~ ~ ~
The rain that had started out as a gentle patter earlier today had strengthened to a downpour that pounded on the hotel’s roof and splashed noisily against Annie’s windows.
The light of a candle was all that held the darkness at bay in her cell. A single candle in a tin cup. But Annie was grateful to have it, after spending ten nights surrounded by shadows and gloom. Disbelief battled a tiny spark of pleasure as she set the candleholder on the hearth, her movements slow and stiff.
The dull ache in her ribs didn’t keep her from sighing as she watched steam curl upward from the metal tub at her feet, the warm white tendrils rising on the cool air.
Her jailer, she thought with a slow, confused shake of her head, was a man she would never figure out.
For the past week, he had been cold and distant, rarely letting her out of his sight but hardly speaking to her. He came into her cell only when it was necessary to put the handcuffs on her or remove them. When she had asked if he would take her to visit her baby’s grave, he had refused in that sarcastic, mocking tone she had come to hate.
Then today, after he had gone out for a short while and returned, she had made another request and he had granted it. Without arguing, without mocking her, without even saying a word.
He had simply sent Travis to fetch a tub and enough hot water to fill it. He even allowed her a candle so she could see what she was doing as darkness fell. Apparently he believed her when she promised she wouldn’t try to burn a hole through the wall and escape using one stubby candle.
She was stunned that he would trust her even that much. After handing it to her, he had shrugged off her thanks, locked her cell and left her alone, granting her a rare moment of privacy.
And now she stood beside the tub, his unexpected kindness leaving her confused. And a bit nervous. She shivered, but told herself it was only because her room was so chilly.
The darkened hotel was silent, except for the sound of the rain. Travis had gone home for the night. Lucas was out in the main room, probably doing what he usually did to pass the time—reading the newspapers or pacing or writing letters.
Or cleaning his gun, which he did every day. As if he always had to be ready at a moment’s notice to kill someone.
Annie shivered again. For tonight, she decided, she would try not to think of Lucas McKenna and the strange, conflicting feelings he aroused in her. Instead of puzzling over the reason behind his generosity, she’d better take advantage of it before he changed his mind.
And before the water got cold. She moved to the windows, as quickly as her injured side would allow, and closed the heavy velvet drapes. Then she picked up a cotton towel and a bar of herbal soap from her washstand—more gifts from Rebecca—and returned to the tub.
Her gaze on the steamy water, she set the soap and towel on a nearby armchair and started unbuttoning her blouse, until she happened to glance up and catch her reflection in the mirror that almost filled the wall on one side of the room.
She stopped, frowning. Whoever the original owner of this place had been, he must’ve been quite impressed with himself. Most people didn’t need anything bigger than a cheval glass to check their reflection.
Annie went to her bed, gingerly, and picked up a blanket, hanging it between the mantel and one of the bedposts, tying it securely in place with some yarn from her crocheting.
Lucas might come back into the sitting room, and she wasn’t taking any chances. It was bad enough having him see her when she was fully dressed. Every time he regarded her in that bold, direct way of his, every time their eyes met, she felt strangely breathless, hot, tingly all over. The idea of him looking at her when she wasn’t wearing any...
No, no, no. Upset by the fluttery sensation in her middle, she stepped behind the blanket and finished unbuttoning her blouse. She had to get these unsettling, unwanted thoughts under control.
Hadn’t she learned her lesson? Learned that her mama had been right? Men can’t be trusted, Mama had always said. They’re only interested in one thing. And they weren’t capable of caring or gentleness or loyalty or love. Not really, not for long.
Not when it counted.
Annie hadn’t believed any of that when she was young, naïve, dreamy-eyed. And her foolishness had cost her everything she held dear.
But never again. She would never let herself be any man’s fool again. Not ever.
Her fingers seemed to fumble with every button as she slipped out of her skirt and petticoat. She placed the garments on the chair, then gave one last, uneasy glance over her shoulder before she removed her camisole. After thinking a moment, she unfastened her bandage, too, and carefully unwrapped it. Her ribs had been feeling much better, and she didn’t want the bandage to become a soggy mess. She dropped it on the floor, slipped off her pantalettes.
Then at last she stepped into the tub. Slowly, she lowered herself down, sighing at the touch of the hot water against her bare skin, her bruised side. Even though there was only a foot of water in the dented tin bath, it felt almost luxurious after a week of making do with splashing herself at her washbasin.
The tub was just long enough that she could fit fairly comfortably, if she kept her knees up. She let herself go limp, resting her head against the edge, letting the heat soothe her body and her nerves.
After a few minutes, she hardly even noticed the throbbing ache in her ribs. They were healing well, Daniel had said a couple of days ago, when he came to examine her injuries. He had visited her twice this week, while making his rounds of patients. Fortunately, he and Lucas had been civil toward each other so far—but the air between them crackled with so much tension, she still feared they might come to blows.
Daniel had privately told her she might be ready to travel sooner than he’d expected—maybe in another two or three weeks, rather than four.
With that in mind, he had come up with an escape plan.
