by Sara Orwig
She struggled against him, succeeding only in making him laugh. He ran his hand over her breasts as she struggled. Through the rest of the night, they alternately cantered away from the station or slowed to a walk, with Rake’s hands roaming over her freely. With her hands tied behind her back, she couldn’t do anything to get away. She had felt the revolver in the holster press against her hip, yet there was no way she could get her hands on it or use it as long as her wrists were tied. The gag hurt her mouth, and she was miserable. He tried to slide his hands between her legs again and she squirmed and struggled against him, her cries of outrage muffled by the rags.
“We’re going to get far enough out that no one can hear you and I can watch you all day long,” he said. “And that husband of yours can’t come get you because a bounty hunter is taking him to Missouri.”
She froze, looking at Rake with a frown. A bounty hunter had Luke!
“By the time they get to Missouri and the bounty hunter learns he has the wrong man and then your husband travels all the way home again, I’ll have had my fun with you.”
Honor stared at him. A bounty hunter had Luke, but didn’t know he had the right man?
Rake studied her. “You can’t understand what I’m telling you, can you? I paid a bounty hunter to take your husband to Missouri. I found a poster of a wanted man, Luther Webster, from Saint Joseph, Missouri. Your husband bears a resemblance of sorts to that drawing, so the bounty hunter might convince them it’s the right man and collect his reward. But even if Webster has been tried and hanged, and they say your husband is innocent, I’ll have had my time with you. And who knows, the hunter may even convince them Luke McCloud is really Luther Webster and your husband will hang for a crime he didn’t commit,” Rake said, laughing.
Honor turned away, her mind racing over what he had told her. Luke was with a bounty hunter! That was why he hadn’t come home. Regret filled her that she hadn’t guessed that possibility and had Dusty and some of the men ride after Luke to bring him home.
“And then, when I’m through with you,” Rake said slyly in her ear, “I’m taking you home. I want him to come after me. My men and I will destroy him along with any others who fight us and I’ll get the H Bar R. Or if you don’t tell him what you and I did together,” Rake said slyly, “you can have more again someday if you want. You might find out you’re with a real man now.”
She rode quietly, worrying now about Luke and the man who had taken him captive. Luke would fight to get free. Moonlight bathed a stretch of road ahead and as she realized Rake was following the old stage trail, her pulse jumped with hope. As long as he followed the trail, there was a chance of someone happening along, and there was no way he could explain a woman in her nightgown with her hands tied behind her and a gag tied over her mouth.
Rake stopped at a stream to water the horses. He removed the gag from her and shoved her against a tree, pinning her between the trunk and his body while he kissed her hard, bruising her mouth and making her lip bleed, letting his hands roam over her again.
When they mounted up, he put her on the other horse. “Don’t try to run from me. I have the better horse, and I can catch you easily.”
“I can’t run from you with my hands tied,” she said bitterly.
Holding the reins to her horse, he mounted up and moved ahead, and she saw he still followed the trail.
As the first faint rays of dawn began to lighten the sky, Rake glanced back at her.
“Here comes daylight, Injun. As soon as I find a place I want to stop, my fun begins. I’ve known the day would come when I’d have you. We’re in the open now, but not for long. Watch the sun come up. As soon as it tips over the horizon, you’re mine.”
Honor felt fury burn through her, making her nerves raw. She eyed the revolver in his holster and wondered if she would have any chance to get it. Would he untie her hands? She surveyed the area around her as they rode across a stretch of rolling land covered with cactus and mesquite and grass. Ahead was a hill covered in a stand of oaks, and she suspected that when he reached the cover of the trees, Rake would stop. They were still on the stage trail, and she was certain he would leave it soon, but as long as they stayed close to it, there was a chance of someone coming along.
Mourning doves cooed softly, and dew sparkled on the grass as the eastern sky became pink. It should have been the promise of a glorious spring day, but instead, Honor knew it would be a day of horror. Rage smoldered in her, and she was determined to get free of Acheson.
