THE OUTLAW BRIDE

by Maggie Shayne

  "How would you know? You were out cold, between that lump on the head and the pain meds Doc gave you."

  "I was … partly awake." He lowered his head so she couldn't see his eyes. His sister knew him too well to be looking him in the eye at a time like this. If she knew how much Esmeralda had hurt him, she would be out for blood. And even though he was angry, he didn't want to see the woman harmed. "I was lucid enough to understand what she was saying to me, at least."

  "The words maybe."

  Elliot lifted his head, studied his sister's face. Elfin and mischievous … and slightly worried right now. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Means hearing and understanding are two different things, El. And you barely managed to do the one and were sure as hell in no shape to do the other."

  He shook his head. It hurt when he did that, so he stopped. "You don't make any sense. I just told you, Jessi, you were right. I was wrong. She confessed. It's over." Picking up the toast again, Elliot dipped a corner of it into the sweetened tea and forced himself to take a soggy bite.

  "Hmm. That's … odd, isn't it?"

  He swallowed and fought nausea. "It's cold. It's miserable. It's rotten. But I wouldn't call it odd."

  Jessi shrugged. "Drink your tea."

  He took a sip to oblige her.

  "I just think it's strange that she would admit it, at this point. I mean … well, I assume that means she decided not to go through with this … plan of hers."

  "Apparently."

  "That's what seems so odd. I mean, she pretty much had you right where she wanted you, didn't she? You said you were gonna marry her. Right in front of everyone. So … if that were all she was after the whole time … well, then it makes darn little sense for her to run away like she did. Doesn't it?"

  Elliot shrugged.

  "Wonder what made her change her mind?" Jessi mused.

  He had to avert his eyes. Being reminded of his passionate, if poorly thought out, declaration—made in front of the whole fam-damily—was painful. And humiliating. "Don't know," Elliot said. "Don't care. I just want her out of here."

  "Well, sure you do. I mean, it's not like she went out in a raging storm, pulled your broken body from underneath a tree and hauled your sorry butt all the way home or anything. Not like she saved your life. I mean, it wasn't that big a deal. Her feet weren't that badly cut, and there was no real frostbite. Sure, they were blue and all, but Doc said she'd be okay. And the bruises and scratches on her face were fairly minor. And sure, she was soaked to the skin, chilled to the bone and covered with mud from head to toe, but that's nothing a hot bath didn't fix right up."

  Elliot felt his stomach clench into a tight knot as his sister talked. And every word conjured up an image. Strong, determined Esmeralda facing down the fury of a storm to help him. Cradling him in her arms, kissing his face and promising him that it would be all right.

  "Is she … is she okay?" he managed to ask.

  "Hell, Elliot, I don't know. She cried herself to sleep last night. Right after she left your room."

  He lifted his head. "She did?"

  "I was wrong about her, Elliot," Jessi said.

  "No. No, you were right. She told me everything."

  "I know." Jessi smiled a little sheepishly. "I was listening outside the door. But the only thing I heard was a woman telling a man that she loved him too much to hurt him."

  "That's not what she said," Elliot told her quickly.

  "No. No, it's not. But tell me this, Elliot. Why do you suppose she couldn't go through with it? She had what she wanted. You offered to marry her. So why did she suddenly change her mind?"

  Elliot lowered his head, closed his eyes. "I don't know." Then he lifted his gaze to hers again. "And I don't want to know. I believed in her so much, Jessi, and she let me down. She made a fool out of me. I'm sure as hell not going back for seconds."

  She nodded. "Maybe … maybe there's something I can do."

  "Like what?" He shook his head hard, ignoring the pain. "Listen, Jessi, I don't want you getting involved in this. Just let me alone, okay? Stay out of it. Please."

  Jessi leaned over and stroked his forehead. "Oh, Elliot, darlin' … you really ought to know better than to think I could do a thing like that!" She kissed his cheek, got to her feet and hurried out, leaving Elliot with cold toast, weak tea and a badly bruised heart. He lay there staring hard at the door and forbidding his mind to think too hard on the things Jessi had said. He wasn't going to go softening up toward Esmeralda again. He wasn't going to set himself up for another blow. Hell, she'd made herself pretty damned clear last night. He would have to be a fool to forget that.

