Lady Outlaws

by Lady outlaws (NCP) (lit)

  Devon leaned against the doorframe and without the slightest warning he smashed his head back with a thump. Lids squeezed closed he slipped to the floor, and sat.

  At least he hadn’t dashed away. True, he hadn’t come inside with Brandi but he hadn’t run either. This was a good sign, she believed. This was his way of asking for help, help in calming that terrible storm that raged within his tortured heart. She sat down next to him, giving her own sign, one that said she was more than willing to give.

  He took hold of her hand, his thumb stroking her wrist. His throat moved with a heavy swallow. “Seems like I been wrong a lot lately,” he said. “I shouldna got you involved.”

  “I got me involved, Devon,” she assured. “Nothing happens without meaning.”

  He considered this a moment and then sighed, his shoulders raising and falling. “You done seen what I look like. You know how ugly I am.”

  “What happened was ugly. That doesn’t make you ugly.”

  “But I’m scarred,” Devon said, his lips twisting to a grimace.

  Brandi flattened her palm onto Devon’s chest. “That’s true,” she said with softness. “You have a terrible mark, one you have to bear, but it’s what’s in here is that concerns me. The scar in your heart is the one I want to help carry, if you let me.”

  Taking a hold of her hand he pulled it to his lips. “I never believed a woman would want to be with me, cause of ... what’s happened.”

  She inched closer. “Well, you’re wrong. I want to be with you, regardless of what’s happened.”

  Still, he hesitated. After a long pause he straightened and leaned forward to peer into her face. “If I could go back to that night and change one thing, just one, then Jon would be alive today. But we ain’t allowed to change the past, are we?”

  “No,” Brandi said weakly. “I guess not.” Bumps had erupted over her flesh. Her being here was changing destiny in some peculiar way. Devon’s destiny. It was all too complicated to delve into. Now was not the time to explore her part. Now was the time to listen.

  “I thought Trilby was just some togged up gambler, wantin’ a game so he could show off his skills at cheatin’. He had to been cheatin’. No other way he coulda had the whole pot. So I sat in fer a few hands. He was good, but I was better. In a couple of hours I had the pot. I shoulda known. I saw the look in his eyes, a crazed blood-hungry look, but I ignored it.” Devon thumped his head against the wall with a sharp smack. Self-punishment for a past folly. “I even laughed at him. God, how stupid could I be? I made fun of him in front of his friends. Then I left, and he musta figured I went back to the farm. Weren’t hard for him to find out where I lived, but I hadn’t gone right home.”

  Devon darted a glance away from Brandi. The shame of that night was difficult for him, she could tell. And this part was causing his voice to tremble.

  “I spent some of the money I won, across the street.”

  Brandi didn’t have to stretch her imagination to figure out that there had been a ‘sporting’ house across the street. Nor did she care.

  “It was another hour before I started back. The sky was lit up and I knew then there was trouble, but I never connected Trilby till I saw him and three of his cronies ride off. They musta reckoned I was the one inside burnin’ alive to their revenge, but it weren’t me, Brandi. It were Jon.”

  Devon caught a breath and shivered. He lowered his chin, nearly touching his chest. In the dull light of the lamp over their heads she saw a tear glisten on his cheek.

  “I don’t remember runnin’ inside, or the beam that hit me, or where Romy came from, ‘cept he was pullin’ me out. I do remember the screamin’ though. Jon was screamin’ and I couldn’t reach him. I couldn’t get in far enough to save him. Weren’t till later Romy told me the screamin’ wasn’t Jon. It were me. Jon was already dead. And I woulda been dead, too, if Romy hadn’t pulled me out.”

  Another drop fell from his lash, following the path of the former tear. He gulped air to keep from trembling. “I ain’t ever talked to anyone ‘bout that night and here I am spillin’ my guts like I done been shot through.” He threw up his palms, gesturing as though it could all go away. “I can’t talk ‘bout this no more.”

  When Brandi didn’t move, he rolled to one side to get up and if she let him leave, she knew he might never return to her.

