Not wanting to push Keith, Delaney waited, but he sensed that the boy was troubled.
“This place would make a good home,” Keith began.
“I thought so once.”
Keith shifted, restless, and lifted a piece of deadfall, stripping off its dried bark to feed the fire. “You’ve been lots of places, haven’t you?”
“Some men are born restless, Keith; some move on ’cause they’re searching an’ ain’t sure what they’re looking for.” Delaney thought about his own moving around and knew his time of running was nearly done. He caught Keith sneaking looks at him and wondered what troubled the boy that he couldn’t say. “There’s about enough for two cups in that coffeepot. I’d welcome another cup.”
“You don’t have to stay awake on account of me. I’ve got some thinking to do.”
“So do I, Keith, so do I. Pour the coffee, and we’ll sit quiet or talk.”
They sipped from their cups, and Keith added another log to the fire. “When does a man know it’s time to stop running?”
“Depends on the man,” Delaney answered, shaking off the tiredness when he heard an underlying fear in Keith’s voice. “Depends, too, on what a man is running from.”
With a cautious look around Keith moved closer to where Delaney sat. “We didn’t up and leave Kansas just to find us a new home and land to farm. We had to get away.”
“Think a bit more before you tell me anything, Keith,” Delaney said. “If it’s not—”
“I thought we were friends?” he cut in.
“We are.”
“And friends trust each other, don’t they?”
“Well, sure. I didn’t mean that you couldn’t trust me. I was trying to caution you about telling me things your father didn’t want me to know.”
“He don’t matter now. I’ve watched what he’s done to my sister, and I don’t like it. He thinks I’m still a boy. I’m not. I’ll make my own decisions about what’s right and wrong. And I need to tell you. I need to talk to someone about what happened back home.”
“All this because of what your father did?”
“Yeah, Del. He had no right to kill that Indian boy.”
Delaney studied Keith’s face and saw for himself the need in the boy’s eyes. He realized he was more exhausted than he knew. Although his instinct that the Beckets were hiding something was true, he was now uncertain he wanted to know what it was. With a quick shake of his head Delaney swallowed more coffee. He was going to listen to what Keith had to say.
As if he sensed Delaney’s willingness, Keith leaned close. “There’s a reward back home for Faith.”
Tension rippled over Delaney’s body, and he was thankful it was just dark enough to hide it. He had no reserves left to control it. A hundred questions flooded his mind, but he stopped himself from asking Keith even one of them. But his duchess was wanted?
“You don’t believe me, but I swear to you it’s true.”
“I believe you, Keith. Just give me a minute to swallow that.”
“You don’t sound surprised. Did you know about us before you agreed to ride for us?”
“No. I didn’t know. I’ll admit that I suspected all of you were hiding something, but I didn’t have reason to think of one of you being wanted.”
“Well, what I said is true. Can’t figure you sometimes, Del. You didn’t ask what she’s wanted for.” Keith shot him a puzzled look.
“If you told me this much, you’ll get to the rest. Don’t see a point in asking when you’ll say it in your time and way. And you need to know, Keith, this stays between us. I’m no damn bounty hunter.”
“Wouldn’t trust you if I thought that. Anyway, there is a reward for her. The cattlemen’s association thinks she’s the one that killed two of them the night they murdered her husband.” In a softer whisper Keith continued.
“We had a good time at their wedding, Faith and Martin’s. That was his name. He was a big, easy-speaking man, but my ma said he had himself a thick stubborn streak on account of his folks coming from Missouri.”
Delaney couldn’t help but grin when Keith flashed him a smile. He’d heard that saying before. With a quick look he noted the time and the covering darkness that was descending on the valley and found himself worrying about Faith. She’d been gone a long while.
