Once An Outlaw

by Diana Bold

  He brushed a lock of hair from her eyes, tracing her features with a tenderness he’d forgotten he possessed. God, it felt good to have someone to take care of.

  His warmth slowly took the chill from the girl’s skin. Soon, she was shivering against him, making soft, incoherent sounds as she snuggled even closer. He bit his lip and endured the sweet torture, wondering if it would have been easier to fall down in the snow and let the blizzard take him.

  * * * * *

  Bethany dreamed she was safe and sound in her husband David’s strong arms, before his illness had left him rail thin and weak as a kitten. He cradled her against him, spoon fashion, his warm chest pressed against her back, his arm around her waist, holding her tight. She’d been cold for so long, but now she was toasty warm.

  With a sleepy sigh, she snuggled closer, wishing she never had to awaken, wishing the dream could go on forever. It seemed an eternity since she’d last been touched, and she reveled in the texture of his bare skin next to hers.

  His breath hitched as she shifted against his groin, letting the hot, heavy weight of his erection settle between the rounded curves of her bottom. Even at his healthiest, she couldn’t remember David ever being quite so… large.

  Pressing his lips against her neck, he trailed his hand up her midsection before cupping her breast. “Christ, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice ragged with need. “Please tell me you’re awake.”

  It was wrong, all wrong. The voice didn’t belong to David, nor did the beard-stubbled chin brushing her neck. The hand was too big, and so was the—

  Wrenching away, she scrambled to her knees, then gasped at the sudden pain streaking through her calf. Clasping her wounded leg, she glanced wildly around, taking in the fire, the cave, and the naked outlaw who’d held her.

  His bare chest gleamed in the flickering light, and his dark hair brushed his wide shoulders. Even through her terror, she couldn’t help noticing that his body was a work of art; all lean muscles and bronzed skin. As she stared, he covered himself with the blanket she’d dislodged, hiding his arousal.

  Swallowing, she forced herself to meet his intense blue gaze. “What happened? Why am I here with you?”

  He shrugged and looked away. “The blizzard got worse. I found this cave, but I couldn’t stay here knowing you wouldn’t make it through the night. So I went back for you.”

  He came back for me. All she remembered was the biting cold, and the certainty she was going to freeze to death. She’d been so numb, unable to fight sleep any longer.

  Her fear seeped away, leaving amazed confusion. “You saved my life.”

  “I couldn’t leave you there. And I’m sorry for this…” He waved a hand at the pallet beside him. “But I couldn’t think of any other way to warm you up.”

  She glanced down at her leg and saw that he’d also rebandaged her wound. “Thank you. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

  “There’s no need.” He pushed himself to a sitting position and handed her one of the blankets. “It’s the first decent thing I’ve done in years.”

  She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and wondered what to make of him. Should she be grateful or terrified? “What’s your name?”

  “Zach,” he answered, seeming as baffled by her actions as she was by his. “Zach Price.”

  “Bethany Sinclair.”

  “Bethany.” He gave her a tentative smile. “Nice name. Soft and sweet, just like you.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she glanced away. She didn’t know what to make of his compliment, given the fact she’d lain in his arms just moments ago. He’d held her to keep her warm, but she couldn’t stop remembering how nice it had felt to be warm and desired once again.

  “Can you pass me my pants? Beside you. On that rock.”

  Nodding, she reached for the wool trousers he’d stretched out to dry beside her dress and cloak her dress and cloak. “They’re still a bit damp,” she apologized, handing them over.

  Their hands brushed, and her gaze flew to his, awareness skittering up and down her spine. She’d never been alone with a man other than her husband, David. And this man… this beautiful outlaw, had no reason to behave himself.

  “It’s all right. A little chill might be good for me right now.” Giving her a pointed look, he struggled to pull the wet wool up over his lean hips.

  His reference to his blatant arousal alarmed her, but within moments he’d accomplished his task and was on his feet, adding another piece of wood to the fire. “There’s some food over there by the wall, and I think I have enough wood to see us through another day. By then the storm should be over, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “I won’t tell anyone which way you’ve gone,” she assured him, crossing the cave to where the sack lunches were stacked against the wall. “Not after all you’ve done for me.”

  “I appreciate that, darlin’. They’ll catch up to me sooner or later, but I don’t intend to make it easy for them.”

  She shivered, remembering the last time he’d called her by the sweet endearment, when his hand had been on her breast and every inch of him had been pressed intimately against her. Forcing the thought away, she grabbed two of the bags and moved back toward the fire. The cave sheltered them from the wind, but it was far from warm.

  “Would you like something to eat?” She passed him one of the bags and then peered inside her own, finding an apple, a piece of chocolate cake wrapped in waxed paper, and a ham sandwich. Her stomach rumbled, and she wondered what time it was. Midnight, at least.

  They ate in silence, but she felt him watching her. His intense regard made it difficult to swallow the dry sandwich. She wished they had something to drink but figured if they got desperate, they could always melt some snow.

  The long night loomed before her, and she decided that finding something to drink was the least of her worries.