She glanced all around her as Rake moved close, yanking her off the second horse back to his, pulling her up against him. She rode sideways, not wanting to sit astride because of his hands roaming over her. He held her tightly with his arm around her waist while he held the reins with the other hand.
“See those trees ahead? That’s where we leave this trail. As long as we were on the trail, no one could really track us because there are so many other tracks. We made better time that way, but it’s time to take our own way home. No one will see you or hear you. I’ve been waiting for this since the morning I shot your pa.”
Honor’s gaze swept the horizon. There wasn’t a rider or a stage anywhere. But as she turned to look over her shoulder, she gasped, and her heart seemed to stop beating. On the far horizon, at the top of a hill, strung out in a long line, were two dozen warriors, their lances held ready, the feathered war bonnets showing against the blue morning sky.
“Look!” she exclaimed, pointing toward the north to a hill about half a mile away. Rake inhaled swiftly.
“God!” he exclaimed. “They’re your damned Comanche relatives. You—”
“No, they’re not,” she answered coldly. “We’re in Kiowa territory. I don’t know them and they don’t know me,” she lied, looking at the tall warrior in the center of the line, seeing the familiar silhouette, the stiff bearing, knowing it was Tall Wind. Her heart pounded with eagerness because Rake Acheson would never possess her or hurt her again.
Suddenly she threw herself away from Rake, breaking his hold. Honor fell from the horse and hit the ground. She lost her breath and felt pain ripple across her shoulders.
Cries of the warriors carried on the wind, and Rake was soon gone, galloping away. Honor scrambled to her feet, standing and facing the warriors swooping down on them.
The wind whipped her long hair around her face while her nightgown flapped against her legs. She looked around for Rake, and as her gaze swept across the rolling land, her heart again stopped beating because she recognized the man who rounded the bend and appeared on the trail to the west of her.
Twenty-four
Luke saw the warriors and started to turn back, but then he noticed something else. Rake Acheson rode along the trail, and he held Honor in front of him. Her white nightgown billowed around her long legs, and her hair blew over Rake as wind swept down across the land. Rage at Acheson consumed Luke, and he urged his horse forward, kicking the sorrel to a gallop, desperate to get to Honor whether he had to fight Acheson or the warriors.
As Luke urged his horse to a gallop, Honor flung herself from the horse. And then, with loud war cries, the warriors charged. His blood ran cold even as he raised his rifle to aim at Acheson, who wheeled his horse around to escape, leaving Honor behind.
Before Luke fired, he glanced to his left and saw the warriors were not riding in his direction, but were after Honor and Rake. And then Luke recognized Tall Wind. Leaving Acheson to the warriors, Luke jammed the rifle into its scabbard and leaned over his mount to charge toward Honor.
He saw the Comanche reach her and they looked as if they would gallop over her. She was standing straight and tall, her long black hair whipping around her face, her nightgown billowing, and emotions churned in Luke—admiration and love for Honor, rage for Acheson taking her. Without breaking stride, Tall Wind lifted her easily to his horse and then veered toward Luke, and Luke’s heart pounded with joy as he raced to meet them.
Strands of her black hair blew acr
oss Tall Wind’s broad, dark shoulders, and she had his same arrogant manner as she sat up in front of him, both of them looking proud and unassailable. Love for her welled up in Luke, and then Tall Wind was only yards away and all Luke could do was look in Honor’s dark eyes and see the spill of tears as she held out her arms.
Tall Wind rode close, and Luke leaned over, stretching out his arm to lift Honor to his horse. Her arms banded his neck tightly and he glanced beyond her into the warrior’s dark eyes, seeing Tall Wind’s satisfaction. Luke nodded, making the sweeping hand signs with both hands, palms down, to signal his gratitude. Before he turned and galloped away, Tall Wind nodded. Luke quickly turned his attention to Honor, who clung to him, her face pressed against his neck. He squeezed her tightly around the waist as if making certain she was actually in his arms. Desire raged within him, a need for her sweetness and fire, a need to bury himself in her and reaffirm that she was here and safe and that she was his woman.
