That knowledge didn’t make the proximity to her any easier.
Restlessly, he strode to the door and opened it, preparing himself for the blast of air. It came, but the snow was lighter, and he said a rare prayer that tomorrow they might be able to leave. The storm, however, had had several benefits. It had obliterated their trail, and it had given him time to recuperate.
But now he had cabin fever. He didn’t want to think it might be a different kind of fever—for Lori.
They would leave tomorrow. Make for Georgetown, where he would ask the sheriff to hold Lorilee for him until he had time to get Braden back to Texas.
“It’s almost stopped snowing.” Lori’s voice came from behind him. They were the first voluntary words she had spoken to him in three days. Everything else had been short answers to questions or orders.
He turned. “Yes,” he said flatly.
“Does that mean we’ll be leaving?”
He nodded. “In the morning.”
Her gaze went to his shoulder.
“It’ll be all right,” he said.
She averted her eyes. “Can I go out?”
“Five minutes, no longer,” he said. “And don’t go far. I saw cougar tracks this morning.”
She got her coat. He stopped her. “Take my hat. It’s cold out there.”
She gave him a steady stare. “Do you care?”
“I don’t want anything else slowing us down,” he replied.
“Of course,” she said, her lips quivering slightly. “How stupid of me.”
He gave her a partial smile then. His smiles, Lori thought, were attractive, perhaps because of their very rarity. Perhaps because there was that odd self-consciousness about them, as if he were unfamiliar with the smallest pleasantry. “I don’t think I would call you that, Miss Lori,” he drawled.
She wanted to ask him what he would call her, but she also feared asking. Instead she moved on outside, leaving him leaning against the doorjamb.
Lori went to the side of the cabin where Clementine was tethered. She needed to take care of the horse. She didn’t really want to think why. She just needed to do something, to take care of something. Neither the Ranger nor Nick would allow her to do anything, and she felt ready to explode with just that need. To do something, anything. She’d never had Nick’s patience.
She rubbed her face against Clementine’s head, the Ranger’s hat tipping slightly as she did so. It was oversized for her, and it smelled of him. Leather and sweat. She had never thought the combination attractive before now, but it was tantalizing in this cold, lonely wilderness.
Clementine neighed and tossed her head, as if to assure her mistress that one thing, at least, was right But nothing was right and Lori couldn’t see how it ever would be again. She buried her head in the horse’s mane, tempted to leap on Clementine’s back as she had years ago and just gallop away. But she had no weapons, no supplies, and she had already been foolish once. She would do as Nick was doing. Wait for the right time. And then what?
“Thinking about running?”
He was there, leaning against the log wall of the cabin, his dark hair blowing in the wind.
“I wish I could,” she said wistfully, hoping he didn’t see the sheen of mist in her eyes.
He moved closer. She turned away from him, so he wouldn’t see the weakness that was there now. But she had something to say, and she knew she was going to say it.
“When I was twelve,” she began slowly, “I used to shoot apples off my brothers’ heads. It was part of the show, just like the magicians and the Indians. I would shoot apples off Nick’s head, and he would shoot out the flame of a candle I held between my fingers.”
His face was like granite, but she watched a muscle move in his cheek. “You must trust each other a great deal.”
“Yes,” she said simply, although she had never really thought of it that way. She turned and gazed upward at him. “I just want you to know that if I really wanted to kill you, I could have. Easily.”
Something flickered in his eyes, but she didn’t know what it was. He was still too hard to read, too secretive now that she had breached his defenses once. He was determined not to let it happen again. She could feel that determination.
“Then you should have, Miss Lori,” he drawled, but even with the soft spoken words, there was an implacable quality that turned Lori cold. “Because you won’t have another chance.”
“You would really die before letting him go, wouldn’t you?” she asked in a wondering voice.
“It’s my job.”
“It’s more than that. It’s your damned religion,” she said furiously.
He shrugged. “If I don’t bring him in, a bounty hunter will kill him. Is that what you want? He’ll be running the rest of a very short life, and anyone around him will be in danger.”
