Lois Greiman

by My Desperado

  “No.” That single word came hard, but all her life she’d done what she’d been told to do, and where had it gotten her? “You’re planning on going after Delias, aren’t you?”

  “That ain’t your concern.”

  “It’s my life, too. You can’t protect me forever.”

  “Protect you!” His laugh was harsh, and he gripped her arms in callused hands. “I can’t protect you for one day, lady. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Not her. Not you. Never!”

  She tried to speak, but his face was so near hers, so filled with rage and frustration, and something more. Fear. But fear of what? “Who was Rachel?” She whispered the question, unable to stop it.

  He didn’t speak, but his grip loosened and he seemed to pull inside himself. “I can’t protect you, lady.”

  “Who was Rachel?” she murmured again.

  His eyes bore into hers. “She was an innocent.” His hands slid down her arms, taking the knife from her. “Like you.”

  Katherine could not pull her gaze from him. So much sadness there. So much pain.

  She reached out, touching his face. It was rough with stubble, lined with wear and fatigue. “We’re innocent, Travis. There must be a way to prove it if we work together.”

  He wanted to hit something, to feel something crumble beneath his fist. Every muscle tightened. Every tendon stood taut as memories assailed him. Death! So much of it. But he would not allow her to die, even if he had to lock her away for an eternity.

  “All right.” He nodded once. “We’ll stay together. But you’ll do exactly what I say. Hear me? Exactly.”

  She remained silent, watching him.

  “We gotta change the way you look. First we cut your hair.”

  Katherine grasped her heavy braid in sun-pinkened hands. “My hair?”

  “Changing your mind already, lady?”

  Katherine swallowed hard and raised her chin. In twenty-one years she’d never cut her hair. But neither had she been accused of murder. “Cut away,” she said stiffly.

  Travis scowled. She was crazier than he was. A woman’s hair was her glory—a symbol of her femininity. Hell, there were folks who considered cutting a woman’s hair to be a sin. “You don’t care?”

  “No.”

  She was a terrible liar. He lifted the knife, judging the edge with his thumb. “All right.” He stepped behind, pulling her braid with him.

  Katherine closed her eyes.

  He stood, blade hefted.

  Time slipped past.

  “What are you waiting for?” She was tense as a tree now, her mouth pursed.

  “I’m waiting for you to come to your damn senses and tell me you’ll go back home to your mama, where you belong,” Travis rasped.

  “Well, I won’t.” Katherine remained as she was, her head tilted slightly back. “Cut.”

  Travis put the blade to the top of her braid, made several quick strokes, and the dark, silken rope of hair came away in his hand.

  “Well…” Katherine nodded stiffly. “Good. Now what?”

  “Get ready to ride.” He turned woodenly, feeling more the murderer than he ever had.

  It took only a moment for him to bridle Soldier. A bit longer to roll the blankets and tie them behind his saddle.

  “You ready?” He turned toward her slowly, still frowning.

  Katherine stood like a pillar of salt, one hand lifted to her bare neck, her silvery eyes wide.

  “Lady?” he questioned gruffly.

  “Papa liked my hair.” Her words sounded hollow. “Sometimes I thought it was the only thing he liked about me.”

  Travis remained as he was, stricken with the sudden knowledge that she was no less beautiful without her long hair, no less desirable.

  “Lady.” Travis said the word softly, knowing better than to get caught in her eyes. “Get on my horse.”

  “He said I looked just like Mother when she was a girl.”

  Travis tightened his fists. “We gotta get riding.”

  “She was only twelve when they met.” Katherine smiled wistfully. “Her hair was loose and she’d put daisies in it. Papa said she was pretty, even though vanity was a sin.” Her smile dropped away, and she looked lost. “He was a very practical man.”

  Travis knew he should stop her, should drag her to the horse and insist they ride. But he, too, could imagine a young beauty with raven hair. Rachel had been twelve when she’d died. “Listen, lady,” he said softly.