  Chapter Three

  As Zach ate his meal, he watched Bethany across the small fire. He couldn’t figure her out. Why hadn’t she run screaming in terror? He was a felon, a murderer, yet she’d treated him as though he were the preacher come for Sunday supper.

  Christ, she’d been like heaven in his arms, pushing against him so sweetly, cradling the rigid length of his cock between the soft curves of her ass as though she’d wanted him there. He’d kissed her neck and cupped her breast and almost came on the spot.

  It had been so long… In fact, he hadn’t been with a woman since his wife, Hannah, had been killed. He’d made himself crazy in prison, trying to remember the last time they’d made love. Had it been a day before her death, or a week? He should remember the last time, but he couldn’t.

  Forcing thoughts of Hannah away, he concentrated once again on his companion. He’d done a lot of bad things in his life, but he figured planning how to seduce this sweet girl ranked right up there with the murders he’d committed. Higher, really, since the men he’d killed were rapists and killers and had deserved to die.

  But if he must burn for his sins, he decided he might as well commit one that was worth it. Was it so wrong to try and grab a few moments of tenderness and bliss before he went to ground again, hunted like the animal he’d become?

  Finished with his meal, he threw the paper sack into the fire, watching the flames kick up for as second as they devoured it. “How’s your leg?”

  She gave him a startled glance. “It throbs. But I don’t think it’s bleeding anymore.”

  “Good. I worried when I saw your bandage had soaked through.”

  She shivered a bit and drew the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I’m still cold. But I feel much better now that I’ve eaten.”

  Her words gave him the opening he was looking for. “We should try to get some sleep. If we lie beside each other and share the blankets, we should stay warm even if the fire goes out.”

  “Can I trust you?” Her imploring gaze made him feel like the biggest cad who’d ever lived. “Promise me I can trust you, Zach.”

>   Shit. It had been an eternity since someone had trusted him, since someone had believed there was even an ounce of goodness in him. “Yeah,” he mumbled, knowing her trust was the one thing he couldn’t betray. “You can trust me.”

  She gave him a tentative smile and remade the pallet, smoothing the heavy blankets until they were neat. Blushing, she slid beneath the top three. With a sigh, he got to his feet, wishing he could take off the damp trousers. But they would serve as a necessary shield, so he supposed he could bear the discomfort.

  He stoked the fire then crawled into bed beside her. An entire foot of space yawned between them. For endless moments neither of them moved, and the crackling flames sounded loud in the tense silence.

  “When I woke up in your arms, I thought you were my husband, David.” She turned to face him in the flickering light. “He died a year ago. Of tuberculosis. That’s why we moved to Colorado. The doctors said the air would be good for his lungs.”

  Hearing the pain in her voice, he reached out and pulled her into his arms, offering the only comfort he could. “Ah, darlin’, I’m sorry.”

  She snuggled close, as though she’d wanted his arms around her all along. “I’ve missed this. Being so close to someone, close enough to hear a heartbeat. Since David died, I’ve been so cold, so alone.”

  He hugged her tight, her words striking a chord deep within him. “I know. My wife died five years ago.”

  “Were you angry with her?” she asked. “Were you angry with her for leaving you all alone?”

  Zach shook his head in denial. “No, I was angry with myself. For not being there when she needed me.”

  Bethany stared at her handsome companion in the flickering light, stunned by his soft confession. She wondered if he meant his wife had died while he was in prison. Whatever the circumstances, his grief was real. The pain in his eyes convinced her he’d once loved a woman with fierce devotion.

  With each passing moment, she found it harder to believe he was a killer. Though she knew it was foolish, she longed to believe he was a good man. Reaching up, she traced his lean jaw, discovering the dark stubble shadowing his beautiful face was surprisingly soft.

  “Don’t blame yourself. I’m sure she knew how much you loved her.”

  He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against her palm. “Did she? I didn’t even know myself until she was gone.”

  She inched closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, only to shift back when her feet encountered his damp trousers. He couldn’t be comfortable, and she knew he was enduring the cold in order to protect her modesty. She bit her lip, wondering if she dare suggest he take them off.

  What harm could it do? If he meant to have her, one layer of damp material wouldn’t stop him. And she didn’t want him to become ill. She didn’t care what laws he’d broken; he’d saved her life, and she didn’t want him to go back to jail.

  “Your trousers are soaked,” she murmured, gathering her courage. “You’ll get sick if you don’t take them off.”

  He opened his eyes, surprise shimmering in those deep blue depths. “Aren’t you afraid of me?”

  “You said I could trust you,” she reminded him, feeling reckless. For some reason, she did trust him. So far, he’d been far more of a gentleman than she had any right to expect.

  “Thank you, darlin’. You don’t know how much that means to me.” He caught her hand in his and pressed a swift kiss to the center of her palm, sending a wave of heat up her arm to center with pulsating urgency in the pit of her stomach. “Would you turn around?”

  She rolled on her side, facing the fire as he sat up and fumbled with his trousers. The cold air brushed her backside as the blankets shifted, but he finished quickly and then pulled her against his chest, holding her tight as shivers wracked his big body.

  “Much better,” he whispered, his breath warm against her neck. “Is this all right? For me to hold you this way?”