“It doesn’t have to be you,” she said, hating the tears that were suddenly welling up in her eyes.
“Why not me, Lori?” His voice had suddenly gentled. It was honestly curious. She turned away, but his hand caught hers. “Why not me?”
The command in his voice forced her to look back up at him. His eyes were dark, not blank now, but roiling with some kind of emotion. She didn’t know whether he was baiting her, whether he was angry, or whether he was wanting her as badly now as something deep inside her craved him. His head had lowered slightly, and somehow she had raised herself on her tiptoes. Their mouths were close, too close, much too close.
She heard a noise coming from deep in his throat, a groan of private protest, but he, like her, seemed unable at the moment to heed it A tear trickled down her cheek, freezing there. She barely noticed because heat was building inside her, a kind of volcanic heat that fought desperately for release. And need. Need just as strong as the heat.
And fear. Fear that she would be consumed by the explosion that was building between them. How could desire and hate be such close traveling companions?
But she didn’t hate him. She wanted to. She wanted to as badly as she had wanted anything in her life. But she didn’t She couldn’t She looked at him, at that hard, unyielding face, and she saw something else, a flicker of life trying to emerge.
Then she didn’t think at all, because their lips met and she was lost in a flood of sensations that had no reason. They were like gluttons, soaking up the essence of each other, each driven by a furious desperation that was irresistible even while it should have warned. She felt his mouth drive hard against hers, felt the invasion of his tongue, and she welcomed it, seduced it marveled at how it could awaken so many senses in her. He had been carrying his rifle, and now it fell to the ground, and his arm went around her, his hand burying itself in her hair.
He brought her body closer to his, as close as they could come with two coats between them. She wanted even closer. She wanted his warmth and his strength even while she feared it. She felt herself tremble, one shock wave after another flowing through her, causing her heart to beat faster and harder than it ever had before.
Forbidden fruit It had always appealed to her. It had become legend in the family. Tell Lori she couldn’t have something, and she had to have it Like the time they told her she couldn’t shoot She was too young. She was a girl. And she had charmed the Medicine Show’s sharpshooter to teach her in secret She became so good that Jonathon relented, and she became part of the show. Against Nick’s advice.
Forbidden fruit The one man in the world she couldn’t care about.
Fear squeezed her heart.
Pull away! But she couldn’t She melted instead, melted against that strength that was so potent, so alluring. She knew suddenly she had been waiting all her life for this kind of power, for this feeling of wanting … to merge with another human being. To lose part of herself but to gain part of another. Heat licked around the core of her as he pulled her tighter to him.
All thought disappeared then, swamped in overwhelming sensations. She heard another soft groan and his lips gentled, became exp
loratory, inviting, wheedling as if he too were trying to find his way in this unknown thicket of tangled emotions. Anger was at the edge of them, but the core was pure, raw desire.
“Goddamn you.” Lori heard the voice. Her brother’s voice. And then felt the impact as Nick threw himself at the Ranger. She went down as well as the two men, and she twisted to avoid their bodies as they went rolling over the snow.
In stunned silence she watched them. Nick was hampered by the handcuffs and leg irons, but assisted by anger. The Ranger was hampered by his wound and surprise. But even then she knew Nick had no chance, not with the irons. He’d balled up his fists and now struck a strong blow against the Ranger’s face, but the Ranger had been able to duck the next one, his good right hand grabbing the chain between the wrists and jerking them cruelly, throwing Nick off balance.
Nick managed to pull away, rolling a few feet and then lifting his legs together and kicking them into the Ranger’s stomach. Lori heard a grunt, and then Nick sprawled his body over the Ranger’s, his hands trying to get behind the Ranger’s head as the lawman twisted to avoid the maneuver. His own fists went up, pummeling the side of Nick’s head.
The Ranger’s leg caught Nick and he twisted, rolling them both over until Nick was now under him, and one knee pinned the chain of the handcuffs while his good hand slammed into Nick’s chin.