  But even as he lay there, staring, banishing her face from his mind, the door opened slowly, and the phantom beauty stood there, looking back at him. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders. Her eyes were wide and black. In them he saw a bit of worry, a bit of fear, a lot of regret.

  "What do you want?" he asked her.

  She shrugged delicate shoulders and came farther inside. "To see if you were all right. You seemed so … so weak last night."

  "I'm fine. You don't need to worry yourself about me." He knew he sounded like a petulant kid. He felt like one. "And you didn't need to come in here, either. You could have asked someone if you gave a damn how I was doing."

  She lowered her head. "I … am not exactly in favor with your family right now, Elliot."

  "Yeah, well, you're not in favor with me just now, either."

  She drew a breath, sighed deeply. "So you did hear what I told you last night."

  "I heard."

  "And as I thought you would, you hate me now."

  She lowered her head. "So I guess it is time for me to say goodbye, Elliot Brand."

  "Oh no it's not. Not just yet, it isn't. I want to know something, and I think you owe me the truth after all this. Why did you change your mind? Why did you decide not to go through with your clever little plan?" he asked her. He hadn't intended to, had deliberately told himself not to, but suddenly he needed to know.

  She only shook her head and turned toward the door.

  "Dammit, answer me. I deserve to know!"

  She kept going, stepping over the threshold. Elliot lunged from the bed, forgetting his leg, his cast, his cables and pullies, and his tray of food. As a result, he and all the rest of it wound up crashing to the floor in a tangled, wet mess.

  "Elliot!"

  Esmeralda was back at his side instantly, her hands strong and sure, gripping him, helping him up and easing him onto the edge of the bed even as she brushed the mess of food off him. Her hands pressed to his face, her wide eyes searching his … and they were damp. "Are you all right?" she asked. And it seemed she was scared to death that he'd injured himself again.

  Dammit, why was he so freaking determined to see things that were not real? "Fine," he muttered, averting his eyes. He couldn't look at her. He was too soft, and she was too beautiful.

  "Well, what have you done to him now?" Jessi called from the doorway. She stomped in, surveyed the mess and shook her head, hands on her hips. Turning to glance behind her, she said, "You see what I was saying?"

  Entering behind her, Chelsea sighed. "Yes, I guess I do. Once again, Jessi, you were right."

  And behind Chelsea, Sara entered the room. "I'd offer to stay and help, but I have classes to teach. There's just no way…"

  "That's all right, Sara," Jessi said. "Esmeralda made this mess, she's just going to have to stay long enough to clean it up."

  Elliot narrowed his eyes on his sister. When he slid a glance Esmeralda's way, she was looking confused. "I … I don't know what you mean," she said.

  "What I mean, Esmeralda," Jessi said, striding forward and bending to pick up the toppled pulley apparatus that was supposed to be supporting Elliot's leg, getting it upright and untangling its cables, "is that we have jobs, families and lives, all of us. Plus this ranch to run, and now we're not only short a hand, we've got an invalid to take care of."

/>   "I'm no invalid!"

  "And it's all your fault," Jessi went on, ignoring Elliot as if he hadn't spoken. "Now, I know you told Sara you were planning to leave today, and I just don't think that's fair. You can't make all this trouble and then just walk out and leave us to deal with it. We need your help right here."

  "Oh, no…" Elliot tried to cut his sister off, because he could see, very clearly now, where she was going with this.

  Lifting her chin, facing Jessi like a martyr facing the flames, Esmeralda said, "You are right. I've been thoughtless and rude. Of course I will take over Elliot's share of the chores until he is well again."

  Jessi seemed taken aback. She glanced at Chelsea, who looked at Sara, who shrugged and looked at Jessi again. Hell, Elliot thought. They were all in on this?

  "That's not going to help. The men can take up the slack with the ranch chores, Esmeralda. What we need is someone to take care of Elliot."

