Outlaw Heart

by Samantha James

  On the washstand was a pitcher that had once been painted with dainty pink flowers but was now faded and cracked. She poured a generous amount of tepid water into the washbasin, grimacing a little as she splashed it onto her face and arms. She nearly tripped on something as she tinned to reach for a towel.

  It was the shredded remnants of her chemise. Beside it were her drawers.

  Hot color stole into her cheeks. Abby was heartily glad she was alone. She'd changed after Kane had left last night. She didn't fully understand the significance of the damp, sticky spot that had stained her drawers. But she knew only that it had something to do with what had happened between them. Picking them up, she scrubbed them hurriedly in the washbasin. Wringing them out before she stuffed them in her saddlebag, she glanced at the underclothes she wore, wryly concluding they had better find Dillon soon—the ones she wore were her last remaining set.

  Kane was already there when she ventured downstairs a few minutes later. Her mind strayed to the room upstairs—and her last sight as she'd closed the door. The tumbled bedclothes were evidence of all that had transpired there last night. Meeting his gaze was the hardest thing she'd ever done. One glance at his black scowl convinced her his disposition hadn't improved. Abby thought longingly of breakfast but decided not to say anything. She suspected neither of them were in the mood for an argument.

  It struck her as they left the hotel that he had yet to say a word to her since she'd come downstairs. She raised her chin, resolving to dismiss the memory of last night; it was glaringly apparent Kane already had.

  She couldn't. Dear God, it was all she could think about. The memory muddied her thoughts throughout the morning. Her insides tightened every time she recalled their torrid exchange last night.

  Kane was right. She could have called a halt to it but she hadn't—and he was convinced she was married to another man yet!

  Not that it had stopped him, though. She stared out to where golden plains bowed to the heavens, aware of an odd heaviness in the pit of her stomach. She'd thought no man would dare lay a hand on a married woman.

  But Kane had dared. He'd dared much more.

  And she hadn't lifted a finger to stop him. No wonder he'd branded her a tease! Indeed, stopping him had been the furthest thing from her mind. She wanted it to go on and on. She wanted to feel his mouth on hers, draining her of strength and will. She wanted to feel his tongue in her mouth, his hands on her breasts, brushing the crests with callused fingertips.

  Recalling the feel of his mouth on her breasts made her go weak all over. It wasn't so much the intimacy of his caresses, but what he'd said that had broadened her awareness considerably. Despite the fact she'd secretly yearned for it, she'd been a little shocked when he had so boldly voiced his urges aloud.

  He'd called her beautiful... and he'd said he wanted her. Abby had never thought of herself as either beautiful or desirable. Oh, Pa had always said she was pretty and sweet, but that was different.

  She'd been so convinced she hated Kane. But— oh, sweet Lord—she had liked what he'd done. Heat welled up within her as she thought of her hand, trapped against that part of him. Maybe it was shameless. Maybe God would strike her dead for such sinfulness. But she'd liked knowing he wanted her in that way. She'd liked knowing he needed her.

  He'd been vulnerable last night. And to a man like Kane, that was a weakness he couldn't stand.

  Something had changed, she realized with a shiver. Everything had changed.

  He was as short-tempered as ever. The jutting angle of his jaw proclaimed his disinclination for conversation, but he was quick to snap at her the few times she lagged behind. Abby bit her tongue more than once throughout the long morning. His disposition, she decided indignantly, was sour enough to curdle fresh milk.

  They soon approached the foothills of the mountains. Her irritation grew with every mile. Kane showed no sign of softening whatsoever.

  Mid-afternoon the trail brought them to a tree-sheltered sanctuary. Abby caught her breath in delight. The crystal waters of a mountain stream darted alongside the trail, brightened by a profusion of wildflowers on the opposite bank. A cluster of lofty cottonwood trees stretched high overhead. They beckoned temptingly, like a sweet treat to a child. Abby reined in Sonny.

  "Let's stop here."

  Kane shifted in his saddle. The creak of leather was his only pronouncement, but his expression conveyed more clearly than words his displeasure.