Keith spoke again with a serious note in his voice. “The cattlemen didn’t want Martin to farm the land he bought. All the while he built their cabin, they came around, warning him what would happen. Martin didn’t believe them. He never told Faith about it. The night they got married and went home, the men were waiting for them. Martin tried to talk to them, but one of the men threw a rope around Faith and started to drag her behind his horse. Martin ran after her, and they shot him.” Keith stopped, squeezing his eyes shut. He knew he had to tell the rest, but his chest felt tight, and tears burned behind his eyelids. His shoulders sagged, and he lowered his head, ashamed to let Delaney see his weakness.
Delaney saw each protective move, and he remembered his own grief, his own tears. He came to his feet, unable to find words to comfort Keith. Lifting the boy to stand, ignoring his attempt to pull away and hide the wetness on his cheeks, Delaney slung one arm over his shaking shoulders and led him away from the fire.
“Once there was a man who I loved like a father. He told me there was no shame in a man’s tears. I didn’t believe him, Keith, and you may not believe me now, but I give those words back to you.”
Blindly Keith turned to him, sobbing as Delaney held him, whispering broken words that slowly finished the terror of that night.
“They were going to kill Faith,” Keith repeated over and over. “They couldn’t let her live to tell what they had done. No one was there to help Faith but Joey.” Keith pulled free of Delaney’s arms and turned away, furiously wiping his eyes. “Joey grabbed Martin’s loaded shotgun. He said he couldn’t see the men, but he fired the gun. All he tried to do was help my sister. He didn’t know … Joey just didn’t understand what he was doing.”
All the bits and pieces that Faith had told him came to Delaney in a rush. Joey had been there, witness to her husband’s murder. Joey, waking up blind in the morning. And Faith, taking the blame and being made to pay by her father.
Delaney placed one hand on Keith’s shoulder, urging him to turn. “Tell me why you wanted me to know. You’ve held this bottled up inside you a long time, Keith. Why now?”
“ ’Cause I hate him! I can’t respect him and listen to him anymore. He’s made her pay for this. He made Ma pay for it. He’s the one that made us leave. Faith wanted to tell what those cattlemen did. But he said no one was going to believe her. He didn’t want her getting free of him.”
“Easy, Keith. I’m not your enemy. He is your father, and if you don’t like his way, you’ll have to find your own. But have you tried to talk to him—”
“He won’t listen to me. He thinks I’m a boy. I told you I’m not.” With a defiant stance he again wiped his eyes. “I want to leave him. I’ll make my own way.”
“What about Pris and Joey? They still need you. And Faith. Your sister will likely take the brunt of your father’s anger if you take off.”
“I can’t be worrying about them.”
“Then don’t call yourself a man, Keith, if you can turn your back on those who need you.” The words were cruel, and Delaney knew it, but Keith needed some harsh talk to make him stop and think before he acted. “You figure to leave them behind?”
Keith walked a few steps and stood with his head thrown back, staring up at the night sky.
Delaney let him be a few minutes and rolled himself a smoke. He leaned down to strike the match against a stone, and when he straightened, he found that Keith was watching him.
“What should I do, Del?”
“I’m not the man to be asking. You had a rough two days an’ might want to sleep on this.”
“I might,” Keith conceded grudgingly.
“We can talk again if you’d like. I’ll admit I’m not thinking too clear myself right now.”
“Yeah. I’d like that, Del.”
He walked back with Delaney, bid him good night, and took his bedroll a ways from the wagons.
Delaney glanced at his own bedroll set near the fire, and as tired as he was, he knew he wouldn’t sleep now. He finished his smoke, his mind filled with what Keith had told him. He glanced at the wagon, wondering if Faith was sleeping. A moment later he knew that even if she was not, he wouldn’t go near her. Things had happened too fast between them. There had been no time to talk then, less afterward. To himself, he admitted he wasn’t sure he wanted to confront his feelings for her. Not now, when he had so much of his own past to resolve.
Restless, he began to walk. A loving woman like Faith deserved more than he had given her. His thoughts drifted back to what Keith had said about Joey’s blindness. Delaney puzzled over its cause. Had the boy’s mind closed out the sight of his shooting a man by refusing to allow him to see? Or had something gone wrong with the shotgun when he fired, causing a blinding flash that made Joey lose his sight?