Apparently the lock on her cell was something called a fifteen-pin cylinder lock—which meant that to get past it, they would either need a master thief who had a great deal of time, or a skeleton key. Eventually, Eminence being the kind of place it was, Daniel had said, he might be able to come up with one or the other.
But there was still the problem of her being handcuffed to the bed whenever Lucas left the hotel. What they really needed, Daniel had decided, was a copy of the keys to the door and the handcuffs.
If one of them could get their hands on those keys for a minute, they could use some wax—a block of wax about the size of a thin bar of soap—to make impressions of each. Then they could have copies made.
And while Lucas was out one day, her friends could simply set Annie free.
Unfortunately, she had pointed out, there was one rather large problem: Lucas didn’t keep the keys on a ring or hang them on a hook somewhere. He always kept them in a pocket of his trousers.
Those snug black trousers that molded tightly to his lean body...
Annie opened her eyes and sat up, sloshing water over the side of the tub. Why did her thoughts keep wandering in that direction? She was blushing furiously, felt all jumbled up and breathless.
She splashed her face. Maybe she had a fever. Or maybe being locked up was starting to play tricks on her nerves and her mind. She had heard stories of people who went crazy from being imprisoned.
Somehow, she thought desperately, this escape plan had to work. And soon.
With a frustrated sigh, she leaned forward in the tub and reached toward the chair, carefully pressing one hand to her side, her teeth catching her lower lip at the discomfort. She scooped up the soap and dropped it in her bath, then rubbed it between her hands until it lathered.
The fresh scent of meadow herbs filled the darkened room. As Annie scrubbed at her skin and worked the soap through her hair, she vowed that somehow, she must find a way to repay her friends for all their kindness—and for taking risks to save her.
But then, she might never have that chance.
Bec
ause when she left this cell and left Eminence, it would be to spend the rest of her life as a fugitive... or in a Missouri prison. Either prospect that loomed before her looked bleak. Dangerous. Frightening.
And lonely.
She had never really felt that emotion, even though she had spent much of her life alone.
Maybe because she had never really had friends before.
Annie blinked, and it wasn’t just soap that stung her eyes. She had been right before: God had only spared her life to punish her. For what she was, for what she had done.
One painful day at a time.
The bathwater had gone cold. Slowly, she tilted her head forward and finished rinsing the soap out of her hair, wringing the tangled mass of curls between her hands. But her enjoyment had evaporated with the steam.
She stood, shivering in the chilly air, water sluicing down her body and dripping on the rug. As she reached for her towel, a noise from outside startled her, made her glance up.
It didn’t come from the sitting room—but from outside her windows.
She froze, her arm extended, her eyes widening. It had sounded like a footstep. A heavy footstep.
But who would be lurking out there at night? There wasn’t anything in back of the hotel but an empty field.
She grabbed the towel and held it against her. The drapes were closed, the room lit only by one candle. No one could see in. And she couldn’t see out. Maybe she was going crazy. It was probably just the wind. Or one of the town’s stray dogs. Or—
She heard it again: definitely a footstep, so loud and startling, she jumped backward.
And tripped on the edge of the tub.
Her weight knocked it over and she fell, yelping in panic, water splashing all over. She landed on the rug, hard, crying out in pain.
All the air knocked from her, she lay on her back in the soapsuds. The world turned hazy for a moment. She heard booted steps pounding across the sitting room’s wooden floor.
“What happened?” Lucas called from the door of her cell. “Are you all right?”
Annie couldn’t speak, her ribs ablaze with pain. She managed only a groan.
The key turned in the lock.
“No,” she croaked, gasping for air. “Don’t!”
As usual, he ignored her, yanking the door open. In a panic, she reached for her now-soaked towel and clutched it in front of her.
And just managed to conceal the bare essentials before Lucas came inside. He stepped around the blanket, carrying a lantern, his voice suspicious. “What the hell hap—”
He didn’t finish, his jaw going slack.
“I... I tripped.” Annie’s entire body was aflame with embarrassment. The lantern in his hand offered enough light for him to see far too much. She had never felt so mortified, lying there at his feet in a puddle of water and suds, covered only with a wet towel.
But to her astonishment, he didn’t mock her. Or pounce on her. He remained frozen where he stood. “Did you hurt yourself—”
“It hurts, but I...” She tried to sit up and stopped, inhaling sharply at the pain.
“Don’t move, damn it. You could’ve punctured a lung.”
“No.”
She wasn’t denying what he said but what he did: He set the lantern on a table, crouched down, and eased her back onto the rug, gently probing her side. “Can you breathe all right? Does this hurt?”
She flinched away. “Yes, it hurts.” And she did feel breathless, but wasn’t sure if that was from her injuries or from his touch. “If... if I had punctured a lung, wouldn’t I be dead by now?”
“Probably.” He arched one brow. “And you definitely wouldn’t be able to talk so much.”
Annie almost forgot the pain for a second, gazing up at him in the candlelight. The flickering shadows emphasized the strong lines of his jaw and the deep green of his eyes. With his tanned skin and his tangled black hair and his beard-stubbled cheeks, he looked so dark and masculine and somehow, so undeniably... appealing.
She really must be losing her mind.
When he touched her again, his hands closing on her shoulders, she tensed. “I’m fine,” she protested, “really.”