  “It’s nothing.” Her fingers slid down her pale neck. Her gaze dropped to the ground. “Just a little hair.”

  “Don’t—”

  “Not important,” she said, turning quickly as if to search the site for any forgotten items.

  Travis watched her. Her shoulders jerked, but stiffened quickly. He scowled and closed his eyes. But he felt her sadness, nevertheless. He was behind her in a moment.

  “Katherine.”

  It was one of the few times she’d heard him use her Christian name. She turned stiffly, like a child needing a hug. “It’s all right. Really,” she said, swiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

  He shifted uneasily. “I thought you didn’t care.”

  “I don’t,” she sniffed, feeling maverick tears slip to his shirt and spread between them. “It’s nothing.”

  He found the nerve to touch the ragged ends of the ebony locks, knowing he was testing his own control by doing so. “Then why are you crying?”

  She sniffed and straightened her shoulders like a small soldier. “Because I’m hungry.”

  “You always cry when you’re hungry?”

  “Yes.” She sighed, drew a shuddering breath, and, momentarily giving up the battle for strength, laid her cheek against his chest, much as she had imagined doing.

  They stood together, saying nothing for a moment. His fingers brushed upward, pressing a strand of uneven hair behind her ear. Her eyes were closed, he noticed, her head tilted back slightly, and he studied her as she drew in jagged trembling breaths.

  Travis whispered her name, bending his neck to kiss the corner of her mouth. “You’re so very beautiful.”

  Her eyes flew open, luminous and moist and wide. Her lips parted, and then, “No, I’m not,” she rasped, and, turning her face into his chest, let the tears flow unchecked.

  Travis stood in dumbfounded amazement. Though he hadn’t told her of her beauty solely to make her feel better, neither had he expected her to burst into fresh tears.

  “Please don’t cry, lady,” he said softly.

  But she did so, nevertheless, gripping his shirtfront in both hands as she wept quietly against his chest.

  “Please.” He looked toward heaven, feeling his nerves fray. “I’ll…” He thought hard. “I’ll buy you chocolates.”

  Katherine sniffled, feeling the deluge finally ebb and smiling with grim amusement at his attempt to soothe her. “Ryland,” she said in a hoarse tone, “in the past month I’ve been shot at, hunted down, cursed at, and attacked. I hardly think the promise of chocolates is going to mend all my problems.” She sniffled again, looking affronted. “I’m not a child you know.”

  He was silent for a moment. “You’re right… I’m sorry.”

  Katherine remained quiet in his arms, thinking. A sparrow sang glibly from the nearby woods.

  “Ryland?”

  He shuffled her a bit in his arms, looking over her head to the rising sun. “Call me that once more and I’m taking my shirt back,” he warned dryly.

  “Oh.” She licked her lips. “Travis?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Could you really obtain those chocolates?”

  Chapter 17

  Travis tossed a package at Katherine’s feet. She had sat alone in the woods for nearly an hour, waiting, tamping down her fear, and pacing until her nerves were frayed and her feet ached. She sat on his bedroll now, her high-heeled slippers empty beside her as she retrieved the parcel he’d brought.

  “What did you buy?” she asked, looking
into Ryland’s freshly shaved face. Was he as handsome as he seemed or was it simply that she’d been removed from other human companionship for so long? In another week Soldier might seem irresistible.

  “Supplies,” Ryland said gruffly, “and that.” He turned his back, leading his stallion away, but in a moment he stopped to loosen the ties that held his saddlebags and watch her.

  Katherine pulled the package open, drawing out the masculine garments piece by piece. She swallowed once, looking up. “For me?”

  Travis wasn’t certain how to read her tone. They’d ridden for two days to reach Edgewood. But he’d left her in the woods and went into town alone. “Told you we’d be changing your looks,” he said, but in truth she’d already changed a great deal. Her hair was short and uneven, and her skin, already a golden tan.

  She licked her dry lips and nodded. “Thank you,” she said, then, “how did you manage it on two dollars and fifty cents?”

