by Linda Warren
This had to be one of the worst days of Egan’s life.
* * *
RACHEL WOKE UP to aches and pains, yet felt oddly relaxed. She turned her head and found Egan staring at her with those beautiful eyes. A masculine, woodsy scent reached her and her stomach curled into a pleasant knot. With his hat still on his head, he gave ruggedly handsome a new meaning. The lines of his face were pronounced, his growth of beard arousing, his nose straight and his mouth a sexy slash, begging to be touched and experienced. She licked her lips, wanting that pleasure.
“You’re awake,” he said.
“Yeah,” she murmured.
He already had his arm out of the duster and now sat up. She felt a bereavement she couldn’t explain. She wondered what he would say if she invited him to touch her, to hold her, to... What was wrong with her? Her mind was straying into dangerous territory. She wasn’t that type of woman. But looking at Egan Rebel, she wanted to be.
With one swift movement, he was on his feet. She, on the other hand, was a little slower. Dawn was breaking over the valley below and she stood for a moment to gaze at the beauty of God’s creation. It was as if God had kissed the night into submission and now the sun could show its glory. It did, in beautiful rays of yellow, a breathtaking scene. She wished she had a canvas to paint it, but she would keep it in her memory for later. Just as she would the man standing beside her.
“I’m going to get some water,” he said.
She reached for her purse and pulled out a small sketch pad she kept.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to sketch this scene so I can paint it later.”
Egan shook his head and disappeared into the woods.
Rachel sat cross-legged with the sketch pad on her lap. She drew broad strokes. The scene before her faded and Egan’s face appeared. The strong lines, longish hair, hat, the shape of his eyes and that steadfast, masculine demeanor. It was all there with each stroke. She stared at it for a moment and then tucked the pad back into her purse. No matter what happened, she would have a memory of this unforgettable man.
Seeing her hairbrush in the purse, she pulled it out and attempted to work the tangles from her hair. A sound caught her attention and she turned her head. She froze. Fear leaped into her throat. Wild-looking dogs stood near the edge of the woods, baring their teeth and growling. A bearded man stood behind them with a rifle.
Rachel tried to get to her feet, but her shaky legs wouldn’t comply. Before she could process the situation, the man said something to the dogs and they charged toward her.
Oh my God!
She scrambled to her feet, trying to run, but the dogs were upon her. “Egan! Egan!” she screamed.
* * *
EGAN DROPPED THE CANTEEN and ran, the rifle in his hand. The scene before him chilled his blood. A dog was on Rachel, ferociously trying to reach her throat. She beat at it with a hairbrush, foiling its attempts. Two more dogs tore at her clothes. Another joined the attack. Rachel kicked and screamed, the sound disrupting the peace and quiet with spine-tingling terror.
He raised his rifle and fired. One dog went down. He fired again and another rolled to the side. A dog leaped up at the sound and Egan fired once more. The animal fell backward and rolled down the hill.
The dog on Rachel wouldn’t let go of its prey, and was too close to her for Egan to shoot without a guarantee he wouldn’t hit her. Running forward, he pulled the knife from the scabbard on his waist, then stabbed until the dog released her and lay motionless.
Rachel cowered there, covered in blood, the hairbrush clutched in her bloody hand. “It’s okay,” Egan told her. “I’m here.”
“There’s...more,” she gasped.
He raised his head and saw Izzy McCray and two more dogs about twenty yards away. Egan’s gun lay on the grass and he immediately reached for it.
“You killed my dogs, you bastard!” Izzy screamed.
“You’re next!” Egan shouted back. He fired over Izzy’s head and he and the dogs retreated into the woods.
Rachel shook from head to toe and her teeth were chattering. Egan pried the brush from her hand and threw it on the ground. Seeing the green sweater, he reached for it. With a sleeve, he wiped blood from her face and her throat. “Calm down,” he cooed, as if to a child. “I’m not going to let anything else happen to you. Take a deep breath. Take another.”
“E-gan,” she cried, and tears rolled from her eyes.
He dabbed blood from the scratches on her face and neck. Luckily, they didn’t look deep. “Come on, we have to get out of here. That crazy fool might be waiting in the woods.”
Rachel shook violently. Egan grabbed the duster and wrapped it around her. Then he looped her purse over his shoulder and lifted her into his arms. The rifle lay on the ground and he bent for it. Walking into the woods to where he’d dropped the canteen, he squatted and reached for it, while resting the rifle against his leg. He screwed off the top with his thumb and forefinger and put the canteen to her lips.
“Drink.”
She raised her hands and he saw how bloody and scratched they were. His gut tightened at what had been done to her. He should never have left her. Damn!
After she finished, he screwed the top back on and let the canteen rest on her chest. Holding her close, he got to his feet with the rifle in hand and then took off into the woods, trying to walk as fast as he could.
“Where are we going?” She laid her head against him, her blond hair matted with blood.
“My great-great-great-grandparents settled on Yaupon Creek and their cabin is still there. I try to keep it up. It has a bed and the bare necessities, but you can rest and I can clean your wounds. The only problem is it’s taking us farther from the ranch, but I think you need medical attention more right now.”
