THE OUTLAW AND THE LADY

by Lorraine Heath

  "Even if I never took another cent of Shelby's money, I am still wanted for murder."

  "I know, but if we were to stay here—"

  "You said yourself that this is no life."

  "And you said it was better than nothing at all. It's where I want to be."

  He shot off the bed with such force that it rocked. He had not expected this. Had not expected her to want to stay. His inadequacies suddenly surfaced. He wanted more for her, so much more than what he had to offer. Did she fully understand what she was sacrificing for him? "Where you want to be? This land is not ours! We are … like squatters. When the Mexican government discovers us here, we will have to leave."

  She shrugged. "Then we'll leave."

  "Where will we go?"

  "If you refuse to try to get back the land that is rightfully yours, then we'll go somewhere else. The New Mexico Territory, California, Canada. I don't care. Just so we're together."

  His knees hit the floor with a resounding thud and he took her hands. "Angela, I can't give you fancy dresses."

  "I don't want fancy dresses. I want you, Lee. I love you."

  He groaned low in his throat as he pressed her fingertips to his lips. "I have to think on this."

  "Think on it all you want; I'm not leaving."

  He chuckled. "You are a stubborn woman, Angela Bainbridge."

  "Determined." She bracketed her hands on either side of his face. "Don't take me back to Fortune, Lee. Please."

  "You must promise me that if I am ever captured, you will forget me."

  He did not pressure her for the promise that she was unwilling to give. Instead, he feathered kisses over her face, tasting her tears, tears wept for him. For once, he wished she could see, could look into his eyes and know the depth of the love he held for her. Because she could not, he would have to show her.

  Tenderly, he eased her down to the bed…

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  « ^ »

  "It sounds as though you're packing," Angela said, as she brought the sheet up to her throat. Outside, a rooster crowed.

  Lee stilled and she wondered how long he'd been moving about the room before his actions disturbed her, how long he might have gazed at her exposed breasts. The heat suffused her body with the thought of all they'd shared last night.

  She'd looked forward to waking in his arms this morning, and somehow she'd managed to lose her opportunity.

  "I have to leave for a few days."

  She shoved herself into a sitting position. "Where are you going?"

  He sighed before dropping onto the edge of the bed. He softly touched his lips to hers. Circling her arm around his neck, she deepened the kiss. He groaned low in his throat, nudged the sheet aside, and cradled her breast.

  She had become a wanton woman, willing to do anything to keep her man beside her. And he had become her man. If she couldn't convince him to save himself, she would find a way to rescue him from the hangman's noose.

  He broke off the kiss. "I have to see someone." He stroked his thumb over her lips. "I'll miss you, querida."

  Fear etched itself into her heart as she grabbed his arm, digging her fingers into his muscles, fearful for what he was about to do and what it might cost them. "Lee, please don't take any more of Shelby's money."

  "I won't—not today, at least—but I must dispose of the money I have."

  "What are you going to do with it?"

  He bussed a quick kiss over her lips. "Don't ask so many questions."

  "Damn it, Lee, trust me. You can't truly love me if you don't trust me."

  He touched his forehead to hers. She heard him swallow, felt the tension radiating from his body. Why did he find it so difficult to trust?

  "I won't betray you," she whispered.

  "I know that, it is just that some things are not mine alone to tell. But this I will tell you. In memory of Ramon, we give the money where it is most needed. Shelby hates Mexicans. So his money is used to better their lives, to build a school, a church, a home."

  "Why aren't you using the money to bring Shelby to justice?"

  "I have told you that it was his word against ours. We did not think anyone would listen to us. So we decided to take his money. He cannot build his empire; slowly it crumbles. Sometimes, I think too slowly, but a day will come when he will leave and we will return."

  "There has to be a better way to bring him to justice."

  He stood. She heard him pick up his saddlebags. "I'll think on it."

  She whispered hoarsely, "Vaya con dios."

  "Always."