  Travis watched her closely as she drew the bundle to her chest. “I had a little extra.”

  “You mean you had money all along?” She scowled slightly, seeing him bend down to retrieve small packages from inside his leather bags.

  “A little.” He nodded.

  “And you would have allowed those…renegades to believe you didn’t.” She stood, looking indignant. “So making them want to take me instead?”

  Travis slowed his motions to look at her again. She was, despite it all, very beautiful, breathtakingly so, he thought, even when her temper was rising, or perhaps especially then.

  “You would have allowed them to take me,” she said, remembering that nightmare with growing anger.

  “Did you look in the boot?” he asked, turning back toward his own packages as Soldier sampled cottonwood leaves.

  “You would have let them take me, wouldn’t you?” she asked, aggravated.

  “Look in the boot.”

  Katherine lowered her brows angrily, knowing he had no intention of answering. “Fine.” She dropped her hand into one boot, then the next. “I’ll look in the silly…” Her hand came out with a small rectangular box. Her mouth went round, her eyes wide. “Chocolates,” she breathed, and Travis turned away, hiding his smile in the woods.

  “Try on the clothes, lady. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Chocolates,” she said again, opening the scroll-covered box to peek inside and assure herself that it was really true. “Sweet, rich, and dark.” She licked her lips, then gingerly touched one, but immediately drew her grubby hand back, not wanting to defile such a treasure.

  She needed a bath. No one should eat chocolates when they were dirty. It was a crime, possibly punishable by future chocolate deprivation. She giggled, feeling giddy.

  Carefully closing the box, she hurried to the saddlebags to strap her delicious treasures quickly inside.

  She’d found a stream not far from this spot. She’d go there now, bathe, change clothes, and hurry back here before Ryland returned. Gathering the newly purchased bundle, she headed downhill.

  Once beside the stream, Katherine glanced quickly around, feeling exposed and uncertain as she began peeling off clothing. Ryland’s shirt went first, then the soiled gown, though it was difficult reaching the buttons that ran down her back. Finally she squatted by the rushing stream, feeling wickedly exhilarated and breathless.

  The water was icy cold as she scrubbed her hands and splashed it on her arms. It felt refreshing on her face, breathtaking on her throat and chest, and heart-stopping as she finally gathered all her nerve and waded in to the three-foot depths.

  She remained frozen in place for a moment then leaning back, doused her hair to come up sputtering and scrubbing. With no soap it seemed a bit ineffectual, but better than nothing—perhaps—if her feet weren’t embedded in the mud.

  Then she noticed the bear. It was big and black, and stood not twenty feet from her, snuffling at her clothes as if debating whether it was hungry enough to give them a taste test.

  “Dear God!” Katherine whispered the prayer. “Don’t let me die before I eat my chocolates.”

  The bear lifted her head, sampling the strange human scent on the breeze, then rose on her hind legs to take a better look.

  “Don’t panic,” Katherine whispered to herself.

  The bear swung its broad head then quick as a huge cat, she dropped to her forepaws to scramble into the stream.

  The scream seemed to rip up from the pit of Katherine’s cramped stomach. Her legs unbent with a jolt. Her arms pumped as she scrambled for the opposite shore. But the mud still held her feet, and she fell, hitting the icy water with her chest and bolting upright, gasping for breath. Saturated hair streamed across her eyes, blurring her vision, but she struggled forward, on hands and knees now, panic and cold stiffening her limbs.

  There was a splash behind her. She screamed again, feeling something paw her back.

  “Lady.” Travis breathed her name, catching her in his arms and pulling her to his chest.

  She flailed against him, terror surging through her panicked system.

  “Lady.” He caught her flying hands to pull them gently between their bodies. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “Just a black bear.”

  Relative calm soaked slowly into Katherine’s being, and she drew a deep breath, turning her head slowly to find the black creature that would surely cause her death. “Just a black bear?” she whispered.

  “Yeah.” Travis stood knee-deep in the water, she realized, holding her to his chest as if she were a frightened child.

