question than an accusation. Snatches of memory invaded Kane's brain. He recalled her turning his gun on him—that, he decided grimly, was unforgettable. But most of what he remembered was her—the lush feel of her body against his. And he remembered the taste of her mouth trapped beneath his—her lips were like crushed fruit, damp and moist and dewy.

  But Stringer Sam ... all at once the name jarred something inside him. He sucked in a harsh breath.

  It came back in a flash—she wanted him to take her to Sam's hideout.

  He lumbered to his feet none too steadily. "Lady," he said very deliberately, "who said I was going anywhere with you?"

  Abby gritted her teeth. "My name is Abigail—Abigail MacKenzie. And we had a deal, Kane, so don't try to weasel your way out of it now."

  "A deal?" His harsh laugh set her on edge. "That's not the way I remember it."

  "Then think of it this way." Abby was too desperate to heed her words. "You'll be saving a man's life—maybe it'll ease your conscience a little."

  His conscience! A fiery mist of rage swam before his eyes. Who the hell was she to judge him anyway? Kane thought furiously. Why, she was an uppity little brat who'd probably never wanted for a single thing in her life! She didn't know a damn thing about him. She didn't know who he really was , or the reasons behind all that he'd done... Oh, he knew her kind, people who had their noses in the air, who'd convinced themselves they were so much better than their fellow man—people who thought they could push everyone else aside and no one would be the wiser. Well, to hell with people like her, he thought savagely. To hell with her!

  He stared at her coldly. "You're a fool if you think I'll take you to Sam," he stated flatly. "Good Lord, woman, I don't think you realize what kind of man Stringer Sam is!"

  "Oh, but I do! I told you last night, Kane. He came to the Diamondback after Dillon—but he killed my father instead." For just an instant, pain gouged a gaping wound in her breast. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back, not wanting this man to see her cry.

  But Kane didn't see. His mouth compressed into a thin line. Dillon again, he thought scathingly. She'd talked about someone named Dillon last night— Dillon and some kind of vendetta.

  His lip curled, his tone a flat, staccato rhythm. "Listen, Abigail, and listen good. A woman with your looks shouldn't have to look far to find another man primed and ready to warm that sweet little behind. Just because you don't like sleeping alone doesn't mean I'm willing to risk my hide to save his."

  Abby gaped. What was he saying? Why, it didn't bear thinking about! But all at once her spine went ramrod straight. Oh, but she was right. It was just like a man, she thought furiously—just like him!—to think with that part of his anatomy.

  "No, Kane," she began heatedly. "You listen. It's not like that at all, do you hear? I don't know what hole you crawled out of. I don't care to know! But I'll thank you to keep your crude little judgments to yourself. I'll do whatever I have to in order to save Dillon, is that understood? Furthermore, any other woman would do exactly the same if Stringer Sam were after her—"

  She never knew exactly what halted her speech. Perhaps it had something—everything?—to do with the knowledge that Kane was under a grave misconception about her and Dillon.

  "Her what?" Kane's eyes had narrowed suspiciously. "Exactly what is this Dillon to you anyway?" His hand shot out and wrapped around her arm, jerking her close.

  Abby bit her lip. She'd told Kane last night that Dillon was her brother, hadn't she? Hadn't she? Maybe not, or he wouldn't be making such outrageous insinuations.

  Her breath came jerkily. He frightened her, she realized dazedly. Oh, not because he was an outlaw. Simply because he was so—so overwhelmingly male! So close to him, trapped against the heat of his body, her mind displayed a vivid recall. She remembered the way he had looked at her last night, his eyes glittering with heat. She remembered the intimate glide of his tongue against hers, the shocking sensation of lean, plundering fingers shaping themselves to her breast.

  She swallowed, unable to tear her gaze from those dark features that hovered so closely above her own. A bristly shadow hazed the hollow of his cheeks and jaw. His lips were thin and cruel. She was tall for a woman, her body sleek and toned and far from weak, but Kane made her feel that way. And it was then that the craziest notion spun through her mind. If Kane helped her find Dillon, they might be alone for days on end ... somehow she had to protect herself.