  Esmeralda looked at him swiftly. "But … but I cannot do that. I will tend the cattle. Or the horses. I know horses, believe me. Let someone else care for Elliot—"

  "Oh, come on, Esmeralda. What do these men know about caring for an invalid?" Jessi asked.

  "I'm no damned invalid!"

  "Shut up, Elliot," Jessi snapped. She turned her gaze right back to Esmeralda again. "Doc says he has to be flat on his back in that bed for a week. After that he can start trying to get up and around again, but he'll have to take it slow. He'll be on crutches. It's going to be tough going for a while, and we just don't have the time to take proper care of him. If you won't do this, I'll have to hire a nurse, and—" Jessi broke off, rubbing her chin, shaking her head. "Here's a thought. We'll pay you."

  Esmeralda shook her head. "No."

  "We'll pay you in land."

  Slowly Elliot looked at his sister. "Have you lost your freaking mind, Jessi?"

  "We're going to need her full-time, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for what will probably stretch into two months while we get you back on your feet, little brother. It's worth any price." She eyed Esmeralda. "I still hold title to one third of this ranch," Jessi said slowly. "I'll give you part of it if you'll stay."

  "Of course she'll stay," Elliot snapped. "The land is all she's wanted the entire time she's been here."

  Esmeralda's head snapped around, and her eyes blazed and her nostrils flared. "Is that what you think? After all that was between us, is that what you really think?"

  "Of course it's what I think! It's what you told me!"

  "It is not what I told you, you stupid man!" She was still crouching on the floor, where she'd been cleaning up the mess. But she rose now, straightening to her full height and tearing her furious gaze away from his to look at Jessi. "I will stay," she stated, her voice practically snapping with electric rage. "But not for your stinking land. I don't want it. It's poison now. Desecrated by blind men and their descendants."

  Jessi lifted her brows. "We're not all bad, Esmeralda. But I suppose that discussion would do better if we held it another time. So what do you want? We'll have to come to some kind of arrangement."

  Her chin went higher, hair snapping with the motion. "I will ask but one thing in return for my work. When he is well—" this with a quick snap of her head toward Elliot, all done without so much as glancing at him "—I want to go far away from here. Perhaps you will help me find a place to live, a job so that I can support myself and my…" She bit her lip fast, lowered her head. "That is all I ask."

  Jessi nodded. "It's not anywhere near enough, but let me worry about that. As a base price, it's agreed."

  Esmeralda nodded. She didn't look happy about it, but she nodded. "I never thought," she said softly, "in my wildest dreams, that I would be working for a Brand."

  Jessi smiled slowly. "My married name's Monroe, if it makes you feel any better."

  "And I was a Brennan before I married into this clan," Chelsea put in.

  "Yeah," Sara added. "And until pretty recently, I thought my last name was Jones." Esmeralda tilted her head at that. Elliot thought she must be wondering why they were speaking in kind, friendly tones to her now that she had agreed to stay.

  "It's a long story," Jessi said, her eyes fixing to Esmeralda's. "She'll tell you about it some time. So, will you stay?"

  Their gazes held for a long moment. "I will stay."

  "Good."

  Then Esmeralda waved her hands. "Then go about your own jobs. I have work to do."

  Nodding, the three women backed out of the room, all of them looking rather pleased with themselves, Elliot thought. Esmeralda, largely ignoring him, acting as if he were no more than a piece of furniture that needed to be moved so she could clean underneath it, tugged back his covers. "Into the bed, then."

  Swallowing hard, Elliot glared at her. "You never answered my question. Why did you change your mind?"

  She bent down, lifted his cast-encased leg carefully. "The leg is going back into the sling contraption," she told him. "If you don't turn in the bed, it's going to be very painful." And she started to carry out her threat.

  Elliot turned so his back was to the headboard, and Esmeralda eased his leg into the sling, very gently, despite all her threats. Then she tugged the covers over him … all except for the suspended leg. Looking around the floor, frowning, she swooped down and came up again with the sock he'd been wearing on the wounded foot.

  "I changed my mind," she said, gently easing the sock over his exposed toes, "because I thought you were too decent a man to be tricked in such a way. But now I think perhaps it was just that I am too decent a woman to do it to you. Heaven knows you deserve far worse."