  “Black bear?” she questioned, glancing about feverishly but finding no evidence of the huge threatening animal. “Is that good?”

  He chuckled in her ear. “They’re usually harmless, unless they have younguns.” He didn’t mention that this one did and that he’d seen a pair of them ambling downstream a bit. Apparently, Travis’s approach had scared the mother off, for she’d left the trout she’d been coveting to gallop away toward her cubs.

  Katherine drew a deep breath, feeling suddenly limp with relief. “I’ve made a fool of myself again.” Her eyes dropped to his chest, where his damp shirt clung to the hard slopes beneath his shoulders. “Haven’t I?”

  She felt like heaven in his arms. All wet and soft and slippery, full of curves and life and husky apologies. “I don’t think anyone could make a fool of you,” he said softly.

  Katherine raised her eyes slowly, wondering at the sincerity in his voice, thinking he must surely be mocking her. But his face was absolutely sober, his eyes intense, his nostrils slightly flared.

  “Teach me to be tough,” she murmured, so terribly impressed by his strength and courage that it took her breath away.

  “Lady…” He shook his head slowly, unable to stop the hot sensations that coursed through his being with lightning speed. “I kind of like you soft.”

  They were so close she could see each individual line on his face, the slight creases that radiated from his eyes, the pleasant grooves that deepened when he spoke. He was a masterpiece, a hardened, sculptured work of art. “Teach me,” she breathed.

  Then he kissed her because he couldn’t help himself and didn’t want to. She was soft, and lovely, and kissing him in return. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, and her kisses were hot and torturous.

  “Lady!” He pulled his mouth abruptly away, determined not to take advantage of her loneliness, of her fear, of her vulnerability. “We shouldn’t do this.”

  Katherine didn’t answer, but caught his gaze with her own. “Why?”

  He remained silent for a moment, grappling for strength. But it had run dry. “Can’t you think of a reason?” he rasped.

  She shook her head numbly and Travis came undone. He bent, sweeping her into his arms. Water rushed past and through his saturated boots as he carried her to shore. He failed, however, to notice anything but his precious burden.

  Katherine’s eyes were closed, and her breasts were pressed tightly against his chest.

 
With trembling arms, he deposited her on his bedroll, and though he meant to straighten, the sight of her naked and willing kept him where he was. He drew back, breathing hard. “Lady, you don’t want this.”

  “All my life people have been telling me what I should want,” she whispered. “Would it be such a sin if I wanted you?”

  He stared at her, his nostrils flared. “It would be a mistake.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I ain’t worth it.”

  She lifted one hand, grasping his shirt in her fist. “I think you are,” she whispered. “And I do want it. Would you kiss me again?”

  “Lady, I—”

  “I rather liked it.”

  “Lady!” he warned, but her lips were parted and waiting and he lacked the will to restrain himself.

  He kissed her hard, and she moaned, pressing up against him. There was no longer any hope for self-control. She’d made the choice, and despite the fact that she would hate him later, he could no longer resist. His arms wound about her bare back, pulling her closer.

  There was a sweet, delicate hollow below her collarbone, and he lingered there, nuzzling, kissing then moved downward.

  She was arched beneath him, breathless and waiting. Her breasts were high and proud, dark-nippled and taut. His kisses skimmed between them as his hands cupped the outsides of the soft mounds.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered to them then moved on, worshipping her with his hands and mouth.

  Every fiber of her was firm, yet soft. Her legs were long, slightly bent, and quivering. He kissed her thigh, her knee, the flat plain of her shin, and then up he moved again, finally cupping her buttocks to shimmy over top.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed.

  She tried to say the same, but found she had no words. Though her lips were parted, she could not speak. And so she pressed more firmly against him, her eyes on his face, her arms clutched beneath his shirt.

  Is this love, then, or simple lust, the like of which my father warned against? Katherine wondered dizzily. But his lips were on hers again, teasing, tantalizing.

  He was between her legs now, and she pressed up against him, trying to ease the ache.