Lori moved, reaching for the rifle the Ranger had dropped, and rested it in her arms. “Get off him,” she ordered, her voice loud in the white, frozen world.
The Ranger stilled, but his body and hands still held Nick down. “Are you going to shoot me again, Lori?” His voice was rough, the words coming in pants as he struggled for breath. His body was heaving with exertion.
The words were like rifle pellets shot through her body, tearing through her heart and other vital places. “If I have to,” she whispered.
“Your kisses are deadly, Miss Lori,” he said dryly.
Nick had been still until that moment. Now he tried to buck the Ranger off him, but his captor merely shifted his weight, brutally twisting the chain of the handcuffs until Nick stilled again.
“I said let him go,” Lori said, her voice stronger.
“I don’t think I will, Lori,” the Ranger said, his voice purposely drawing out her name with a kind of intimacy designed to infuriate. She heard the menace in it, and an anger he was barely restraining. They were edging every word.
Lori felt her hands shake. He was testing her. But he was wrong. She would shoot.
“Go ahead, Lori,” the Ranger invited. “Of course you might hit Braden here. Unless you’re as good as you say you are.” He was mocking her now, daring her. Her finger closed around the trigger, but she couldn’t force herself to pull it Not at this moment. She held on to it.
“Can’t use it when I’m this close, Lori?” the Ranger said. “It’s easier from ambush, isn’t it? When you can’t really see a face?” She knew he was pushing her, wanting to know whether she would really fire or not.
And then she knew. She knew, damn him. Holy Mary and Joseph, but she knew. She lifted the barrel and aimed into the woods and fired. It clicked. The chamber was empty. He’d emptied the shells.
“Put it down,” the Ranger said.
But it was her turn to taunt now. “You still don’t know, do you, Ranger?” she asked. “You don’t know whether I would have fired or not? That was the whole purpose of this game, wasn’t it?”
He glared back. Desire still burned in his eyes, but so did blue-hot anger. “No,” he said. “I’m not quite that smart I didn’t anticipate …” He stopped, then continued in a more controlled voice. “I emptied the rifle the first night in the cabin. It seemed wise under the circumstances.”
Lori knew a fury she’d never felt before. It was mixed up with all those other incomprehensible feelings. How could she have ever felt anything for a man who would almost beg her to shoot, knowing that the gun was empty?
“You’re detestable.”
“You didn’t think so moments ago.”
“I just wanted the rifle,” she lied.
He slowly lifted himself from Nick, taking the several steps toward Lori and forcing the rifle from her. He then watched as Nick rose slowly and painfully to his feet His wrists were red with blood from where the iron bracelets had dug into the flesh during the fight.
“Take care of him,” he told Lori wearily.
Nick turned toward him. “Isn’t one Braden enough on this trip, Davis? Do you have to destroy both of us?”
Morgan Davis didn’t answer.
“Stay away from my sister,” Braden said, his teeth clenched, his hands balled in tight fists.
“I think she can take care of herself, Braden,” the Ranger said, and Lori wondered whether she really heard a note of defeat in his voice.
And as the ache inside her returned, as her heart reacted to the wistful tone of his voice, she knew he was wrong. She couldn’t take care of herself at all when she was around him.
CHAPTER TEN
They left the cabin the next morning.
Morgan’s face was swollen, his left eye black, but Nick looked even worse. Morgan received no satisfaction from that fact. Braden had been chained; Morgan had not. He liked a fair fight, and theirs had not been a fair fight, even with Morgan’s wound.
And damn, but he hungered for a chance to expel the explosive frustration he felt Just plain fists. A no-holds-barred match between him and Nick Braden.
But it wasn’t Braden who made him feel like a stumbling fool. Christ, how could he have been so reckless? There had been something about Lori’s upturned face, the shimmering desire that flickered there. And he had been helpless to do anything but move closer to her.
Helpless, hell! Just damned weak. He’d never been weak before. He would not make excuses now, would not blame her. She had been just as helpless as he against that flash fire of desire—he could see that in her eyes as well.