He turned to ride back the way he had come, wanting to get away from the warriors and Acheson, certain Tall Wind and the others would join him when they were finished with Acheson.
“My love,” he whispered gruffly, leaning down to her ear while he cantered toward the trees. “Honor, I didn’t break my promise to you intentionally—”
“I know you didn’t,” she said, raising her face while tears still spilled over her cheeks. “Rake said a bounty hunter had taken you to Missouri and then he—”
She broke off her words at the thought of Rake, and Luke’s arm tightened around her. “Your father and Enrique are avenged,” he said quietly.
She nodded and clung to Luke, placing her head against his chest.
He stopped at a creek and dismounted. Lifting her down and framing her face with his hands, for the first time he saw her swollen lip and bruised cheek and his rage soared.
“Damn the bastard to hell! He hurt you!” Luke wanted to fling himself on his horse and join the warriors, but he suspected Acheson was already dead.
“It’s not bad,” she said, running her hands over Luke’s shoulders, touching his lower lip with the tips of her fingers. He quickly forgot Acheson.
“Honor, I love you,” he whispered, and then wrapped his arms around her to kiss her, kissing her hard and long with such hunger it was as if he had waited years instead of days.
Honor’s heart pounded with joy and she held him, kissing him in return, her hands sliding over him until he leaned away and caught her wrists. “I think Tall Wind and the others will return soon.”
“Look at me,” she said, glancing down, embarrassed to be in her nightgown.
“I am,” he answered in a husky voice, “and I want to take that gown off, but I can’t right now.” He tilted her chin up. “And I wish I were with them to finish off Acheson for touching you.” Luke framed her face with his hands. “Honor, tell me the truth—did he do more to hurt you than what I’ve seen?”
“No. He took me from the stage station and he stole one of their horses. He said that was why he stayed on the stage trail last night because they wouldn’t be able to track him as easily. He was trying to get a good distance away from the station before we—”
Luke placed his hands over her mouth. “If you weren’t hurt badly, I don’t need to know more about it.”
“Luke, I can’t face all the warriors in my nightgown.”
Luke grinned and glanced at his mount. He crossed to untie the bedroll behind his saddle and shook out a blanket, returning to drape it over her shoulders.
“There, now you look just like their women.”
She looked at him, a glint of old uncertainty in her eyes. “Is that good or bad?”
“Ah, Honor,” he said, feeling a twist in his heart. “This morning I was never so thankful for anything in my life as I was for your Comanche blood. I told you once before, you’re a beautiful woman because of your heritage.” His words slowed and his voice grew deep as he stepped close to her again.
At the sound of hoofbeats, he looked around. Tall Wind, Gray Hawk, and the other warriors approached through the trees. Luke strode forward to meet them, and Honor stood, waiting to greet them after they had talked to Luke.
Soon they were seated in a circle, sharing a pipe, while Honor sat off to one side, the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. Her gaze slid again to Tall Wind’s lance, to which a scalp of brown hair was secured, and she felt a swift stab of satisfaction that finally justice had been done for her father’s death as well as Enrique’s.
When they mounted up, Honor rode with Luke, demurely sitting sidesaddle, while the warriors rode with them for the next few hours. Once Honor twisted around to glance at Luke, who gazed back at her with a smoldering look that made her heart thud, and she forgot for a moment what she had been about to say.
“What is it, Honor?” Luke asked.
She frowned and then remembered. “My trunk and my clothes are at the stage station.”
“We can’t take them home on this horse. After we get home, I’ll send someone for them with a wagon.”
She nodded and turned around, leaning her head back against him and feeling his arm tighten around her waist. She longed to be home alone with him.
When it came time to part, Luke reined in and Tall Wind rode close to them. He reached out and touched Honor’s cheek, and she felt a tight knot in her throat, thinking of what these warriors had done for her.
“Tsaatu.”
Tall Wind nodded and glanced at Luke, who made a sign to thank him.