  She nodded, too overwhelmed by his warmth and strength to object. He held her as though she was precious to him. As though he cared for her. Tears stung her eyes as she realized how much she’d needed this. To be held, to be touched, to be treated as a flesh and blood woman after so many years of being a sick man’s nurse and then a dead man’s widow.

  “Do you know what I missed most during all those years in prison?” He brushed a few strands of her hair away from her cheek, his touch gentle and unthreatening. “I missed having someone to talk to. I missed those conversations Hannah and I had when we were alone in bed together, after all the chores of the day were through. Would you talk to me for a while, darlin’?”

  Her heart melted. His soft admission touched her deeply. “Of course. But I don’t know what to say.”

  “Tell me about yourself, your family, the weather. Hell, I don’t care. I just want to listen to your sweet voice and pretend…” He trailed off, then gave an uncomfortable laugh.

  He wanted to pretend she was his wife. The words hung unspoken between them, but she wasn’t upset. She could do this for him. It was the least she could do, given all he’d done for her.

  “I grew up in Boston,” she began, her words slow and halting. “My father owns a shipping company. My mother died when I was very young.”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured as he ran his fingers through her hair and smoothed away the tangles with painstaking patience. It felt wonderful, and she struggled to keep from sighing in sheer bliss.

  “I was three when she passed away,” she continued, trying to keep her mind focused on the small talk he’d requested. “I have an older brother, Samuel. He runs Father’s company now. And my younger sister, Caroline, is married to an Army captain and lives in Austin. I’m on my way to visit her for a while.”

  “How long has it been since you last saw your sister?”

  “Goodness, five years or more. I haven’t seen her since David and I moved to Colorado.”

  “He was sick for a long time?”

  “For so long I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t.” It was true. She couldn’t remember the laughing young man she’d fallen in love with. He’d been replaced by the bitter, dying man who’d done his best to make her life as miserable as his own. “We were married for seven years, but he became sick after the first one.”

  “You never had any children?”

  She shook her head. “I wanted a baby, especially when I realized I was going to lose David. But it never happened. I think I’m barren.”

  He trailed his hand down her arm and let it rest upon her belly. “You’re still young. Maybe it was him, not you.”

  “Maybe,” she whispered, choking with despair over all the things she’d lost. “But what man would want me now? I’m almost thirty.”

  “Closer to twenty-five, I’d guess. And I don’t know what man wouldn’t want you, Bethany. You’re so damn pretty I’m about to die from wanting you.” Her name was a gentle caress from his lips. He shifted, and she gasped as he pressed against her, showing her what he meant.

  Sudden panic streaked through her, and she tried to move away, but he caught her easily, holding her as she struggled, his breath harsh and erratic in her ear. “Easy now. Don’t run away. I won’t hurt you. I would never do anything you didn’t want me to do.”

  That was the problem, she realized as she stilled. She feared she wanted the same things he did. And no one would ever have to know. She’d never see him again, come morning.

  For long moments they remained frozen, locked in an intimate embrace, while crazy thoughts raced through her mind. He’d been in prison for years, she reminded herself. Years without a woman to hold or touch. Of course, he wanted her. He’d have wanted any woman in this situation.

  But she wanted him, too. She wanted the freedom to run her hands across his beautiful, lean body. She wanted to touch a man who was strong and healthy, one who was capable of bringing her pleasure and respite from the sorrow and sickness that had become her life.

  “Are you all right?” His voice was
a rough whisper in her ear. “Do you want me to let you go? Because I will, if you want me to.”

  And those words sealed her fate. He was stronger than her; she was entirely at his mercy. He didn’t have to ask; he could have taken. But because he’d offered her the choice, she chose him.

  She shifted onto her back and stared up at him, hoping she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life. Still, she had to know one thing before she went any further. “Those men you killed—did you have a good reason?”

  He gave her a long, searching look. “Do you consider vengeance a good reason?”

  “Vengeance?” She cupped his cheek with her palm. “What happened to you?”

  “I had a small homestead, nothing special except I owned the rights to the only good water source for miles around. A rancher tried to buy it from me, but I refused. He started sending hired guns to pressure me. They killed my stock, burned my outbuildings, and even threatened my life. I’d come through four years of hell, fighting in the war, and that little plot of land meant the world to me. I wasn’t going to give it up without a fight.”

  He scrubbed his hand over his chin, tension riddling his lean frame. She sensed it had been a long time since he’d talked about this. In fact, this might be the first time he ever had.

  “Go on,” she coaxed.

  “I put off taking my cattle to market for as long as I could. But I needed the money, so I had to go. I thought they’d come after me, kill the rest of my stock on the trail, but I arrived without incident. I didn’t realize my mistake until I got home… I never thought they’d go after my family, but while I was gone, they raped and killed my wife, Hannah. They shot my little son, Jeremiah. They took everything I ever loved.” His voice trembled with emotion. “I went to the authorities, but no one would listen. The rancher owned the local sheriff. So… I took matters into my own hands.”

  “Oh, Zach.” She ached for what he’d been through, couldn’t imagine the pain of knowing he’d failed to protect his family.