  Throwing her weight against his side Brandi bravely grabbed his arms. Each one was tight, manifesting the tension that had been a part of him for too long. “Then don’t talk. But don’t run away either, Devon.”

  He studied her eyes, searching. She let him search. She meant every word.

  “Are you sure you want me?” he said, lips barely moving.

  Slowly she was unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ve traveled a long way to find you, Devon. Farther than you could ever imagine. So yes, I am sure. I’m with you, all the way.”

  The shirt folded back, the scar revealed. Withered, purple skin, pulled tight, void of hair, its roots winding deeply into his heart, scarring not only his body but also his belief in giving love, accepting love. Not only did she carefully study the injury on his flesh, she leaned forward and kissed the spot over his heart, the place the burn seemed to be the worse.

  The chest beneath her lips rose to a sharp intake of breath, as though a paralyzing pain had ripped him from head to toe. Desperate longing bolted from his fingers as he clawed her hair, tipping her face. “My girl,” he said softly.

  Cupping her head with his hands, he lapped hungrily her mouth, sucking breath from her body, life’s breath, which she gladly forfeited.

  No sooner had she managed to take air into her lungs when his arms constricted. She was sinking into his chest, enveloped, engulfed, consumed. All defenses were gone; Brandi had no sense of inhibition. If by melting into this man and completely dissolving she could find one brief second of paradise, then so be it. The light seemed to move. There was no distinction between space and shadow and object. Not until Devon's weight pressed her shoulders down into the bed.

  He swept short strands of hair from her temple. When she licked her lips she tasted salt. He had bathed her not only with a lavish kiss but tears that had come from the depth of his soul.

  The box was wide open and she held the key, an honor she would never betray.

  “I never believed you were real,” he whispered. “I always thought you were only a picture in my dream.”

  What did he mean by that? The pleasures of his touch dismissed all thought. Clever fingers worked free the shirt she wore. Lifting her shoulders, he pulled on the shirt and the white cotton camisole beneath. Automatically her arms rose, not only to get rid of this one last barrier of clothing, but also to welcome the sensation of his bare chest against hers as they lay down on the bed.

  Every hardened muscle in his shoulders flexed as he explored her curves. Fingertips traced the outline of her neck, followed by his lips. She arched to greet his tender suckling as he found her breast, rolling the swollen bud with a fervent tongue. Then the other with the same tenderness. Intoxicated with the abundance of sensations fluttering from his body to hers, she lowered sluggish lids and sighed, fighting the desire to grab him with as much strength as possible and pull him into the ultimate intimacy. But he wanted lingering foreplay. He told her so with every gentle wash of his kiss.

  He needed her body but he needed her love more.

  Strumming his torso like a harp, she prayed he knew that she accepted him. Scars didn’t matter. Not when two lost souls had found each other. Not when time’s supremacy had been broken. Not when love was this strong.

  Fate. Its quiet power had made them ready, each in their own worlds, each ripe for a master plan. When the moment was ready, a flash of lightning tore open time and space. Now fate smiled on its children, writhing within each other’s arms, consolidating what had always been meant to be.

  “Brandi-girl,” he whispered harshly as his whiskered cheek raked the soft flesh of her belly. Every fine hair on her sto
mach fluttered to attention and she wiggled to the tickle of both. And as she wiggled, his fingers curled over the tops of her trousers. Buttons loosened, he rolled to one side and undressed her totally, as though she were as weightless as a rag doll.

  Then he studied her. He scanned the arch of her leg, her thigh and he moaned softly when she stretched her hand to pull his face to her breasts, digging her nails through thick hair that curled over the nape of his neck.

  “Yer even more beautiful than I imagined,” he said, words slightly slurred. “How can I make this night last forever?”

  Cradling his head within her arms Brandi pressed a kiss to his temple while pushing him to the bed. The dim light from the lantern shadowed her nakedness but seemed to illuminate his blue eyes, peering back at her filled with questions and a mixture of confusion only the deepest emotion could cause. “No sense in asking how or why,” she said. “It’s not for us to understand. Only love can last forever.”