  * * *

  Lee strode into the barn, where Alejandro had his horse waiting. "Gracias."

  "Which one should I saddle for the woman?" Alejandro asked.

  Lee slung his saddlebags into place. "I'm not taking Angela."

  Alejandro narrowed his eyes. "Why not? It is the perfect opportunity. You deliver the money to Christine on the other side of the border, and then you simply go on to Fortune."

  Bending his head and shaking it, Lee scrutinized the scuff marks on his boots, the well-worn heels. He remembered the fancy dress Angela had been wearing the night he had bumped into her outside the bank. What had he been thinking that night? And what had he been thinking when he'd first laid his body over hers? Even if he weren't an outlaw, he had nothing of himself worthy enough for her. "There is nothing simple about this situation."

  "Only because you insist on making it difficult. The woman is going to get you hanged."

  "The woman has a name." He lifted his head and held his brother's gaze. "I love her, Alejandro."

  Alejandro looked as though he wanted to smash his fist into something hard. "Just like Ramon."

  "Nothing like Ramon, and you know it."

  Alejandro seemed to sag. "What are you going to do?"

  "That I have not decided. She thinks Kit Montgomery and her father could help us find justice."

  "What they will do is get you hanged."

  Lee slapped his saddlebag and the horse sidestepped. "What is this accomplishing? When we were young, scared, and lost, our plan for revenge seemed very grand. But now we are older, not easily frightened. For the first time in my life, with Angela, I do not feel lost. I see things now that I did not before. What kind of a life is this for Miguel? He has no friends. He knows no children. And Juanita? She is afraid of her shadow. Seeking revenge has only managed to take away our freedom. Even this land we live on is not ours! If the Mexican government discovers us, they will shoo us away like pesky horseflies. They will probably take your cattle. We need to put our efforts toward getting your land back."

  "It is your land as well."

  "No, it's not." Lee watched the dust motes waltzing through the sunlight filtering into the barn. Running his hand over his shirt, he felt the tiny scars that had been with him for so long that he no longer noticed them, no longer questioned their origin. But Angela had him wondering about a great many things lately. "Do you remember anything about the night your father found me?"

  Alejandro shook his head. "Very little. I remember the blood. I had never seen so much. They did not expect you to live, but you have always been stubborn."

  "From the beginning, they treated me as though I had been born to them. I often forget that I wasn't."

  "They loved you. You were a good son," Alejandro said.

  "Not so good when I have brought their children to this." He mounted. "If I do not return, give me your word that you'll protect Angela and take her to her father."

  "Why would you not return?"

  "The road I travel has many forks in it, Alejandro. Give me your word."

  "I will return her to her father. Vaya con dios."

  * * *

  The bells tolled midnight as Lee quietly entered the sanctuary through the front door. He was always amazed at the peace that descended over him as he stood at the back. The simple church had a way of easing a troubled soul. It was a fine testament to the memory of his brother,
a gentle man who had never raised his voice in anger or lifted his hand to harm another.

  Out of respect for his mother's teachings, Lee crossed himself quickly before walking toward the altar where candles flickered. He knelt before the railing and bowed his head, but he no longer prayed. His soul was beyond redemption, and he wouldn't insult God by asking for His help in seeking vengeance.

  "I was afraid you wouldn't come," the woman kneeling beside him whispered.

  He had always thought Christine was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen—until Angela had stumbled into his life.

  "I learned too late that the bank in Fortune was a trap," she added, contempt for her father evident in every word.

  "I assumed it would be—so far from home. So I was very cautious." He'd anticipated everything except a lady walking at midnight. "Do you know who the men were that your father hired?"

  She sighed wearily. "No, I only know that they lost your trail after some storm. Thank goodness."

  Lee breathed a sigh relief. The rain had served him well.

  "Father was furious. He's planning to increase the bounty he's personally contributing for your capture. With that and the five hundred the state offers, it's getting terribly dangerous." Tears welled in her eyes. "No matter what we do, it doesn't stop the pain, and it doesn't ease the guilt."

