God help him, he wanted her, wanted her as he'd never wanted anything in his life.
A crack of thunder that resounded around him like the retort of a rifle brought his senses reeling back. As much as he wanted her, he couldn't have her. Not tonight, not ever. For what woman would desire a man who had dug his own grave and knew that he must soon lie in it?
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he eased her back into the safety of his shoulder.
"Lee?" Her voice quivered, her body trembled.
"Shh," he whispered, pressing his cheek against the top of her head. "I should not have done that."
Her agreement was only silence and a clutching of his shirt as she bowed her head.
He kicked his horse into a lope, toward Mexico and home, fearing he had waited too late to return her to her family, not certain where he would find the strength or the willingness to remove her from his life.
* * *
Angela felt as though tender bruises covered every inch of her weary body. Heat had blasted her for more days than she cared to count. Sweat had dried on sweat. She had never in her entire life been so incredibly miserable, physically or mentally.
The kiss Lee had bestowed on her in the rain haunted her, the sensations he had stirred to life continued to brew. She had wanted his mouth on her then, she wanted it now. Yet she knew desires were a danger to them and had to be banked, abandoned, forgotten.
She heard horses trotting in the distance. She smelled a pleasant aroma that made her mouth water and her stomach tighten.
The tension in Lee's body seemed to drain away. "We're nearly home, querida," he said quietly. "It is late, almost everyone will be in bed, and I don't want to disturb them, so we must be very quiet."
The thought of sleeping in a bed almost made her weep. "I can be as quiet as a mouse."
He brought his horse to a halt. She heard footsteps on planked flooring. A porch.
"Keeping watch, Alejandro?" he asked.
"I thought you planned to take the woman home first," Alejandro said, displeasure evident in his voice.
"We ran into some trouble and I wanted to make sure you were all right." Lee dismounted, then helped her climb off the horse.
"What sort of trouble?" Alejandro asked.
Lee placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her forward. "There was more than one group … step up, querida … of riders … step up. I was afraid you might have run into an ambush."
"We saw no one."
"Good. Then they must have all been following us. See to the comfort of my horse while I show Angela where she can sleep." With his hand still on her back, he prodded her gently. "Come, querida, welcome to our humble abode."
The hinges moaned as he opened the door. Angela ran her hand quickly across wood. She had expected adobe. Inside the doorway, a rug muffled her passing.
She heard Lee pick up a lamp as he led her across a large room. Her feet hit wood and then another rug. Wood again. The echo of her footsteps changed, indicating the walls were closer together. A hallway. Snoring.
"Eduardo snores," Lee whispered.
"Eduardo?" He had yet another brother.
"Sí. You will meet him tomorrow."
He led her into a room. "You can sleep in here."
Her fingers skimmed the carved post of a bed. She sank onto the mattress. Heaven. She ran her hand over the quilt, noting the stitching, the design, varying scraps of cloth joined together to create a whole. She gave into temptation and curled onto her side. Lee's scent rose up from the pillow and wafted around her. Her eyelids immediately grew heavy, her mind dull. As sleep overcame her, she had a vague notion that Lee had slept here before.
* * *
Lee sauntered to the last stall in the barn, where he found Alejandro brushing Lee's horse like a man possessed. He leaned against the beam and crossed his arms over his chest. "You are scraping off his hide."
Alejandro took only a second to glare at him before returning his attention to the animal. "I cannot believe you brought the woman here."
"Her name is Angela."
"And because of her, you will hang. How long do you think it will take her to figure out who you are?"
"She is blind."
"Then that makes two of you."
Alejandro's retort stung Lee's pride. He'd always put his family first. Perhaps, Alejandro was right and this time he hadn't. "I know I cannot have her."
"But that does not stop you from wanting her."
Lee clenched his teeth, refusing to acknowledge his brother's comment, wondering if his desire for Angela was apparent or if Alejandro was only guessing.
Alejandro stopped brushing and met his gaze. "Ramon knew he could not have Christine Shelby, but he did not have the strength to deny her and look what his love cost us."
"No!" Lee stepped into the stall. He refused to accept that his oldest brother and the woman he had loved were responsible for the tragedy that had befallen the family. Shelby's hatred and greed had guided his actions. "You cannot blame Ramon—"
"All I know is that Shelby made idle threats until he discovered Ramon and Christine by the river. Why do you think he hanged Ramon instead of you or me?"
With a weary sigh, Lee plowed his fingers through his hair. Sometimes, it was impossible to carry on a conversation with Alejandro.
"When was the last time you slept?" Alejandro asked quietly.
Lee forced a corner of his mouth to curl into a mock smile. "I slept here and there."
Alejandro shook his head. "You would not let yourself sleep because you would not want her to hear your screams."
Lee never knew if they were the cries of a frightened child or a terrified man. "A man attacked her."
Just as Lee knew it would, all the anger drained from Alejandro. "What?"
"A man broke away from the pack of wolves following us. Since Angela thought her father had sent him, I let her wait for his arrival, but he was one of Shelby's men. I knocked him out before he did much harm."
"You should have killed him."
"One man's death on my conscience is enough, Alejandro."