  Abby bravely tilted her chin. "I'm bushed," she announced. "And I can't go another mile without eating." With that she swung down from Sonny, hauled out a handful of beef jerky from her saddlebags and marched over to the canopied world beneath the trees.

  The temperature was much cooler beneath the trees. She sighed in sheer delight, casting a half-smug, half-defiant glance toward her nemesis. It would have been heaven indeed, except that Kane was still glaring at her.

  He dismounted but made no move to join her. Her lips tightened when he abruptly turned away, as if dismissing her. She popped another piece of jerky into her mouth, determined to enjoy it in spite of him.

  She watched as he approached the stream. He bent low for a long cool drink, then straightened. Heedless of her presence, he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it from his shoulders, dropping it carelessly on the ground beside him. Abby chewed more slowly. Try though she might, she couldn't drag her gaze away from the sight of his naked torso.

  His back was long and lean like the rest of him, cleanly halved by the shallow groove of his spine. His skin was sleek and sun-browned, like oiled leather. He knelt, splashing water on his face and chest. Abby swallowed, unwillingly fascinated by the rippling undulation of muscle beneath his skin.

  The jerky now tasted like a lump of cold ash in her mouth.

  The muscles in her stomach quivered. All at once she was burning inside, a burning that had nothing to do with the sun blazing down overhead. Oh, she'd managed to keep it at bay throughout the morning, but seeing him like this, she could do so no longer.

  Why? screamed a voice in her mind. Why, whenever she looked at him, did she experience this restless ache inside? Why should he be the one to make her feel like this? Why, why, why? Abby didn't understand it.

  She didn't understand him.

  Nor did she understand why he was still so short with her. He'd shown no signs of softening, not once throughout this endless day. He was angry about last night, that was something Abby was almost certain of. Did he blame her because she hadn't stopped him? An awful knot swelled in the pit of her stomach. Did he think she was a tart, allowing him to touch her as he had? The questions swept through her mind like the winds across the plains.

  But Kane didn't blame her. He was far too busy blaming himself for what had happened last night.

  Guilt gnawed at him. Guilt—and shame. Always before he'd managed to steer clear of married women. It was a hell of a lot safer that way. And it had been different with Lorelei. She'd been married when he'd hired on at her husband's ranch. But within a month her husband was dead. He hadn't laid a hand on her until long after that.

  But his feelings when he was around Abby scared the living daylights out of him. Sure, he'd been drunk last night, but that had only sharpened his desire for her—and robbed him of his restraint. He'd been only a hair away from taking her the way the masculine dictates of his body had urged. He had the sneaking suspicion she wasn't aware of that. Maybe she was no virgin, but she was hardly experienced when it came to men.

  She was dangerous, he decided blackly. Dangerous in a way he didn't fully understand.

  He'd tried to forget her. He'd tried to empty his mind of all feeling. But with a mouth that promised heaven, and a body that promised the road to hell would be paved with pleasure, how the devil could he ignore her? He snorted, disgusted with himself. Shit, even when they argued, all he could think about was how those soft lips felt trapped beneath his, how it would feel to make love to her—really make love to her. And his body had a way of remi
nding him all too keenly just how much he longed to do exactly that.

  His nostrils flared. His fingers curled into his palms. Oh, yes, he'd discovered last night just how very much he wanted the lady. He could almost feel her warm and pliant against him once more, the fresh scent of her hair, the delicious weight of her breasts against his chest, her belly notched against the part of him that needed her the most.

  With a muffled curse he flung another handful of water on his face and head, as if to cool his rampaging thoughts.

  If he had any sense, he'd leave while he still had the chance. Yet what about Abby? jeered a voice in his head. She was wild and headstrong—

  Christ, she'd lied to him again! But despite her fiery stubbornness, she was still a woman—and as much as she deserved it, he could hardly abandon a woman.

  He shoved himself upright. From the corner of his eye he spied her. She rose from her spot beneath the tree. Her riding skirt hugged the curve of her hips, swirling gently around the tops of her boots.

  He stiffened as she strode toward him. His gaze fell to where she'd unbuttoned several buttons of her shirt, revealing a triangular patch of skin that glowed like golden honey. Desire flared hot and bright, stark and primitive. He wanted her all over again. He wanted her so much it hurt inside.