“Do you think he’s following us?”
Egan wanted to tell her no, but he wasn’t sure about crazy Izzy, and he wanted to be honest with her. On the other hand, he didn’t want to scare her to death. She’d been through enough for one day.
“Don’t worry. I have my rifle and we’ll be at the cabin in no time.”
Egan thought he was in good shape, but by the time he saw the one-room log cabin nestled on the bank of the creek his muscles were tight and aching. Tall oaks and scrappy yaupons surrounded the place. The view from the front porch was the same as it had been over a hundred years ago. The lazy creek flowed like a pale ribbon and was inhabited by fish, frogs, snakes and turtles. Animals came to drink at different times of the day. Enormous live oaks and cedars shaded it. The yaupons had been cut back for a better view of the valley below.
The steps creaked as he put his weight on them. He needed to fix that, but never seemed to find the time. Juggling Rachel and the rifle, he managed to open the door and carry her inside. “Doin’ What She Likes” by Blake Shelton blared loudly.
He laid her on the mattress of a single bed in a corner across from a stone fireplace.
“Where’s that music coming from?” She curled up on an old patchwork quilt of his grandmother’s.
“A transistor radio I keep on to discourage little critters from coming in. It works pretty good. If they hear a human voice, they go elsewhere.”
“How clever.”
“Yeah.” He turned off the radio. “Rest,” he told her. “I’m going outside to get more water.”
She sat up, her eyes wild. “Egan...”
“It’s okay. I’ll be right outside. The only way in is through this front door and I’ll have my eye on it. Just try to relax.”
It didn’t take him long to get the old pump working at the well. It had been repaired so many times, but still provided water. He filled the bucket and carried it inside, keeping his rifle in hand and a close eye on the surrounding woods as he did so. An armadillo rooted about and birds chirped. Other than that, it was just a normal day in the woods.
But it was anything but normal.
Chapter Three
Rachel’s sk
in burned and she wanted to scream. But she feared if she started, she would never be able to stop. She kept her eyes open, because if she closed them, she could feel the dogs on her—their smelly breath, coarse fur and claws so sharp they’d ripped through her skin.
A scream clogged her throat and she pulled the duster closer around her. The woodsy, masculine, sweaty scent enveloped her, but it wasn’t abrasive. It was soothing because it reminded her of Egan.
She kept her eyes on the door and soon he walked in with a bucket of water, which he set on the floor. Blood covered his shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice it.
“I have to clean those wounds and see how bad they are.”
She pushed herself to a sitting position and brushed her fingers through her blood-caked, tangled hair. Egan’s hand touched her face and neck and she stilled. No one had ever touched her that way—gentle, caring and respectful.
“The skin is broken in several places and your neck has two punctures, but they don’t look deep. I’ll clean them with the water and then I can see better.” He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and dipped it in the bucket. Looking at her, he added, “It might be best if you remove your blouse. Some of the scratches on your neck go down.”
Without a second thought, she lifted the blouse over her head and exposed her breasts in a lacy pink bra. He seemed completely unmoved by the sight. Gently, he wiped and squeezed water over each scratch and wound until the liquid in the bucket was bloody. The cloth was cool on her skin, but an inner fire was building in her. With each stroke, she wanted to catch his hand and hold it to her breasts, to feel his touch in a more personal way. It probably was due to the trauma she’d been through, because she’d never reacted this way to any man before.
“I’m going to push on the neck bites to get them to bleed so it will cleanse the wounds of saliva and bacteria.”
“Okay.” She winced as his fingers pressed into her skin.
“I’m worried about rabies, even though Izzy takes very good care of those dogs. Still, they’re in the woods all the time and a few skunks have tested positive for rabies. There’s whiskey in the cabinet. Do you think you could stand it if I pour it over the scratches and bites? It’ll kill whatever bacteria is there and it’s all that I have available here. It’ll sting, but...”
Rachel reached out and removed Egan’s hat. He drew back slightly, which was his only reaction. “I can’t see your eyes with your hat on,” she said.
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Is it necessary to see my eyes?”
“Most definitely.”
He went to a small cabinet and came back with a bottle of whiskey. Handing it to her, he said, “You might want to drink some first.”
“Straight?”
“It’ll numb your senses.”
“All righty.”
She lifted the bottle and took a swig, swallowed and coughed as it burned her throat. Her eyes watered, but she took another drink.
“I have to get more water and rinse out the handkerchief. Sip it slowly or your eyes are going to bulge out. Evidently, you’re not used to hard liquor.”
“A margarita or a glass of merlot is more my style.”
“I could’ve guessed.”
She made a face and took another swig, coughing until she thought it was going to come up again. Lying back, she watched glittery rainbows float across the old wood beams of the ceiling. A numbness invaded her mind. She reached out for Egan’s hand. His strong fingers closed around hers and she knew everything was going to be okay. Egan would take care of her. That seemed odd, since she’d been fighting for years for her independence. But with Egan it was different.
“I like you, Egan Rebel.”
“Ma’am...”
A bubble of laughter erupted from her throat, and she thought if she could hear him say that word in that tone for the rest of her life, she would be in heaven.