"You had no choice where his death was concerned."
Lee nodded, not wanting to remember the horror of that night, but it was always there, skulking in the shadows of his memory, waiting for someone to cast the light upon it. Alejandro was skilled at doing just that, determined to remind him that he had been given no choice … but a part of him wondered, always wondered.
"Try to get some sleep," Alejandro ordered before turning back to the horse, stroking the brush over the animal's flank with a bit more gentleness.
"Once I have rested, I will take her home."
"See that you do, brother. Her presence here threatens all of us."
* * *
When he was a boy, Lee had learned the value of quietly creeping toward his prey. He could never remember who had taught him or why he'd determined that his very existence depended on silence, but it was a skill that he put into practice when the mood suited him … as it did now. Like smoke on a gentle soughing wind, he crept across his sister's room and eased onto the mattress.
With a touch as light as a butterfly landing on a petal, he brushed Juanita's dark strands away from her lovely face. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
"It's Lee," he whispered softly, not wanting to alarm her. She frightened so easily.
She bolted upright and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. "You're home."
He wanted desperately to hug her in return, as he had when they were children, but he understood too well her aversion to being held, so he kept his arms at his sides, unthreatening. He would give his life to return to her the innocence she'd lost that fateful night.
She leaned back slightly. "Do you want me to cook you something to eat?"
"No. I'm tired, but I wanted to see you before I went to bed."
"I was very worried when Alejandro returned without you. He said you had to take a woman home … he made no sense."
<
br /> He could well imagine that Alejandro had been vague, trying not to worry her. They all sought to protect her, and now he wondered if their solicitude was causing more harm than good. "Her name is Angela. She is here."
"You brought her here?"
"Sí. Soon, I will take her home, but first I wanted to make certain everyone made it home safely. You will like her. She is very strong."
"She is a big woman?"
Lee smiled warmly and touched his chest. "In here, she is very strong."
"I will make her most welcome."
"I know you will." And perhaps Angela could teach Juanita not to be afraid. He glanced toward the narrow bed nestled against the wall beneath the window where a small boy slept. "How is Miguel?"
"He missed you. He asked about you every day."
"I will visit with him tomorrow. Now, go back to sleep."
She settled down onto the mattress. "Will you watch over me for a while?"
"Always." A promise that he knew was a lie, because a time would come when he would answer for his crimes, and the revelation would require a sacrifice. Although he often felt that he'd made one five years ago. He continued to breathe, to exist, but he did not live … did not dream … did not dare hope that he would ever have all he had once longed for.
He watched as her eyes drifted closed and waited until her breathing grew faint. Then he leaned over and kissed her brow before quietly quitting the room.
In the hallway, he contemplated using Alejandro's bed. The worrier would probably keep watch outside the house for the remainder of the night, but Lee had no desire to be alone, and he doubted he would sleep anyway. On the few occasions when sleep came, it was too troubled to be restful, and Alejandro was right. With Angela near, he would not succumb to the deep well of slumber where his nightmares held vigil.
Silently he made his way down the corridor. He and his brothers had built this house. It was not fancy, but it was comfortable. It could not replace the hacienda they had shared with their parents in southern Texas, but one day he would give them a home as grand as they'd once had. Reaching his bedroom, he stood in the doorway, mesmerized by a sight he'd never thought to see.
The lamp he'd left on the table beside his bed earlier burned low. Beyond the window beckoned the darkness of night, and in his bed, a woman unknowingly lured him. Her hair fanned out across his pillow. With one hand tucked beneath her cheek, she was curled on her side. His chest tightened. How quickly she had stolen into his life, how difficult it would be to send her home. But he knew he must. He'd managed to elude this group of henchmen … but what about the next?
He'd left his boots at the front door. He walked in bare feet across a familiar floor and sat on the mattress where an incredibly courageous woman slept. He imagined the kind of man who would marry her, a man who had not shed blood, who had not violated the laws of God and man.
He knew he should make himself a pallet on the floor or retire to Alejandro's bed. Listening to her soft, even breathing, he stretched out beside her. When she didn't stir, he circled his arm around her waist and pressed his cheek against the top of her head. Since when—where she was concerned—had he done what he should do?
* * *
Angela awoke, her eyes gritty, her neck stiff, her body weighted down with the pressure of Lee's arm draped over her side, his leg slung over hers. The times they had slept on the ground, she'd nestled her body against his to ward off the chill of the night, but this position seemed much more scandalous, especially since they were in what she was certain was his bed, the sheets creating a cocoon of intimacy. His warm breath skimmed along the nape of her neck, producing delicious hot shivers along her spine.
She became aware of someone else's breath, quick, shallow, and near. Incredibly near.
"Lee, are you awake?" a child whispered loudly.
Beside her, Lee stirred. "Do I look awake, Miguel?" he mumbled.
"No, but you sound awake. La señorita es muy bonita."
"Sí," Lee replied. "But you must be very quiet so you do not wake her."
"She's already awake," Angela informed him.
Lee groaned. "Sorry, querida, I wanted you to be able to sleep late, but I do not think the sun has been up for long." He yawned. "Meet my brother Miguel."