  She halted directly before him. Doing his best to ignore her, Kane bent and picked up his shirt. He didn't miss the way her soft lips compressed.

  He slipped his shirt over his shoulders, the movement as lazy as his tone. "Something on your mind?"

  Abby straightened her spine. "You are," she said evenly.

  He laughed, a sound that held no mirth. "Why, sugar, I'm flattered."

  She confronted him with a cool stare. "Really? Is that why you haven't ventured a single word all morning, except to snap at me? Why you've yet to look me full in the face even once?" She drew on a thin thread of courage. "I—I see no reason for it to continue, Kane."

  "What! You don't like the way I behave? Honey, you hired me as a guide, remember? I didn't know I was going to have to entertain you."

  Abby gave him a long, slow look. "There's no use in pretending you misunderstand/' she said quietly. "We both know why you're acting this way. Pretending you didn't come to my room last night isn't going to make it go away. It won't make either of us forget." There was a small pause. "Maybe," she continued cautiously, "we should talk about it."

  But Kane didn't want to talk about it. The very thought of his nocturnal visit to her room made him feel foolish and awkward and exposed. So what if he'd been drunk? That was no excuse for what he'd done—for how he'd used her—and he had used her to find the release he hadn't been able to find with Fanny.

  Christ! What did she think of him?

  He didn't want to know. God help him, he didn't.

  His mood grew even more vile. He stared at her, wishing like hell the sun wasn't pouring through her hair, weaving through the strands and turning them to sunburst gold. In that instant, he almost hated her. She was so cool, so calm, while he felt like a runaway range fire.

  "It's funny," he drawled. "But somehow I thought you'd want to forget about it." He rolled his eyes and grimaced. "Instead the lady wants to talk about it!"

  Abby inhaled sharply. He'd placed one hand on his hip, his stance arrogant and overbearing. So. This was the way it was going to be. Oh, but she should have expected sarcasm from him—she had expected it! Lord, but he was infuriating!

  She struggled for a calm she was suddenly far from feeling. "You're the one who seems to be having trouble dealing with it, Kane, not me. And you know what? I think you're angry. With yourself, and with me—not because of what you did, but what you felt."

  His eyes narrowed. "Is that a fact?"

  "It is," she said levelly. "And you know what else? I think you were feeling sorry for yourself last night, Kane. I think you were feeling ... I'm not sure how to put it. Lost, maybe. And very alone. I'd say that's why you went with Fanny, only. .. only you didn't find what it was you wanted with her."

  He scowled. "You don't know the first thing about me!"

  Abby didn't retreat from his thunderous glare. "I think I do. I think you came to my room because—" She faltered, praying he wouldn't see how she was quaking. "—because you wanted to feel needed. Because you're tired of being alone, Kane. Because you finally gave in to the urge to reach out to someone."

  "Don't delude yourself, sugar. I came to your room for one reason only—lust is what it's commonly known. That's a polite way to put it, at that." He gave her a leering once-over. "You just happened to be available."

  Abby drew herself up stiffly. "There's no need to—"

  "Don't," Kane said through lips that barely moved. His eyes narrowed. "Don't even think of preaching to me—because you sure as hell weren't thinking about your husband last night."

  He laughed, the sound cold. "That's right, sugar. I might have been drunk but I wasn't that drunk. It wasn't his name you were panting when I was kissing your breasts—it was mine. And it sounded to me like you were begging for a whole lot more."

  Abby blanched. Dillon. Dear Lord, what would he think if he knew what she'd done? She'd lain almost naked on a bed with a man she hardly knew, a renegade, a criminal. Her heart squeezed. Somehow, it hadn't seemed so wrong.

  Until now.

  Kane was being unforgivably cruel. He was twisting their encounter into something it hadn't been—sordid and distasteful. And all at once she loathed him for making it sound so ugly.

  "I can see you forgot all about your dearly beloved." His lip curled. "Seems to me you were awfully quick to forsake honor and fidelity."