  "Well?" His voice was rough with demand. His lips twisted into a sneer. "I admit, I'm curious now. What the hell is so goddamned special about your precious Dillon? What's he got that every other man doesn't have?"

  Abby's heart was thudding with thick, heavy strokes. She felt her lips move, though she'd have sworn she spoke not a word.

  "He's my husband," she blurted.

  Chapter 4

  Her husband. Her husband. Kane stared at her, stunned, dumbfounded and then deeply, furiously angry, not only with himself but with her.

  His blistering curse scalded her ears and made her jump. She struggled to free herself. He let her go only to snatch back her left hand at the last instant. "Where's your ring?"

  Abby prayed he wouldn't feel her quaking. As a child, she'd discovered she was a horrible liar. When Pa and Dillon had laughed at her display of the bonnet Emily Dawson had given her, she'd promptly thrown it into the horse trough. When Pa found it, she'd lied and told him she didn't know how it got there. Pa hadn't scolded or thrashed her, but Abby was aware that he knew she'd lied. She'd felt so utterly guilty that she'd never lied to him again.

  But Kane wasn't Pa. If his forbidding expression were anything to go by, bodily harm was a definite possibility.

  "I—I had to get you out of the Silver Spur somehow. I didn't think you'd go upstairs with me if you knew I was married. I took it off last night so you wouldn't see it!" Her cry was wild. She tugged furiously at her hand.

  He let her go so suddenly that she stumbled and fell to her knees. "You scheming little bitch," he said through clenched teeth. Her half-shy, tentative manner last night was all an act! Fire blazed within him. What a fool he'd been! He'd actually believed the story she'd concocted, that her father had died and she was alone in the world, with no one to turn to, nowhere to go. He had believed and sympathized. He was convinced she was an innocent—a virgin!—brought low by life's vengeance.

  Two long strides took him past her into the stall. He spared her no glance as he heaved his saddle onto Midnight's back.

  Abby lurched to her feet. "Kane! What are you doing? Where are you going?"

  "Ought to be pretty damn obvious, even to you, Abigail. I'm leaving, something I should have done the minute I set eyes on you."

  His tone was icily distant. She interpreted all too accurately the iron cast of his profile, the rigid set of his shoulders.

  Inwardly Abby was devastated; outwardly she was as determined as ever. "You can't!" She clutched at his arm, as if that alone could keep him there.

  He shook her off easily, pausing only to slant her an infuriatingly superior smile. "Lady," he drawled, "you can't stop me."

  Later she would wonder what possessed her. Later she was aghast at her own daring. But one second her hand trembled slightly at the waist of her riding skirt. The next her delicate little chin came up ... and so did the barrel of his Colt.

  "That's where you're wrong, Kane." She raised the gun, praying he wouldn't test her. He might be an outlaw—he might be the scum of the earth!— but God alone knew she couldn't shoot him in cold blood.

  He half-turned. The flicker in his eyes told her he'd spotted the gun but his arrogant smile never wavered. "Go ahead, sweetheart. If you're so goddamned anxious to show me how well you shoot, here's your chance."

  Grabbing Midnight's reins, he jammed his hat on his head and walked
past her, bold as you please.

  It was a moment before Abby's sagging jaw clamped shut. She followed him outside where dawn's shimmering sunshine heralded another glorious day. Abby alternately cursed and prayed as Kane mounted his horse and set off down the deserted street. The blast of gunfire shattered the early-morning air, whizzing over his left shoulder.

  Horse and rider never slowed their pace.

  The next shot took the hat right off his head.

  The pair stopped. Kane flung his leg over the pommel and leaped to the ground. His long legs breached the distance between them. Hands on his hips, he ground to a halt with the gun mere inches away from his chest. A fierce scowl blackened his expression. "Do you really think that's going to make me change my mind?" he demanded.

  Abby stared up into those dark, hard features, quaking from head to toe. In that instant, she cast pride and dignity to the wind. Later there might be regrets—for now, there were none.