“Do you want to spend the rest of the night lying on a sopping wet rug?”
“N-No,” she admitted, surprised by his gentleness as he helped her to a sitting position. She sucked in a breath between her teeth. Every movement hurt, and she was shivering with cold. The wet towel she kept clutched against her wasn’t doing much good. In any way.
He stood and yanked down the blanket she had hung between the mantel and the bedpost. Then he paused, glancing at the door of her cell, which he had left open.
“Yes,” she said dryly. “My brilliant plan was to... whack you over the head with a bar of soap and... run for it.” She gulped another breath. “Bend down and I’ll give it a try.”
She wasn’t sure—couldn’t believe it—but she thought she heard a chuckle come from deep in his throat. She had never heard him laugh before.
He did bend down, but only to wrap the blanket around her shoulders. Then he helped her up.
Her legs felt as wobbly as jelly, and for once, she was grateful for his strong hold on her. He eased her onto the chaise longue in front of the windows.
“I’m not trying to escape,” she assured him, gathering the blanket around her as she sat on the edge of the plush chair. At least not at the moment, she amended privately. “Just... clumsy.”
She flicked a glance at the window and decided not to mention the mysterious footsteps. Whoever it was had no doubt heard the commotion and was long gone. It could’ve been one of her friends, working on some new and better escape plan. Or just some drunken prospector wandering along in the dark.
Lucas righted the fallen tub and scooped her clothes off the chair. “Do you want the doctor?”
She noticed that the suspicion had returned to his voice. “No,” she said, gingerly touching her throbbing side underneath the blanket. She didn’t want to drag Daniel over here in the pouring rain. She would be fine until morning, when one of her friends came to take care of her. “I think I’m all right. Just... sore. And cold.”
“That’s probably because it’s freezing in here.” He dropped her clothes into her lap.
“It usually is at night,” she said pointedly, looking up at him. “I doubt the stove in your room was meant to heat this one, too.”
Without another word, he turned and walked out into the sitting room.
Annie watched him go, her brow furrowed. So much for helping her, she thought, not sure whether she was relieved or annoyed. She glanced at the clothes in her lap. She had intended to put on a nightgown after her bath. But for the moment, the clothes at hand were better than none at all.
Getting dressed wasn’t easy, not with her aching ribs, especially since she tried to hold the blanket in place at the same time. She barely managed to wiggle into her pantalettes and camisole before Lucas reappeared, carrying an armful of wood.
“Now what are you doing?” she asked in surprise.
“As long as I’m in here with you,” he said grudgingly, “you can have a fire.”
Before Annie could decide whether to thank him or protest his continued presence in her room, he pulled the cell door shut behind him.
Then he took the key from his pocket and locked them in. Together.
Her heart made a nervous little skip. “I... I...”
“You’re welcome.”
“Thank you,” she said belatedly.
He slid the key back into his pocket, walking across the squishy rug to put the logs in the fireplace. A few moments later, with the help of the candle, he had a fire started. “You’re sure you don’t want the doctor?”
“I’m sure.” She mostly didn’t want Lucas in here with her, but apparently she wasn’t being given a choice about that.
“Good.”
Annie wasn’t sure how to interpret that soft, one-word comment. But she was grateful for the fire
. It was the first time the room had held any warmth.
Lucas straightened and looked around. “So where do your lady friends keep your bandages?”
She blinked at him. “I can wait until one of them comes tomorrow morn—”
“You’ll never be able to sleep. I’ve bandaged up my deputies before when they had busted ribs. It’ll take two minutes.”
Annie recognized that tone of voice, and knew better than to argue with him when he used it. The man was accustomed to giving orders and having them followed.
She gestured toward the dresser, surprised that her comfort mattered to him. Until today, he hadn’t seemed all that concerned about her. “Top drawer.”
He walked over and rummaged through the drawer’s contents, while she watched him, puzzled. It seemed whenever she was convinced that Lucas McKenna was utterly cold and unfeeling, he would show another side of himself. One that was gentle. Even thoughtful.
It made her suspect that this legendary lawman might actually have a heart beneath that silver star...
Annie cut that thought short, looking away, reminding herself that she didn’t dare trust her own heart. Especially when it came to men by the name of McKenna.
She’d made mistakes in judgment before. Serious mistakes. Mistakes she was not going to repeat.
He returned to her side, carrying the roll of bandages. Annie held her breath and held the blanket tightly closed at her throat as he moved behind her. In one easy motion, he swung his leg over the chaise like it was a saddle and sat down.
There were only a few inches between them... between his chest and her back. She remained very, very still. The scent of leather and the outdoors, his scent, surrounded her. The fire crackling on the hearth seemed to have gotten awfully loud. And hot.
“This isn’t going to work if you’re all wrapped up in that blanket,” he said after a moment.
“I’m not... wearing much.” She nodded toward her blouse and skirt, which were on the floor.
“I think I can handle it. You’re not that irresistible, Antoinette.”
He said it in that mocking tone. The one she hated. She gritted her teeth to hold back a tart reply, reminding herself that he was trying to help her, when he didn’t have to.
After Sundown Page 13