  But he wasn't giving her words all that much thought. He was too busy remembering … remembering last night, when she'd taken that sock off her own foot and put it on his, and it had still been warm from her body heat. And more … before she'd done it, he recalled, she'd cupped his cold toes in her hands, warming them.

  "Does that answer your question, Elliot Brand?"

  He blinked, looked up at her. Could a woman who didn't care about him in the least really be so tender? Especially when she'd thought he wouldn't know the difference?

  "No," he said. "I have another."

  She lifted her brows and shoulders at the same time, as if she couldn't care less about his questions, and bent to pick up the fallen tray, the toppled teacup, the spoon, the little plate. She stacked them all together, and the clattering noises the dishes made seemed as angry as she had suddenly become.

  "Why did you turn down Jessi's offer just now? If all you ever wanted from me was the land, then—"

  She slammed the tray onto the bedside stand so hard he almost jumped out of the bed. "I never said that was all I wanted from you, Elliot Brand. You said that. And the reason I turned your sister down is because I want to be far away from here. Far away from you! You think what? I will build a house and live beside you every day, knowing what you think of me? I told you what I was planning, and I told you how wrong it was, and how badly I felt for ever thinking of doing such a thing to you. I apologized for ever taking the notion. I felt lower than your stinking ancestors for what I intended to do. But even then, I was never as bad as you believe me to be!"

  "Now wait a minute—"

  "No, Elliot, you wait a minute. You have insulted me to my soul. For you sit in judgment of me and brand me a harlot … and no matter what I say, you believe it to be the truth."

  He was speechless. He sat there, gaping. But when she snatched up the tray and started for the door, he knew he had to talk, and talk fast. "I never said that about you, Esmeralda. I never—"

  "You believe it." She went to the door, gripped the knob.

  "But I don't. I swear, I don't."

  "Sí. You do. Only a harlot could be with a man the way I was with you if all she wanted from him was his land. I thought I could make love to you to trick you out of this land, but I found I could not do it. I could not. When I gave myself to you, this stinking lan
d was the furthest thing from my mind, Elliot Brand. And yet you believe that is all that motivated me. So you call me a harlot." She shrugged. "And I call you a fool." Then she glanced at the spilled tea and scattered food on the floor. "I will be back to clean that up." And jerked the door open and stepped through into the hall. Then she turned and gave that door a slam that rattled the windows and Elliot's teeth along with them.

  Elliot fell back on his pillows, feeling as if he'd just attempted to have a logical conversation with a cyclone. Esmeralda Montoya blew full force from so many directions all at once that he couldn't hope to make sense of her. First she said she'd been trying to trick him into marrying her so she could have his land, then she said that wasn't the reason she'd slept with him, then she said she'd changed her mind because she thought he was decent, and then she called him the lowest form of pond slime ever to live and said she couldn't wait to get away from him.

  Hell, he was dizzy, and he didn't think it had a damned thing to do with the concussion.

  Why was she so mad at him? What the hell did she want from him, anyway? And why had she turned down Jessi's ridiculous offer?

  That was what really had him baffled. If she had gone to all this trouble to get back the land she believed she'd been cheated out of … then why the hell had she turned down the best chance she'd had of getting it?

  * * *

  Chapter 14

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  It hurt her far more than it should have to know that Elliot honestly believed she had never felt a thing for him. That he thought she had been pretending that night in the stables. That he thought she was so accomplished a liar that she could pretend something as powerful as what she felt for him. What she had felt for him.

  She stayed, but it burned at her, ate at her. And she cared for him, bringing him food and drink and aspirin for his leg. She brought him water to drink, and to wash with, but she refused to help him bathe. His sister could do that herself, or he could stay dirty. She did not particularly care one way or the other.

  He wasn't obeying her orders, but she told herself she didn't care about that, either. He would get up at will and hobble, somehow, into the bathroom attached to his bedroom. He did this a couple of times each day. She caught him hopping back to his bed now and then, so she knew. She also knew that to stand up and have the leg lowered brought on excruciating pain. So he didn't stay up long.