He recalled Faith telling him the doctor could find no damage to the boy’s eyes. That ruled out the second reason Joey could not see and left Delaney thinking about the first.
He found himself nearing the pond and stopped, gazing at the moonlit surface. His head was crowded with too many thoughts, too many decisions to make. Suddenly Delaney was tired of it all. A cold-water bath and sleep was what he needed. Morning and decisions that couldn’t be put off would come soon enough.
He rounded the pond to the limestone ledge on its far side.
From within the stand of cottonwoods Faith watched Delaney. She had taken her bath but found herself unable to return to the wagon. There was something about the peacefulness of this place that lured her to stay. When Delaney stripped off his shirt and the moonlight gilded his skin, she knew she should leave or call out to him.
She did nothing.
He placed his gunbelt on top of his shirt and sat to remove his moccasins, then neatly place them to one side. In a graceful move he came to his feet and quickly shucked off his pants.
Faith’s breath caught in her throat. Delaney’s body was beautiful. He stretched his arms wide to the sky, and she stared, filled with a sense of doing the forbidden. Unwanted memories of Martin and the few times before their wedding that they had made love rushed into her mind. She had never seen Martin undressed. Their couplings had been hurried, awkward gropings with little time or chance to remove their clothing. Each time she had been left feeling restless, unsure of what was wrong and unable to ask anyone, least of all Martin. He had been too pleased. Now, with a guilty start, she realized she had never had a desire to see Martin fully unclothed. And she had no need to ask anyone what she had been cheated of when they made love. Delaney had showed her the beauty of shared passion.
She wanted him. He was smooth-muscled strength and raw masculinity in every move of his straight-limbed body. Faith rubbed her hands against her thighs, remembering the feel of his muscular shoulders and arms. She longed to touch him again. The breeze lifted a leaf that brushed her cheek, and she closed her eyes briefly, imagining her cheek brushing the soft mat of hair that fanned across his chest and narrowed into a line down the center of his body before it spread outward to cup the potent maleness that sprang free.
He untied a narrow band from around his hips and she saw him hold the small bag attached to it for a moment before he set it down. His legs were long and powerful as he walked to the water’s edge. Faith was struck anew by the sight of him; he was overwhelmingly male, a pagan in this ancient place, as wicked, untamed, and dangerous as the land he loved. Her body’s response intensified in a wild, warm rush, and her blood began to beat to an insidious rhythm. Water rippled out when he entered it. Moonlight cast his face in shadow, then light, teasing her with the intriguing cast of his features.
Her want became hunger.
The water was hip-deep as he made his way to the silver spill falling from the ledge. Images flooded her mind. She envied the lacy tendrils of water that caressed his body when she yearned to do the same.
She wished for the courage to join him.
He turned toward her. Faith was sure he saw her within the protective shelter of the trees. She could feel the burning intensity of his eyes. Water spilled from the ledge above him, making his long dark hair a sleek, wet helmet before it ran down his face and body. He didn’t move or speak.
Was he angry that she was here? Faith neither knew nor cared. She was drawn to move away from the protection of the trees and walked slowly to the edge of the pond. There she waited.
Delaney stared at her. He tossed his head and stepped aside, out of the water’s flow. She was every dream that came to tantalize him. The moonlight silvered the honey-rich color of her hair, which fell in a tumbled mass over her shoulders. That same light coming from behind her revealed the shadowed outline of her legs beneath her gown. It was all she wore. The chill of the water on his body disappeared with the flood of heat that sight of her brought to him.
Ducking beneath the water, Delaney grabbed two handfuls of sand. He rose and shook his head to clear the water from his eyes, and without taking his gaze from her, began to scrub his arms, shoulders, and chest. His moves were slow, deliberate, stretching out the seconds that brought a visible change in her breathing. Still, he didn’t speak to her. But he was remembering, and memory of Faith, soft, soft skin and sweet cries, made his body tighten. Exhaustion fled.