  She swallowed painfully, her throat clogged tight with fear and desperation. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a thread of sound. "I-I need you, Kane. You're the only one who can help me find Dillon, the only one." The barrel of the gun wavered. "I'll give you anything, Kane, anything you want. Please help me," she whispered. "Please."

  That one word was his undoing. Kane went utterly still, his gaze locked on the glitter of tears she tried to hide but couldn't. Her eyes were huge, her soft mouth tremulous. The hopelessness of that look clamped tight around his heart and doggedly refused to let go.

  He swore silently, disgusted with both himself and her. He'd thought himself immune to all that was decent and caring. He'd thought he was so hardened and embittered that not even tears could sway him.

  He was wrong.

  A bitter ache scored his gut. All at once he couldn't forget the words she had flung at him earlier. You'll be saving a man's life . . . Maybe it'll ease your conscience a little.

  Kane had long ago convinced himself his conscience had died along with Lorelei. Yet wasn't his damnable conscience why he'd come here in the first place? Why he'd decided to leave his life of lawlessness behind and start over?

  Hell, he thought disgustedly. He was a fool, even contemplating something as foolish as this. If he had any brains, he'd turn around, ride out of town and forget he'd ever set eyes on this stubborn little beauty.

  He couldn't. Damn her blasted angelic face and helpless feminine ploys to hell and back, but he couldn't.

  In one fluid motion he knocked the gun from her grasp and hauled her up against him. "You're pretty damned determined to shoot me," he said tightly. "But tell me this, Abigail. Who the hell's gonna take you to Stringer Sam if you do?"

  At first Abby didn't comprehend, but then she realized... she'd won. She didn't know how she knew, but somehow she did.

  She stared up into that rough, lean face. His mouth was a grim slash, his jaw prickly and dark with a day's growth of beard. At that moment, no one had ever looked dearer. "You'll help me?"

  His gaze scoured her from head to toe. "It's no trip for a woman," he stated. "You'd be better off staying here and letting me go find your precious Dillon."

  And take the chance he'd ride off and never come back? "No!" Her objection was immediate and strenuous.

  His tone was as harsh as his expression. "I don't have time to coddle a spoiled brat who can't stand the thought of not having her way."

  His insult slipped right by her. Panic leaped riotously within her; he looked and sounded utterly unyielding.

  Her protest was as vehement as his. "You've never even seen Dillon! How could you possibly find him?"

  "I can handle it, don't worry. If you tell me what he looks like, I'll find him. Besides, you said Sam's almost a day ahead of us. Having you along will just slow me down."

  Abby bristled at his high-handed arrogance. It was just like a man to think that simply by virtue of his sex, he was both mentally and physically superior. She had grown up with a brother who treated her like she was a fragile porcelain doll, and she certainly didn't need it from this man. Just like Dillon, he was overbearing and overconfident.

  "I'll have you know," she began stiffly, her spine poker-iron straight, "I've been riding since I was three years old. I can rope and brand and track a lost calf as well as any ranch hand. And I shoot better than most, something that might come in handy. I don't think you'll find me a liability."

  A liability? Kane snorted. What he found her was a pain in the goddamned ass.

  Her chin lifted. She faced him with a bravado that was more than a little feigned. "I have no intention of letting you go after Dillon without me. Like it or not, we're stuck with each other."

  He glared at her. "I don't like it," he told her, his tone downright nasty. "I don't like it one damn bit, so let's get things straight right now—I won't play nursemaid. The sooner we find your precious husband, the sooner I can be rid of you. And believe me, sweetheart, that can't happen too soon."

  He stalked to where his hat lay on the dusty earth. He grabbed it and jammed it on his head, then retraced his steps back to his horse—but not before he'd bent to retrieve his gun where it lay near a clump of dry grass.

  The stinging retort she'd been about to deliver died on her lips. Sunlight glinted off the eight-inch barrel of the Colt as he turned to face her. Her ire forgotten, she watched as he slid it into the holster tied to his thigh. Rampant challenge glowed in the burning gray gaze that met hers, as if he expected her protest.

  But Abby wasn't about to protest, either vocally or otherwise. Oh, no, she hadn't mistaken the glittering challenge in his eyes.