  "You are not to blame for what happened that night."

  "I'll stop blaming myself when you stop blaming yourself."

  A corner of his mouth quirked up. "Fair enough."

  Concern filled her blue eyes. "I heard that you abducted a lady."

  He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I know you well enough to know you haven't hurt her, but I can't speak out in your defense without giving myself away."

  He could argue that he had hurt Angela, feared that he'd caused harm that could never be undone. "I do not need you to speak for me. She is well."

  She placed her hand gently over his where he gripped the railing. "I'm sure you have plans to return her, but let someone else do it."

  "I do not let others stand in my stead." He relaxed his hand. He knew well how one night could forever alter a life. But every night with Angela seemed to change him. He grinned slightly. "How is your son?"

  Her face blossomed into a smile, the warmth and love reflected in her eyes. "As handsome and kind as his father."

  He thought of Juanita, how frightened she'd been the first time that she'd felt the ripple of movement that was her child. It had scared the hell out of him, too, until he realized what was happening. They were young, struggling to understand what no one had ever explained. He'd been frantic to comfort her, to uncover the answers.

  In desperation, he'd turned to the one person who had nursed their wounds, suggested they leave. Like a thief, he'd sneaked into Christine's room to steal knowledge, only to discover that she, too, was with child. She carried Ramon's child.

  She had been equally as frightened as Juanita but for different reasons. She was older—twenty-one—and not afraid of giving birth, but terrified that her father would take the child from her.

  So she'd told her father that she was going to tend her ailing aunt who lived near Laredo. Then she'd come to stay with them. In the months that followed, while he'd dealt with two weeping, anxious women, they'd begun planning how she would raise this child without her family knowing and how she would honor the man she still loved.

  He had brought his brother's son and Christine's brother's son into the world. He had a responsibility for their future, and thus far, he had to admit he had handled it poorly. If it hadn't been for Angela, he might never have never noticed.

  "I've been thinking," he began.

  "A dangerous occupation for a man."

  His grin broadened. Five years ago, they had all been frightened and weak. Now they were stronger. "It is time we turned our energies elsewhere. You have a son who needs you. I must work to see that the Rodriguez land is reclaimed."

  "How are you going to do that?"

  "I don't know exactly, but Angela will help."

  She arched a brow. "You say her name softly. Don't tell me that the notorious Lee Raven has had his heart stolen."

  "Captured," he told her. "She captivated me from the moment I took her in my arms." He passed the saddlebags over to her. "The money from the last robbery is yours alone. We have done enough good deeds. Take your son someplace where you can be with him always and build a life for him that will honor his father."

  "I wish you'd come see him."

  With regret, Lee shook his head. The child did not need to know his uncle, the outlaw. "It is best if I don't, but I'll send my love." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She hugged him closely as though she feared this meeting would be their last. "Vaya con dios," he rasped, hoping that it wasn't.

  * * *

  "Does it hurt Hector when the babies bite him like that?" Miguel asked.

  Kneeling in the last stall with Miguel and Juanita, Angela waited for Juanita to answer the question.

  "No, little one," Juanita said softly. "It does not hurt Hector. They are not biting. They are suckling."

  "When will Hector leave his babies?"

  "Hector will not leave her babies," Juanita assured him.

  "Why?"

  "Because Hector is their mama."

  "But my mama left me."

  Angela's chest ached with his conclusion. He was fascinated with the cat and she couldn't help but feel that he was more interested in what it must be like to have a mother than in what it was to be a cat. They all assumed he would blithely accept that he had no mother, yet all around him on the ranch he would see female animals with their offspring, watch them caring for their newborns. How could he not help but wonder why his mother had not stayed?

  "Miguel, your mama loved you," Juanita stammered. "Very much."

  "Why did she leave?"

  "It is as we told you. She had to go be an angel."

  "Oh." He paused a heartbeat before asking, "Señorita, is it time for your birthday yet?" as though he'd completely forgotten the previous conversation.

