by Heidi Betts
With a hint of rose tinting her cheeks, she raised a soft palm to caress his jaw and whispered the two most wonderful words he'd ever heard: “I'm sure."
He groaned, a strangled, almost desperate sound, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Squeezing her, hugging her, lifting her off her feet and kissing her until the world around them disappeared.
He'd had some nice moments in his life. Being adopted and taken home by the Walkers. Finding out he was going to be a big brother when Clay and Regan had their first child. Returning to his mother's village and learning he had a half sister and a young nephew.
But nothing topped this. Not a single thing before or in the future could surpass the warm, ecstatic feeling swirling in the pit of his stomach and spreading out to his limbs at the knowledge that Hannah Blake wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Still holding her a few inches off the ground, he half-walked, half-staggered toward the back of the row of cabins, away from the street. It was darker there and they'd be less likely to be seen.
Part of him hated this. Hated that he was about to make love to her outside, in the shadows behind a rickety old shack in an outlaw town like Hell. He wasn't going to let her go or try to change her mind—he wasn't crazy, after all—but he still wished they could be inside a fancy house or hotel, on a clean, comfortable bed.
Another part of him was just . . . damn grateful.
There was nowhere to go, nothing to do except prop her gently against the back wall of the cabin as he kissed her, tasted her skin, reveled in the soft, satiny feel of her womanly form.
While he used his teeth to nibble at her mouth, her ear, the line of her throat, his fingers deftly undid the row of buttons at the front of her shirt. She wore a lacy white camisole beneath.
Hannah was a petite woman, petite all over, including the small, round globes of her breasts. Walker had always gravitated toward more buxom women, though he'd never been quite sure why. Now, he wondered how he ever could have found those full, top-heavy figures attractive when Hannah's tiny stature suited him so much better.
His hand slipped inside the folds of her shirt and gently cupped one of the spheres, no bigger than an overturned teacup. It filled his palm just right.
Keeping one hand locked on her hip, he trailed a line of kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck, smiling to himself when she let her head fall back and moaned in pleasure as the heat of his mouth neared the shallow dip of her cleavage.
"Ara?! Hannah! Ara?!"
It took a minute for the loud cries to cut through the haze of desire that surrounded Walker. When they did, his head jerked up, his hand slipped out from beneath Hannah's shirt, and he took an abrupt step backward.
Hannah, looking equally dazed by the sudden interruption, ran a hand through her tousled hair and quickly began to straighten her disheveled shirt.
With a mild curse, Walker returned to her side and helped her get the small buttons through the correct holes. He retreated again just as Little Bear rounded the corner at a full run.
Sliding to a halt, chest heaving, he looked from one adult to the other. “Pia, she is awake. Ara?, come. Hannah, eome, come.” He waved for them to follow and raced back to the cabin.
Walker blew out a breath. Though he couldn't deny his happiness at hearing that his sister had regained consciousness, he also suffered more than a little disappointment that his time with Hannah had been cut short.
He held out a hand to her and wrapped it around her elbow when she moved within arm's reach.
"Are you all right?” he asked softly, just above her right ear.
She nodded. Halfway around the cabin, she cocked her head to the side and looked up at him, and Walker suffered a sudden dizziness that caught him by surprise.
It was her eyes. Those ravishing blue eyes. Even in the dark, when he couldn't see their exact color, they shone up at him and drew him into their molten depths like a siren's song.
At the corner of the building, he stopped, pulling her to a halt beside him.
"What?” he asked. He had to know what that look meant.
She smiled gently and curled her fingers into his forearm, nails digging in a fraction. “I was just thinking about what a superb kisser you are. And how much I enjoy the touch of your hands on my body."
Rising up on tiptoe, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and the devil in her eyes sparkled even more. “And how I can't wait until we get the opportunity to finish what we started."
With that, she let go of his arm and continued into the cabin to check on his sister.
Walker stood outside, in the moonlit night, for a short while longer. Trying to absorb the meaning of Hannah's words. Trying to calm the raging of his blood and brain and breeches. Trying to figure out just when he'd fallen so madly, tragically, head over heels in love with her.
Chapter Eleven
Hannah was surprised when David didn't enter the cabin directly behind her. Or even in front of her, as concerned as she knew he was for his sister.
Of course, she had flustered him with that remark about being eager for their next opportunity to make love.
But she couldn't help it; he was so fun to tease, so easy to knock off his guard.
Not that she was joking about wanting him that way. She did. She had for a very long time, regardless of the fact that they weren't married or the threat such an action could pose to her schoolmarm position.
And that, she decided, was something she'd have to deal with when the time came. It was too much to contemplate all at once.
She'd already missed a good week of school and was sure the townspeople were wondering where she'd run off to. But she would cross that bridge when she came to it, give them some excuse for her absence that hopefully would not get her fired. What she wouldn't do was tell them anything about being alone with David or kissing him behind a run-down old shack in Hell. The Purgatory school board might pay her and put a roof over her head, but they didn't deserve to know everything about her private life.