As if his thoughts had been carried to her, he saw her lips part, her eyes grow hungry and dark, and her breasts rise and fall with unsteady breaths.
He didn’t want to linger. He ducked beneath the water to rinse the sand and dust from his body, then came toward her, only to stop when water lapped above his thighs.
“If we were Apache, and I dared to watch you bathe, I would lose my life.”
“But we’re not Apache,” she whispered, willing him to come to her. “And you didn’t watch me,” she added with a breathless catch in her voice.
“What are you doing here, Faith?”
She watched him raise his hands to his hips, standing where he was. Faith lifted her gaze to his lips. He was not smiling. “I didn’t mean to spy on you,” she offered in her own defense. “I was there,” she explained, gesturing toward the trees, “when you came. I meant to say something and warn you I was here.” Nervously she licked her bottom lip. “I … couldn’t.”
“Why?” he asked in a soft, relentless voice.
Her gaze locked to his. “I didn’t want to,” she admitted.
“I thought you hated me, duchess.”
“Please, Del—”
“No. You said you hated me.”
She looked away from him. “I did. Back there. I really didn’t understand why you lashed out at me. But it was the only way, wasn’t it?”
Her admission that she didn’t hate him made tension ebb from his body. “You weren’t the only one who hated me. I hated myself for having to hurt you after all you’d been through.” He lowered his head, staring into the dark depth of the water, suddenly wanting her understanding. “You know I had to kill him, Faith.”
“Yes, I know. Now,” she added, unable to keep the regret from her voice.
“Sometimes a man doesn’t have time to decide if there’s another way. And I had to protect you.” With one hand he stirred the surface of the water, following the ripples that spread out and away from him. As his exhaustion had fled, so had his caution. He warned himself to listen to what he was admitting to her, then, to carefully think before he said another word.
Faith looked back at him. There was a lonely air about him, a solitary man struggling to survive, and she ached to comfort him. But just as he had shown her strength and beauty in what she believed to be barren desert, she needed to return its measure to him. She didn�
�t want Delaney to blame himself. She wanted to give him her love, and that desire made her bold.
“Are you planning on hiding in the water, Delaney?”
His head jerked up, and his gaze snagged hers. For a moment he felt strange, almost defenseless, as if she had seen into his mind and his heart and knew the secrets they held. It was a feeling that had little to do with his naked state and everything to do with the emotions that were getting tangled with the lovely woman watching him. He wanted her, and that forced him to strip pretense away.
“Do you want me to come out?” he asked in a husky voice.
“Yes,” she answered without coyness, without hesitation. Raising her arms to him, the gesture both pleading and one of welcome to her warrior, Faith waited for him to come to her.
She took his hand, a whisper of laughter escaping at the renewed shock of icy water against her heated skin.
“I’m wet,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in an off-centered grin at his own foolishness.
“It doesn’t matter, Delaney. Nothing does but us.” With both hands she smoothed the water down his chest, caressing the sleek, potent warmth of his skin. She leaned close and pressed a kiss over his heart.
Gently Delaney brushed her hair back from her face, his gaze lingering on the thick curls that entwined over his damp fingers. His thumbs met beneath the soft skin of her chin, and he slowly tilted her head back. The air around them stilled as he gazed into her eyes, searching them before he spoke.
“There’s so much giving inside you, Faith, that you make a man want to take and take, then offer all he is in return.” He pressed his forehead to hers, then licked the drops of water that fell from his hair to her skin. “I haven’t touched you, and you already want. Do you know what that does to a man, to know that a woman, his woman, is helpless to stop the need that burns when he looks at her? And when I touch you,” he whispered, sighing the words over her parted lips, “I know that you’ll come to me with nothing of yourself held back.” He dipped his head, the bruise on her chin needing a feather-light kiss before he pulled back. “Is there anything that you would deny me?”
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