* * *
EGAN WENT OUTSIDE for more water and rinsed the handkerchief until it was as clean as it was going to get. Back in the cabin Rachel was falling in and out of consciousness. He placed his hand on her forehead to see if she had a fever, but her skin was cool. She was just getting drunk and he had a feeling she didn’t do that often. If ever.
“Ready?” he asked, squatting by the bed.
She drew a deep breath. “Yes.”
He took the bottle from her and soaked the handkerchief. He started with the scratches on her hands and arms, where she’d fought the dogs. The moment the whiskey touched the open wounds she bit down on her lip to keep from screaming. He admired that. She had guts.
Quickly, he continued, making sure each scratch was covered with alcohol. She flinched when he did the ones on her face.
“Is it bad?”
“It’ll heal in no time and you’ll still be beautiful.”
“Ah, you think I’m beautiful?”
He soaked the bites on her neck and she bit her lip again, preventing her from talking, which he thought was good. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. God had heaven in mind when he’d created her. Natural blond hair, blue eyes and model-like features. Everything about her was perfection, including her curved, feminine body. Touching her skin was an exercise in restraint. Egan had never felt anything so soft, supple and tempting. One scratch arrowed down to a breast and his hand slowed as he reached its fullness. He wanted to cup it, to feel its weight in his palm. With superhuman strength, he pulled away and screwed the top on the bottle of whiskey.
Standing, he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. Then he whipped his T-shirt over his head and handed it to her. “Your blouse is ruined, but you can wear this.” He wanted to cover up those breasts any way he could.
She tugged it over her head and pull the duster around her. “I’m so sleepy.”
“It’s the whiskey.”
Her eyelashes were light brown and lay softly against her skin as a liquor-induced sleep claimed her. He touched her forehead one more time to make sure she didn’t have a fever. Once he was sure of that, he walked outside to the long porch on the front of the cabin.
He sat on the stoop and stared at the creek and the valley below. If she had a fever, they’d have to leave quickly to get her medical attention. They could probably reach the ranch by noon if they walked at a steady pace. He’d let her sleep for a bit and then they’d start out.
Egan’s emotions were all over the place and he couldn’t think straight when he was around her. He’d never had this problem before. She was making him forget that he’d ever known Judge Hollister. But the memory always returned. Egan would never be able to forgive the man for what he’d done, and that meant he couldn’t have any kind of relationship with his daughter.
Relationship?
Where did that come from? He wasn’t planning a relationship with Rachel Hollister. He just wanted to get her back to wherever she belonged. And that wasn’t with him.
He ran his hands up his face and took a deep breath. It would be a long time before the memory of those dogs clawing at her would fade. He’d been so afraid they would kill her. And that was unacceptable and terrifying. He was glad he’d gotten there when he had. Izzy was going to pay for this one way or another. Egan would call the sheriff just as soon as they made it back to the ranch. Izzy had trained those dogs to kill, and that wasn’t safe for anyone.
Glancing down, Egan saw that his knife was in its sheath. He didn’t even remember putting it there. The handle was covered with blood. He pulled it out and saw that the blade was, too. He got up and made his way to the well. There wasn’t anything to clean it with but water. He scrubbed the dried blood with leaves and that did the trick. Slipping it back into its sheath, he knew he might have to use it again.
“Egan!”
His name echoed through the valley with mind-splitting terror. He ran back to the cabin and Rachel flew into his arms.
“Egan.” She threw herself against him and held on, her body trembling. “I...thought...you’d left me here.”
<
br /> He stroked her back. “You know I wouldn’t do that. Calm down. You just had a bad dream.”
“Every time I close my eyes...”
“Shh.” He led her to the bed. “How do you feel?”
She drew in a deep breath. “Better now that you’re here.”
“We need to start walking soon.” He checked the scratches and bites on her neck. “Everything looks good.” Touching her forehead, he added, “And you don’t have a fever.”
“Can we stay here a little while longer? I don’t want to go back out there just yet.”
“The sooner we leave, the faster we’ll make it to the ranch.”
She looked down at the scrapes on her hands. “I can’t go home like this.”
“Rachel, you’ve been through something horrific and you need your family.”
She raised her eyes to his and they filled with tears. At the sight, his resolve weakened.
“I need you. I know that sounds crazy, but—” she shook her head “—it’s the way I feel. Please, let’s stay here just a little while longer and then I can face my family.”
The pain in her voice got to him, but he had to be honest. “Rachel, you hardly know me. You’re clinging to me because you’re afraid.”
“I know,” she said in a dejected voice. She got up and walked to the doorway. “Oh, look at that view. I can understand why your ancestors chose this spot.” She walked out onto the porch and he followed. Six deer were at the creek, drinking. Quietly, she eased onto the stoop as if mesmerized by the sight.
“I’d love to paint that,” she whispered.
He sat beside her. “Obviously, you’re an artist, because you seem to want to paint everything.”
“Yes. I teach art in a private girls’ school in New York.”
At that moment, he realized Rachel was way, way out of his league. Yet it was hard to explain the feelings that had ignited between them. They had nothing in common and she was... He didn’t even want to think the words, so he stared off to the creek below.