Shaking herself out of her woolgathering, she held a cup of cool, fresh water to Bright Eyes's mouth, helping the frail woman to sit up a bit and drink her fill. Little Bear stood at her side, nervously hovering over his now conscious mother.
The door opened and David walked in just as Hannah was propping a pillow behind his sister's head. He looked strong and handsome, even in the dim lamplight filling the small cabin. Only his fingers worrying the brim of Hannah's forgotten felt hat betrayed his nervousness.
Glancing briefly in her direction, he moved to his sister's side and crouched beside the bed. “Nami?, it's good to see you awake. You look better."
Bright Eyes smiled faintly and reached out a hand to grip David's arm. Then her gaze flashed questioningly toward Hannah.
"This is Hannah Blake,” he explained. “Hannah, this is my half sister, Bright Eyes."
"Hello, Bright Eyes,” Hannah greeted her with a kind and what she hoped was a reassuring expression.
"Hannah is an old friend from when I lived at the orphanage in Purgatory. She's been nursing you and watching after Little Bear."
Bright Eyes turned her head on the pillow to look up at Hannah. And then her hand, almost skin and bones, reached out to squeeze her arm the same as she'd done with David. “Ura. Thank you,” she said softly.
Giving the woman a reassuring nod, Hannah asked, “How are you feeling? Is there anything I can get for you?"
"No. Thank you, I am fine."
Her English was slow and a little stilted but clearly understandable. Hannah knew now how Little Bear had learned the language so well, and Bright Eyes had likely come by her knowledge either from that Lynch fellow or her brother, David.
"Little Bear.” Pushing to his feet, David addressed his nephew. “Stay with your mother while Hannah and I talk. Let us know if she needs anything."
Little Bear's black hair bounced as he nodded. From the look on the child's face, Hannah doubted a team of horses could drag him away fr
om his mother's side.
David rounded the end of the cot and dropped Hannah's hat on the lopsided tabletop. Catching her elbow, he led her to the opposite side of the room.
"Is she really all right?” he asked, bending close to whisper in her ear.
"I don't know. I told you, I'm not sure of what I'm doing; I'm just . . . trying the best I can."
"And I appreciate it,” he rushed to assure her. “I don't know what I'd have done if you weren't here."
His thumb came up to caress the soft swell of her lower lip, and she took a moment to savor the sensation before casting a glance over his shoulder to the woman laying still and battered on the lumpy tick mattress.
"I think she'll be fine. It will take some time to build up her strength, but her eyes are bright and she seems determined to survive. She also has a young child to care for and a baby on the way. I think that's enough to make any mother fight to recover."
"Ura, Ta?ahpu."
"What does that mean?” she asked, returning her gaze to David's.
"Thank you, Great Spirit."
"Yes. I couldn't agree more.” There was an intensity in his dark brown eyes, something mesmerizing, begging her not to look away. And like trying to pry Little Bear from his mother's side, she didn't think a herd of wild mustangs could tear her attention off David at that moment.
His thumb fell away from her mouth, but his hand remained at her cheek, curving beneath her jaw. “We've got to do something about this, Hannah,” he grated.
A vise seemed to clamp about her chest and the air left her lungs in a soundless whoosh. “About what?"
"This.” He waved his free hand between their two bodies in a futile, wordless gesture.
"I told you what I wanted to do about it,” she said with more courage than she felt.
A wicked, glittering light came into his eyes, and it had nothing to do with the fire burning in the chiminea behind them. “You've grown up, Hannah. And I think it's safe to say you've become a little bit dangerous."
She tipped her chin and shot him what she hoped was a saucy grin. “Just a little bit?"
His low chuckle ran like molasses down her spine.
"Make that very dangerous.” He dropped his hands and took a step back from her. “I'd better watch myself or you might lure me into your evil web."
Oh, she wanted him in her web, all right. Even if that made her the spider and him the fly. But she merely shrugged a shoulder in nonchalance before moving toward the fire to fill a bowl of broth for his sister.
"You know where to find me if you change your mind,” she told him softly. And then, turning to fix him with one last, challenging glare, she added, “If you're brave enough to risk getting caught."
The next several days passed uneventfully. Bright Eyes regained some of her strength and started to get the color back in her face, thanks to the excellent care Hannah and Little Bear provided, barely leaving her side for five minutes. The mottled purples and yellows of her bruises were fading, and she was filling out again with the return of her appetite.
Much to Hannah's disappointment, however, she and David found very little time to be alone together. And she suspected David planned it that way, making a point of being outside when she was in, or across the room from wherever she stood.
But she didn't let his behavior discourage her. As hard as he might try, he couldn't hide the spark of attraction that sizzled to life in his eyes every time he looked at her. It made her feel special and set off a series of tiny heat explosions in her belly and lower extremities. She was practically humming with the expectation of what was to come.
And it was coming. She could feel it in her bones.
Just as she was helping Bright Eyes back into bed after a short walk to relieve herself in the corner chamber pot, the door burst open, startling a small gasp out of both women. David loomed in the opening, his chest heaving as early evening sunlight poured in behind him, casting a long shadow across the earthen floor in front of his tall frame.
"We've got to get out of here,” he blurted without preamble.