Still, she hadn’t been above trying to take advantage of it He just didn’t know whether she would have pulled that trigger if she hadn’t realized the rifle wasn’t loaded. He would probably never know now.
And the sizzle between them, that damnable attraction that was always present, had never been so evident as it had when they had found their way back to the cabin. The meal of bacon and beans had been entirely in silence, and there was no playing of a harmonica as Braden nursed his torn wrists. The silence was as deadly as Morgan had ever endured, and he had welcomed the first light of dawn after a restless night.
Now the sun sparkled on the snow. Snow was melting from the remaining golden leaves of the aspen, and drops of water sparkled like diamonds from them. It was a day of glory in the mountains, the kind Morgan had never experienced before, and ordinarily he would have quietly absorbed the beauty of it, allowed himself the rare luxury of contentment.
But instead, it only served to deepen the suffocating feeling of loneliness. He was standing alone against the world, doing what he had to do because it was right—because he had been doing it all his life, upholding the law.
It was right, dammit He tried to dismiss the doubts that were beginning to nag at him. Doubts that were like pinpricks to his conscience, doubts that hadn’t allowed him to rest last night, and which continued throughout the day.
Doubts he’d never had before.
Nicholas Braden wasn’t his normal prisoner. Loyalty and selflessness were not usually qualities Morgan found in his prey. Yet Braden had flung himself on Morgan yesterday, knowing he couldn’t possibly best him wearing irons. He’d not done it to escape, but because of his sister. Morgan had never before seen such affection between brother and sister, and he just couldn’t liken Braden’s actions to a man who would shoot an unarmed boy. Nor did he believe Lori could have such loyalty to a man who would murder in cold blood.
Of course, he had been fooled before. And it had cost him dearly.
He looked back. Nick Braden was again handcuffed to his saddle. Lori rode h
er own horse, but he had tied her hands with the last remnants of the shirt he’d been wearing when she’d shot him. It wouldn’t bite into the skin as rope would, and he knew she was more comfortable in her own saddle than riding behind Braden. Both of their backs were straight, their bodies betraying a pride and defiance that continued to haunt him.
Beth Andrews knelt at the year-old grave, her head bowed before the simple wood cross. “I tried, Joshua. I tried to hang on to your land … but I can’t. Not any longer.” She buried her head in her hands, letting the tears flow free for the first time since Joshua had died of blood poisoning.
A careless moment with the ax. A rare, careless moment, a deep cut he had not taken seriously. “It’s nothing, sweetheart,” he had said. “Nothing for you to worry about” He’d never wanted to worry her, had always treated her like a princess, since the day he’d first come into her father’s store in Independence. He’d been a big man, and her small stature seemed to frighten him. If so, it was the only thing that had ever frightened him.
He had also been the kindest man she’d ever met, his large size belying a heart that opened to everyone. Unlike so many westerners, he had no prejudice against the Indians, and when they’d settled in a Colorado valley, he had immediately befriended the Utes who grazed their horses here. And they had been left in peace as Joshua carved out a farm, growing wheat, vegetables, and breeding livestock, crossbreeding mustangs with the stallion that had been his pride and joy.
He’d taken such pleasure in the farm, rising before daylight and grinning as he watched the sunrise. “God has already given me paradise,” he used to say. “You and our daughter and this land.”
She’d always felt so safe with him, from the first moment he’d shyly taken his hat from his head and so hesitantly asked her to take dinner with him. He’d been so unlike others who’d tried to court her: the smooth-talking drummers or the rough cowboys. For him she’d tried to cling to the land. For him and for their Maggie.
But she didn’t have his strength. She didn’t have the strength to plow the often rock-hard ground, nor control the stallion enough to breed it to the mountain mares, nor the skill to break the mustangs that Joshua had rounded up. The fences were in disrepair. There wasn’t enough firewood for winter. She didn’t have money for a hired man, not enough to compete with the promise of silver and gold in these mountains. The few drifters that passed through seemed more interested in her person than the few coins she could offer, and she’d chased several off with a rifle.
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