  She'd managed to sneak his gun out from beneath his nose once.

  She wouldn't be so lucky again.

  Without a word she turned and headed into the stable. She knew Kane watched as she saddled Sonny. She tried hard not to think about the fact that she was about to ride off with a man who might be every bit as unsavory and dangerous as Stringer Sam.

  He'd said he would help her. She had no choice but to trust him—trust him and pray he wouldn't shoot her in the back the instant her back was turned.

  The thought was scarcely comforting.

  "Where are we headed?"

  It was several hours later. The question earned her nothing but a dark, impatient look. "Well?" she demanded when he said nothing. "Since I'm paying you, don't you think I have a right to know?"

  His lips thinned in impatience, which made Abby feel like a fly in his soup and spurred her indignation. "North," came his barely discernible grunt.

  She felt like gnashing her teeth. "I'm quite aware of that," she said with false pleasantness. "Would you mind telling me how far north?"

  Obviously he did mind, but he obliged nonetheless. "Maybe three, four hundred miles," he said brusquely.

  Abby gasped. "That's clear across the Territory! Why, that'll take us almost week to get there!"

  "If we're lucky," he said curtly. "And that's all I'm going to say. Believe me, sister, the less you know about Sam's hideout, the better. I don't think I need to remind you Rowdy Roy was killed for knowing."

  Those words chilled her to the bone. It was little wonder Abby was disinclined to engage in further conversation.

  They continued westward, traveling along the flank of the Laramie Mountains. To the east, rugged peaks timbered with alpine fir and pine stretched skyward. She and Kane did their best to ignore each other, keeping their eyes trained anywhere but on the other.

  Although Abby was used to spending long hours in the saddle, the hours without sleep last night had taken their toll. By late afternoon she was convinced the day would never end.

  Not long after, her eyelids began to droop. She must have dozed, for she jerked awake with a start. Her gaze swung almost guiltily to Kane, only to find knowing eyes already fixed upon her. His mouth was slanted in a sardonic smile, if the twisting of his lips could be called that.

  Kane reined in his horse and glanced around. The terrain sloped into a ge
ntle valley a hundred yards distant. Late afternoon sunlight mirrored the waters of a small lake surrounded by tall cottonwoods. Beyond, sun-baked plains rolled and dipped endlessly. He inclined his head and gave a terse nod. "We'll stop there for the night."

  She immediately straightened. "But it's still light out," she protested. "We can go on for another hour—"

  "You won't last another hour and we both damn well know it."

  Abby gritted her teeth. She'd thought Dillon's language was bad, but she had the feeling Kane could teach him a lesson or two. It was on the tip of her tongue to retort that, unlike him, there had been no alcohol-induced sleep last night, but something held her back. "I'm just a little tired," she said stiffly.

  "So am I, sweetheart. So like I said, we'll camp there for the night." He gave a tug on the reins and nudged his horse into a trot. Not once did he look back to see that Abby followed; Abby wasn't sure if she should be indignant or relieved.

  He led the way to a small clearing near the lake. Grass and shrubs grew thick and green near the water. Tall, stately trees crowded the shoreline. Abby reined in when Kane dropped to the ground. He began to stride back toward her but Abby quickly dismounted on her own, declining his help even before he could offer it. Kane stopped short; she didn't glimpse the tightening of his mouth.

  He lifted his chin toward her saddlebags. "Got anything to eat in there?"

  Abby nodded. Before she left the ranch last night, she had Dorothy pack some provisions. "I've got biscuits and beans and enough dried meat for three days or so," she told him. "After that, we'll either have to hunt or stop somewhere to buy more provisions."

  He took charge of unsaddling the horses and settling them in for the night. Abby busied herself with gathering branches for a fire, but her gaze strayed to Kane again and again. She watched him heave the saddle from Sonny's back.

  An undeniable air of danger surrounded him, she thought with a shiver. What did you expect? chided a voice in her head. He's an outlaw, a renegade. It was strange, though. She wasn't precisely frightened, yet she was distinctly uneasy.