"What's wrong?"
"I just spotted Lynch and some of his men at the far end of town,” he told them as he stepped forward and started gathering their things—any sign that they'd ever occupied the dingy cabin.
Ignoring his sister's gasp and Little Bear's sudden stiff, protective stance, David went on. “They'll no doubt search each and every cabin in Hell, so we have to get out of here. Grab it all; I don't want anything left behind."
With Bright Eyes perched on the edge of the bed, Hannah moved to help him collect their things. Throwing dirt and ashes over the low-burning fire to extinguish the flames, rolling up blankets, tossing every bit of food in sight into an empty burlap bag.
"Where are we going? Your sister shouldn't be riding yet, or traveling a great distance."
"We aren't going far,” he answered curtly. “I've got a place set up for us to hide. If we play our cards right, he won't find us even if he searches there."
Hannah wanted to ask more, wanted to know more. But David was distracted—for good reason—and she figured she'd learn about their destination soon enough.
He shoved the burgeoning sacks and piles of bedclothes into her and Little Bear's arms. “You two take these. I'll carry Bright Eyes."
Hurrying to the bed, he swooped his sister into his arms and started out the door. Hannah and Little Bear followed obediently.
Hannah had no idea what Ambrose Lynch looked like, but she found herself scanning the street and sidewalk for him all the same, just as David's gaze darted cautiously from side to side. He led them across the dusty street and down a narrow, darkened alley that bordered the main entrance of the Devil's Den. Rounding the corner, they found a woman holding open a back entrance to the saloon, and David quickly slipped inside.
The woman took a second to look them over, then gave them a quick flick of her fingers. “Come on, sugars. I'll show you upstairs."
Making sure Little Bear was keeping up, Hannah managed to sidle close to David. Bright Eyes had her arms linked about his neck and he was carrying her as carefully as he might a newborn babe.
"Who is this woman?” she whispered harshly.
"Her name is Cora,” he answered, not bothering to lower his voice. “Cora, this is Hannah,” he said by way of introduction.
Cora, dressed in a skin-tight gown an ungodly shade of red, turned her head slightly and gave Hannah a nod. “Charmed."
"Are you sure we can trust her?"
Even though Hannah hissed the words as softly as she could, Cora still overheard and answered the question herself. “Your man is paying me plenty not to tell anyone where you are. It'll be your job to keep from being found once you're in the room, though. I can't keep whoever it is you're avoiding from searching this place."
They had traversed an unlit rear stairwell and a long, carpeted hallway with a mahogany balcony that overlooked the main room of the saloon. The walls bore faded satin brocade and gold, glass-covered sconces every few feet to light the way. Cora led them around a corner and threw open the door to one of the four rooms located in this particular wing.
David wasted no time stepping inside and setting Bright Eyes gently on the wide feather mattress. The covers were turned back and the sheets were gleaming white—a far sight better than what she'd been sleeping on at the cabin.
Still standing in the doorway, Cora said, “If you need anything, darlin', you just let me know. It will cost you, of course. . .. “She flashed David a beaming, suggestive grin. “But maybe you'll think it's worth the price."
With that, she left the room, closing the door behind her, and Hannah turned to face David.
"What are we doing here?” she demanded. Her hands seemed to go automatically to her hips, her feminine sensibilities riled by having to set so much as one foot inside a house of ill repute.
David now stood beside Little Bear, digging through the multitude of items they'd brought with them. Shooti
ng her a sidelong glance, he said, “Don't look so scandalized, notsa?ka?. This whorehouse may just save our lives."
She ignored his use of the detestable w word and cocked her head questioningly. “ May save our lives?"
He inclined his head in a single, affirmative motion. “You're the only one who can really keep Lynch from finding us."
"And how's that?"
"You won't like it."
"Undoubtedly.” Her arms had moved up from her hips to cross beneath her breasts as she awaited his response.
"I need your help, Hannah.” He glanced pointedly at first Little Bear, then Bright Eyes, his expression conveying the urgency of his request. “You have to do this."
"Do what?” she asked, growing more and more wary by the moment.
Keeping his gaze locked with hers, he dragged something from one of the burlap sacks and held it out to her.
"Oh, no.” She was already shaking her head, backing away several inches for good measure.
"Please, Hannah.” He took a step toward her, boxing her in. “Our lives depend on this."
For long seconds she stood stock-still, scowling and wishing 10,000 plagues on this devious, manipulative man.
"You'll owe me for this, Walker,” she bit out, calling him by the name he'd been encouraging her to use all along. “This had better work. And for this, you'll owe me forever. And I mean forever."
With that, she yanked the repugnant purple dress from his hands and marched toward the closet to transform herself from an innocent young schoolmarm into a practiced courtesan.
And then she was going to strangle David with a strip of lace from the Jezebel dress he loved so much.
Chapter Twelve
In a matter of minutes, Hannah changed out of her man's shirt and trousers and into the gaudy purple dress. When she stepped out of the darkened closet, David looked her over from head to toe, an appreciative light in his eyes. Hannah's stomach fluttered in response, but she had no intention of letting him know that.