  Smiling warmly, Angela reached out and ruffled his hair. "Not yet."

  He released a big gust of air. "That is the way of it."

  Her heart turned over in her chest at Lee's oft-repeated phrase. She pulled Miguel close and hugged him tightly. "I love you, Miguel."

  "Miguel!" Alejandro called from the entrance to the barn, his voice echoing within the cavernous structure. "It is time for chores."

  He squirmed out of her embrace and ran out of the barn.

  "I have chores as well," Juanita said.

  Angela rested her hand on Juanita's arm, stopping her from rising. "Juanita, I know that I'm new to this family and there is a lot that I don't know, but I do know that you love Miguel."

  "He is the light of my life."

  She swallowed, not certain how to accomplish what she needed. She smiled softly. "Do you remember your mother?"

  "Sí. She was kind. She always hugged us and made us laugh and wiped away our tears."

  "Can you imagine how hard it would be not to have a mother?"

  "That would be a terrible thing."

  "Miguel doesn't have a mother."

  "He has me."

  "But you're his sister."

  "Oh," she said in a tiny voice that reminded Angela very much of Miguel when an answer disappointed him. "It is not the same thing, is it?"

  Tears burned Angela's eyes as she slowly shook her head. "No." She squeezed Juanita's hand. "All little boys need a mother. I know how difficult it is when our world suddenly changes. Until I was twelve, I could see, and then I got very, very sick. When the sickness left, it took my sight with it. I was scared when I couldn't see, but I was also ashamed."

  "You should not have been ashamed, Angela. It was not your fault."

  "No, it wasn't my fault, but I was still embarrassed because I was different, I had changed. I wasn't ready for that change. I didn't
want to be different. But I got tired of lying in bed, so one day I climbed out and stubbed my toe on the leg of a chair. And it hurt. But the next day when I climbed out of bed, I remembered where the chair was."

  "This time you did not stub your toe," Juanita said.

  "That's right. I didn't. I bumped my shin on a little table."

  "Oh, Angela, it must have hurt."

  "It did. But the next day, I didn't stub my toe and I didn't bump my shin."

  Juanita squeezed her hand as though to congratulate her. "That is good."

  "I bruised my knee."

  Juanita gasped. "No."

  "Yes. Every day I was afraid of what I might hurt when I got out of bed. But I still got out of bed because no matter how scary things got, they were never as scary as I thought they would be."

  "You are very brave."

  "I'm not brave. I just got tired of being afraid of the dark." She brushed her fingers across Juanita's brow, combing her hair back from her face. She didn't want to push her too far. Like Lee, she didn't know how to help her without hurting her. "I hope someday you can meet my mother."

  "I do not think she would like me."

  "She would love you just like I do."

  "I do not like to leave this place."

  "A slow journey, a cautious journey, is better than no journey at all."

  * * *

  Sitting on the floor in Lee's room, Angela removed Lee's books from their boxes one by one, lining them up along the wall beneath the window. She wanted to build him a shelf, a permanent place to keep his books, where he could still find them when he was an old man.

  She was beginning to understand why Lee would not break his vow to Juanita. She had wanted to beg Juanita to tell the authorities what had happened, wanted her to tell Miguel that she was his mother. But in many ways, Juanita was a child herself. Afraid of the world. Angela wanted to help her but she didn't know how.

  She closed her eyes. It was an old habit from her days of sight when she'd wished to block out the world to spin her romantic dreams. After so many years of not seeing the world, she still found comfort in the simple gesture.

  She touched her fingers to her chin, trying in her mind to recreate the feel of Lee's chin. His features were so unlike his brothers'. Sharper, more defined. Or perhaps they'd only appeared that way because she'd wanted to know them with an urgency that was almost frightening. Yet sitting here, she realized she'd been distracted by his kisses, enamored of his touch, and she'd failed to gather the details that she required to envision him fully. Was his hair black or brown? And the shade of his eyes … how deeply did the brown run?