  This seemed to please him. He entwined his fingers with hers, drew them to his lips. “Touch me,” he pleaded. Shyly he directed her hand to lower, as though not certain of her willingness.

  Why wouldn’t she want to know? They were lovers, eking out every intimacy from each other. Their bodies were an intricate part of the exploration. He had studied her. Now she would learn.

  Her palm cupped the hardened mound while he continued to watch her expression for approval. He winced to the pleasure her stroking radiated, an expression easily confused for pain. Perhaps it was a type of pain, for he was letting go, something he was not accustomed to allowing. His lids drifted shut as she opened the top two buttons of his trousers.

  When Brandi touched him, circling her fingers tightly around his girth, a moan rose from his throat, the sensuality of the sound resonating through her. Lust had begun to flare wildly within her mind, burning every corner, sealing out any hint of reticence.

  Devon’s eyes snapped open and he kicked his legs, throwing off his trousers to match her nakedness. Exposed to each other, in total honesty, there was no going back. Promises of ecstasy waited for each of them.

  Touching him had unleashed a monster, one crazed with desire. Yet he struggled, his body shivering, as he fought the need to simple throw her over and take what was offered. He caught his breath and waited till the struggle won. Not long. But when control was regained he coaxed her to crawl over him. He wanted to fall submissive to her wiles and she smiled, knowingly.

  He glared back at her without anger. Teeth clenched he pushed her hips lower, fingers digging in flesh, but she ignored the pain. In fact, it added to the pleasure, and the acknowledgment caused her smile to fade. In the frozen moment that followed he stared into her face. “I love you,” he said, each word barely audible.

  With a harsh thrust he was inside.

  Bliss. Not only had he surged up inside her body but he had filled her mind with his words, a confession that this was not merely sex for pleasure’s sake, it was an act of love, the ultimate gesture of promise and longing. Heat rose from between her sprawled legs while more heat radiated down from her mind, culminating within her breast. She drew a harsh breath, her chest expanding.

  Instinct. She clenched internal muscles. He expanded in return.

  He leaned upward, clasping his arms across her back. “Don’t move,” he said before tasting one nipple. She stole a dreamy glance to watch him, finding it difficult to keep from squirming, from pushing down to welcome him deeper. Yet she obeyed his wish. To please him was her only motive.

  Like a small child needing comfort, Devon rested his head against her heart, listening to the thrashing beat that caused each strand of blonde hair to vibrate. The man in him needed the pleasure of escape that only lovemaking could bestow, but he needed comfort as well, resting to a few minutes of sweet innocence.

  Sated, he lifted his eyes to her face and she leaned toward him, driving hard, robbing him of that moment of innocence. Desperation had now begun to blaze through them both and its rage was all consuming.

  Their bodies linked in a steely lock, Devon thrust full weight over her. He pinned her wrists above her head, against the brittle straw that made up their rough bed. The other hand cupped the curve of a breast. The handling of her body was rough and it roused the animal in her. The voice that groaned from constricted throat muscles was her own, yet a stranger’s. Never had her voice been this feral.

  His dominance of her was both gentle and firm. A rhythmic rocking started with his thighs and waved up through a backbone that had become fluid. His whole chest was hard and tight as if at any moment the pressure would destroy him. His breath shuddered and words escaped with the harsh groans that were rising from deep within. By being in control, however, he was losing control.

  “Brandi.” Hot breath hissed over her ear.

  She clung to his moist shoulders as hard as she could, lifting her backside from the bed to meet his gyrations. Pleasure was increasing, a hot frantic wave growing ever higher.

  “Brandi,” he called again as though blinded, needing to hear her response, for there was no other living soul but them.

  “Yes, darling,” she whispered, brushing back the damp hair that had curled over his brow.

  “Tell me.”

  “I love you, Devon. I love you so much.”

  The power of speech became an illusion. Nobody was dominant now as they both succumbed to bodies embroiled with passion. Boundaries were impossible to distinguish. Brandi didn’t know or care where she ended and he began. They had become one.

  She flinched to the shock of ecstasy, his gift, a reward for love, and then sighed as it bolted through her.