  A slow burn simmered along Abby's veins. "Honor? Fidelity?" She glared her displeasure. "What would a man like you know about either?"

  More than you know. Dear God, Kane thought, more than you know.

  His lips curved into a derisive smile. 'Tell me, sugar. Does Dillon know what a hot little piece you are the minute his back is turned?"

  Her temper sparked like a keg of dynamite. "Oh, you're a fine one," Abby burst out. "First you tell me that I drove him off! Now you're telling me I'm—I'm promiscuous!"

  "What else would you call it when you let me do what I did last night? Jesus, you're married, but that didn't make any difference to you. You were goddamned eager to have me under your skirts, honey. Fact is, I could have spent the whole damn night rutting between those pretty white thighs of yours and you'd have been crying out for more!"

  She paled visibly, for an instant her features utterly stricken. Kane despised himself for putting that look on her face, but moral dilemmas were new to him and he hated it. She was fresh and young and natural, and he couldn't ignore her beauty. Hell! What man could? She made him ache inside, reminding him of everything he'd always wanted but could never have. And yes, it was selfish!—but he resented her for it, and it was this demon inside that made him taunt her so.

  His every word was like a claw sinking into her flesh; the pain was immense. She was grateful when the hurt was replaced by a cold, biting fury. "I'm a fool, Kane, a fool for ever letting you near me. And yes, that's exactly what it would have been—rutting. Because I said it once, and I'm saying it again—you're an animal, Kane, an animal."

  Her voice trembled with the force of her anger. Her only thought was to hurt him as he had hurt her. "You dally with women like Fanny, because no lady will have you!"

  His lips were ominously thin. Abby paid no heed.

  "I'm well aware I shouldn't have let you touch me like you did. But you're just as guilty as I am," she accused, "because you tried to seduce a married woman, and that just proves what kind of man you are—you're rough and unscrupulous and jaded!"

  He reached for her. She batted his hand away.

  "You have no scruples, no concept of decency whatsoever!"

  "Stop it." Though his warning was deadly calm, there was a tempest brewing in his eyes.

  "I won't! You're no good, Kane. You're coarse and vulgar! I k
new it when this whole thing began, but you were my only hope of finding Dillon."

  Their eyes locked in fiery combat, hers defiant, his condemning. "You're lying," he said through his teeth, "the way you lied about who he was."

  "The hell I am! I've put up with you, I've suffered your pawing and your crudeness so you would help me find Dillon." She plunged on recklessly. "But you were right, Kane, you were right! Every time you laid a hand on me I felt dirty and soiled! It makes me cringe to think how I let you touch me. Do you hear? It makes me sick!"

  Kane went rigid. He didn't stop to reason or think, he simply reacted, snagging her by the waist. Abby raised her fists high aloft to pummel his chest but she never got the chance. He seized her wrists and dragged them behind her back, then wrenched her against him.

  His mouth crushed hers. His only intent was to silence her, to subdue her in the only way he knew how. Her opinion of him shouldn't have mattered, but it did. Her feelings about him shouldn't have mattered, but they did, God rot her soul! Damn her, he thought bitterly. Damn her for making him sink even lower than he already was. Damn her for her prodding and goading. Damn her for punching through the hardened shell he'd built around himself.

  Locked in his hold, Abby could only submit. Unlike last night, he demanded no surrender—nor did he allow it. His kiss was devouring and consuming, his teeth raking against hers. Her mind spinning from lack of air, she felt her knees buckle, her limbs weaken as if they were mush.

  Kane felt it too. He tore his mouth from hers, his gaze never leaving hers as she shrank away. She pressed shaking fingers to her lips and stared at him as if he were a creature straight from hell.

  His insides twisted into a sick, ugly knot. "Christ," he said with a shake of his head. His tone was thick with self-disgust. "You're right. I am an animal."

  Too late Abby realized she'd made a terrible blunder—she'd pushed him too far. Time stood still as they stood there, both rigidly immobile. The air was suddenly hot and stifling.

  Her expression both confused and stunned, she drew a deep, tremulous breath. Her hand moved of its own accord, reaching up toward his cheek. "Kane—" she whispered.