Honor glanced once more at the scalp on the lance, then turned away.
Luke headed south toward the H Bar R and within an hour he spotted a meandering creek shaded by tall cottonwoods and lined with junipers. He led the horse to water and dismounted, lifting Honor down, taking the blanket a few yards away and spreading it on the ground.
Honor watched him return, her heart racing with eagerness as she walked into his arms to kiss the man she loved.
It was nightfall when they reached home and as they approached the barn, a man’s deep voice came from the shadows. “Who is it?” he asked in a challenging voice.
“It’s Luke,” he replied, recognizing Will’s voice. “I have Honor with me.”
Will emerged from the shadows with his rifle in hand. “Glad to see you both home. I didn’t expect this. We thought both of you would be in Missouri.”
“We’re glad to be here, instead,” Luke said, dismounting.
“Is everything all right?” Honor asked.
“Yep. No trouble.”
“Acheson is dead,” Luke said, swinging her down and setting her on her feet. “Go on, Honor. I’ll be in as soon as I take care of my horse.”
Honor hurried toward the house, hearing the men’s voices as they talked. She gazed at the pale outline of the house, thankful to be home, pushing aside all worries for now about Luke’s returning to Missouri. At the moment she wanted to be alone with him, and that’s all she would think about.
Honor heated water for a bath as Luke entered and closed the door, then leaned back against it. She turned to look around at him. He was dusty, his leather vest hanging open over his white shirt, the red bandanna tied loosely around his neck, his hat pushed back and his denim pants covered with dust, yet he looked marvelous to her. She looked into his green eyes, seeing the longing and warmth, and she flew across the room into his waiting arms.
It was dawn when she stirred to feathery kisses trailing over her face as Luke pulled her into his arms once again. “Honor, my Comanche woman, I love you.” His hand cupped her breast, his thumb circling her nipple while he bent over her to kiss her and she pulled him closer and thought and talk spun away.
Over two hours later he sat up in bed. “Honor—”
She sat up and put her fingers on his mouth. “I can hear that tone in your voice, Luke. You’re getting ready to talk about Missouri.” She twisted to face him, sitting with her long legs folded under her while she held the sheet to her chin with on
e hand and kept her other over his mouth.
“I don’t want you to go back to Missouri,” she said emphatically, looking him in the eye and praying she could convince him to stay home. “Luke, please take a chance on no one ever coming after you. What you did was defend your mother and yourself, so it was justified. Please, Luke—”
He caught her hand and gazed at her solemnly. “Can I get a word in here?”
She felt tears sting her eyes because she knew what she had just suffered, and she didn’t want to go through it again. She didn’t want to cry in front of Luke when the night had been so wonderful, so she bit her lower lip and blinked her eyes to fight back the tears.
“I talked to Matt. He told me to do the same thing you want me to do—forget the past.”
“Oh, Luke!” she exclaimed, joy filling her until she saw that his solemn expression remained unchanged.
“Honor, what just happened made me realize that the same thing will hang over me until I clear my name. At any point in time a bounty hunter could come along and take me away from here like that one did.”
“But it’s so unlikely,” she said, barely able to get the words out. “They didn’t even think they had the right man.”
“I know they didn’t.” Luke turned away to gaze out the window. A muscle worked in his jaw, and she guessed he was fighting with himself about what to do.
“Luke, take a chance for me. I want to take the risk.”
His gaze swung back, and his hand went behind her head to hold her as he looked at her. Then he sat up swiftly, leaning forward to kiss her as hard and hungrily as if there had been no night of lovemaking.
He shifted away finally. “I don’t want to go back, Honor. I have to catch up with the men before they’re hopelessly ahead of me. I don’t want to leave you—I wish we had weeks alone like this.”
Honor wound her arms around his neck and let the sheet that was between them fall away. “You’re a fast rider. We’ll both catch up with them in a few days because they travel slowly. But this is the first time we’ve ever been alone and I’ve had you to myself, Luke McCloud—”