She would have scrambled to a sitting position, but Lee still had her pinned in place. Even though Miguel was only a child, she felt the heat burn her cheeks with the thought of his seeing her in this compromising position. She swallowed and spoke calmly as though being caught in bed with a man to whom she was not married wasn't disgraceful. "Hello."
"Buenos días, señorita."
"You must speak English, Miguel," Lee chided gently.
"Why?"
"Because she does not know as much Spanish as you do."
"Why?"
"Her mother and father are not Mexican."
"Oh."
She heard Lee breathe a sigh of relief and decided to ask her own question. "How old are you?"
Silence. She wondered if perhaps he had a limited knowledge of English.
"Miguel, she cannot see your fingers," Lee said quietly. "You must always speak to her."
"Why can't she see my fingers?" Miguel asked.
"She is blind."
"And she is present," Angela reminded him, "so you don't have to talk about her as though she can't speak for herself."
Lee chuckled. "She gets mad easily." She felt Lee shift as though he was reaching across her and ruffling someone's hair. "But not at you, only at me. Tell her how old you are."
"Soon I will be four." He made it sound as though the age was so much more important than three years, as though three were not even worth acknowledging.
"Now, go tell Juanita that I am hungry," Lee said.
The child padded out of the room with bare feet.
"He seems incredibly sweet," Angela mused.
"He is a good boy."
"And you've raised him," she said.
"We've all helped to raise him."
She knew women who had children late in life, but it was obvious that many years separated this little one from his siblings.
Lee rolled off the mattress. "I will bring you some breakfast and then you can have the bath I promised you."
She listened as he left the room. Then she threw back the covers and scrambled out of bed. She could feel the heat of the sun on her face. Carefully, she began crossing the room to the window. Her fingers touched the smooth surface of the glass just as her toes made contact with a wooden box.
She knelt and ran her hand over the ragged edges of the contents. Books. Small books. She lifted one and riffled the frayed pages. Based on their diminutive size, she guessed that she'd discovered his cache of dime novels. She felt along the edge of the box and found another box beside it. The books here were larger, with leather covers. Beside it she located another box of books. Why didn't he place them on shelves?
Cautiously she circled the room. A bureau with four drawers. She was curious enough to open them and discovered only two had clothes in them; the others were empty. Nothing sat on top of the dresser. The walls were bare. She found a table beside the bed, its only adornment a solitary lamp.
Remembering the rug that had muffled her passing the night before, and the aromas that had greeted her when she'd first walked through the door, she sank onto the bed. The house possessed a definite feeling of being lived in, but not this room. It was as lonely as the man who slept here, a temporary haven that showed no signs of permanence because Lee Raven knew his days were numbered.
She listened for the whirl of wheels as wagons or carriages traveled by, the laughter of people, the din of conversation. She heard nothing but the soughing sigh of the wind and the unmistakable quiet of isolation.
* * *
Chapter 10
« ^ »
One Sunday afternoon shortly after her nineteenth birthday, Angela had sat in the front parlor awaiting the arrival of her first gentleman caller, an o
ut-of-town friend to one of the men who had been courting her younger sister Heather. Nervous, anxious, fearful that he would find her lacking, she had been more relieved than disappointed when he never arrived.
But all her concerns then paled in comparison to her worries now. She sat on the edge of Lee's bed, the breakfast he'd brought her sitting heavy in her stomach, while she awaited the arrival of his sister. She had faced unknown suitors, even an outlaw, with more confidence. Her favorite dress was torn beyond repair, her hair was a tangled mess, and she carried the fragrance of too many days' travel.
For the life of her, she couldn't determine why she had any desire to impress Lee's sister. For pity's sake, the woman probably possessed no morals at all. She no doubt entertained other outlaws, perhaps warmed their beds. Maybe she drank, cussed, and wore a gun slung low on her hip. She would not be living with her brother now if she did not condone his actions, and that sanction made her as guilty as he was.
Angela's mouth went dry when she heard boots and slippered feet in the hallway. Slowly she rose, wiped her damp palms on her filthy skirt, and pasted on a false smile as the footsteps came to a halt.
"Oh, Lee, you did not tell me she was in pain," a soft voice exclaimed. A rush of movement followed, and then hands, smaller than Lee's, were resting on her shoulders. "Please sit, señorita, and tell me where you hurt. I will make you a poultice or a brew—"
"I'm not hurting," Angela assured her.
"Then why do you grimace?" she asked quietly.
"I was smiling."
"Oh, señorita, lo siento mucho. I misunderstood. You have a … a beautiful smile."
Angela felt her face transform as all her apprehension melted away and she truly smiled. "I doubt that. It was a nervous grin. I wasn't certain what to expect."
"But what I see now is a beautiful smile, Angela," Lee said in a seductive voice, as though they were the only two people in the room. "I do not think you have ever shown me this smile."
"I haven't had many reasons to be happy since you abducted me," she pointed out.
"That is my regret and my loss. Juanita will see to your needs. Don't ask my family what I look like."
THE OUTLAW AND THE LADY Page 9