  And as she writhed, he thrust, clamping forearms against her sides, lost to the fervent need for release. “Oh,” he gasped as though surprised.

  Eyes rolled white beneath half-open lids and with one final lurch, he broke.

  The straw mattress beneath her had become an erotic cloud and she floated there, luxuriating in the aftermath, holding her lover with the little strength her weary muscles yielded. He slumped within her embrace, the heart that hammered against her own steadying. These few moments of total tranquility were almost as rewarding as the frantic lovemaking.

  Brandi blindly groped one hand for the edges on the quilt, folding it across Devon as he continued to lie over her. Neither of them was ready to let go. This night couldn’t last forever, but they would try to make it last for as long as humanly possible.

  It was during these few moments of tranquility that Brandi had a horrible thought. This handsome, virile man who had just made love to her was dead. Even though his heart beat softly against her breasts, even though the liquid heat pulsated through her womb, even though his fingers twitched within her hair, he was gone. Except for the past few days, she had lived in a place and time where his legacy had been virtually forgotten, except for a few printed words in a brochure that had labeled him a desperado. Yet her every sense screamed that this flesh, blood and bone was real, that she was a part of him. What if ... what if the freakish anomaly that thrust her into his arms jerked her away with similar ruthlessness? What if she awoke to find it all another heartbreaking dream? Fate had its own desires for her life, but what if, upon fulfilling her task, it tore her away from the love she had found in his arms?

  “No!” she cried aloud, cowering beneath the wide shoulder that pressed near her cheek. “No, I’ll not leave.” But the terror remained. She had no control over whatever had brought her here. She’d have no power over being stolen away again.

  If she could shrink, small and still, the living nightmare would go away.

  “What’s wrong?” Devon had pulled back in alarm to peer into her face.

  “I won’t go. I’d rather die, right here, right now, than leave you.”

  “Shush now,” he said kindly, consoling this mystifying dread the best he knew how. “I ain’t gonna ask you to leave me. And I’ll never leave you.” His cheek rose to a half smile. “Trust me?”

&nb
sp; Devon’s honesty, raw and deep, was soothing. It wasn’t that she mistrusted him, which was what he must be thinking. Unwilling to discuss why she had become so frightened, she gave herself permission to relax again, succumbing to the promises behind his caress.

  “Yes, I trust you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think that.”

  “That’s okay, darlin’,” he said. “I’m a little scared, too.”

  “You? I wouldn’t have thought you’d be scared of anything.”

  “I ain’t ever been in love.” He darted a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I got someone besides myself to look out fer. But I ain’t complainin’. This feels real good.”

  “Yeah, it certainly does.” Brandi snuggled into his side, his body warm, the quilt shielding them from the night.

  “Yer my lady outlaw,” he smiled, placing his cheek on the flat pillow they shared. “I knew it the minute I saw you.” Falling into sleep, his lids fluttered shut.

  A purr of satisfaction vibrated through his throat.

  “Good night, lover,” she whispered, before closing her eyes to join the slumber.

  Chapter Eight

  At twenty-four Devon had begun to feel old beyond his years. The weight of being haunted by a tragedy for which he felt responsible had weighed on his shoulders like an ox’s yoke. Illness of body and mind gave him no hope for the future. Revenge had burned through his mind just as fiercely as the fire had seared into his flesh. The damnation of being continually hunted was no help. Still, he carried on, inflicting revenge for both his brother’s death and his own guilty conscience. Determined, he hadn’t cared much for his own safety.

  Love he had considered an unwanted stranger, one he’d never allow to interfere with his life, such as it was. To love or be loved was a diversion and he couldn’t permit such blinders to shield his vision. Never in his wildest dreams did he perceive love to be an ally, one that would breathe new life into his weary soul. But it had.

  The morning was brighter than any other he had seen, the air was cleaner, crisper, and his chest filled with pride. He was happy to be alive, proud of being gifted with renewed strength, and certainly proud of the woman who had given him this new lease on life. Any obstacle the future had to hold was miniscule in comparison to days darkened by sobriety. He felt he could even face Cal with improved energy.