Renegade's Lady

by Bobbi Smith

  Brand stared at her, knowing what a rare woman she was. He had not forgotten her kiss or her touch. He couldn't. It had been for that very reason that he'd stayed away from her since they'd been rescued. She was beautiful, soft, and sweet; yet she had enough spirit and strength of will to make her a match for any man. She had suffered his worst temper and had not flinched before him. He admired her, and more. . . .

  And it was for that very reason that he had to let her go.

  But she was lovely. As he looked down at her, he tried to resist the temptation to kiss her just once more. He remembered far too clearly how her last kiss had affected him, and he knew it was dangerous. But after tomorrow, she would disappear from his life and he would never see her again. He wanted . . . no, he needed, just one last fleeting taste of her sweet innocence before she was gone. . . .

  "Sheri . . ." He said her name softly.

  "Oh, Brand . . ." Sheri looked up at him and saw the flaring emotion in his shadowed gaze. She was leaving. They would never be together again. She knew in that one fleeting instant that she had to have the memory of one more kiss to take with her. Sheri forgot all the harsh things he'd said to her in the cave. She remembered only the pleasure of his embrace and how much she'd come to care for him.

  Taking a step nearer, she stood on tiptoe to press her lips to his. Her kiss was sweet and gentle, but she knew it could be so much more.

  Brand's control was iron; he would accept her kiss and no more. Then he tasted the sweetness of her, and her heady scent surrounded him, and his rigid control snapped. His arms came around her, crushing her to his chest as his mouth plundered hers with passion's intent. He wanted her . . . damn, but he wanted her. . . .

  Sheri responded fully to his heated embrace. She had wanted this, had longed for this. She gloried in the feel of his hard body against hers, and she wanted to know more. Even as she thought it, though, she knew she had to stop. Though he might want her for a moment, now, in the shadowy moonlight, she knew the truth of his feelings. This wasn't the Brand of her imagination. This was the real, live Brand who was so much more exciting and intriguing and dangerous to her sensibilities. With all the willpower she could muster, she drew away from him, stepping free of his embrace. She gazed up at him in the moonlight, her heart breaking.

  "Good-bye, Brand," she said in a whisper.

  And then she was gone.

  Brand stood unmoving as he watched her go. He was tempted to go after her, to stop her and ask her to stay. But he didn't. He couldn't. He kept watch over her until she disappeared back inside the party; then he turned and walked off into the night. It was better this way. She would be safe and happy back East writing her books.

  "There's Sheri," Maureen said to Charles as she caught sight of her cousin coming in the door. "I guess she just needed a breath of fresh air."

  "I could use one, too . . . if you're in the mood to accompany me for, say, a stroll in the moonlight?"

  She glanced up at him archly. "Are you planning on making me pay up tonight?"

  "It had been on my mind."

  There was an intimacy to his smile that sent a thrill coursing through her.

  "Mine, too," she said, sounding slightly breathless.

  "Shall we go outside?"

  She nodded and took his arm as he led her out into the night. They moved a little away from the lights and noise of the house, wanting a moment or two alone, just the two of them.

  "Beautiful," Maureen said, gazing up at the star-spangled sky.

  "Yes," he agreed.

  She cast a sidelong glance at him to find that he wasn't looking up, but was looking straight at her.

  "Oh . . ."

  Charles gently took her in his arms and drew her to him. "I've been wanting to do this for days now . . ."

  There, under the stars, he kissed her.

  Maureen didn't know why she was surprised by the passion in his kiss. Perhaps it was because he was always so logical and controlled in everyday dealings. But there was nothing logical or controlled about his embrace, and she loved it. His mouth slanted over hers with heated possession. She looped her arms around his neck, wanting to be even closer to him. Encouraged by her move, he deepened the kiss.

  The sound of distant voices intruded as someone left the party early, and Charles was forced to release Maureen. He moved a respectable distance away, so no one would suspect that he had just been collecting his "winnings."

  Maureen felt almost bereft when he released her so suddenly.

  "We have company," he said quietly.

  Had there been more light, Charles would have seen that Maureen was blushing quite prettily.

  "I was so busy worrying about paying off my gambling debt that I completely forgot myself."

  "I'm glad you did. I certainly enjoyed myself."

  "I'm just glad your hearing is better than mine." She slanted him a smile that promised much.

  "We'd better go back in, don't you think?"

  "I'm afraid so. Who knows? Sheri may be needing us to rescue her from Philip."

  "I wonder where Brand is?"

  "I don't know, and that's too bad. I know she wanted to tell him good-bye before we left for town tomorrow."

  "Maybe she'll get to see him in the morning."

  As the evening came to a close, Sheri found the ever-attentive Philip at her side.

  "May I escort you back to your quarters?" he asked gallantly.

  "Thank you. I'd like that," she answered, silently giving thanks that after tomorrow she would never have to deal with him again.

  She thanked Cecelia and the captain for hosting the party, and they left with Charles and Maureen following.

  "It was a lovely evening. Thank you for thinking of it," she complimented Philip.

  "It was my pleasure. I'm just glad that everything turned out so well."

  "It has."

  "Is there anything more I can help you with? Anything else you need to know about the workings of the fort or about the cavalry?" he asked chivalrously.

  "I believe I've got everything, but I'll be sure to write you if I think of something else I need to know."

  "It would be my pleasure to help."

  She smiled up at him. "You've been a big help already. I know this book is going to be wonderful."

  "I wish you every success with it."

  "Thank you."

  "Who knows? Maybe you'll want to come back again and research another."

  "You never know. Charles is going to help us in town when we go to Phoenix for a few days," she said, encouraging the other couple to join in the conversation.

  "I thought I'd show them how the newspaper office runs and a few other things around town."

  "I hope it all goes well for you."

  They reached their quarters, and Charles bade them all good night.

  "I'll see you in the morning. The stage leaves about one o'clock, so well have to be ready by then."

  "We'll be ready," Maureen told him. "And thank you for a lovely evening."

  "It was my pleasure," Charles told her with a slight bow, meaning every word. "Good night."

  Maureen went on inside after telling Philip good night, too, but she left the door ajar so Sheri was not forced to be totally alone with him.

  "Well, I'd better go inside now. Again, thank you for all that you've done."

  "I'll see you in the morning?" he asked hopefully.

  "I'm sure."

  He started to move toward her as if to kiss her, but Sheri was too quick for him. She stepped through the door and effectively cut him off.

  "Good night."

  Philip understood her reluctance and attributed it to her being a lady. Still, he would have liked to kiss her. He thought her quite attractive, and he was more than eager to earn a place in her book. He was, after all, the dashing cavalry officer who'd rescued her from almost certain death in the desert mountains. He felt confident as he swaggered back to his own quarters smiling.

  Brand had not meant t
o watch, but when he saw Sheri emerge on the lieutenant's arm, he couldn't look away. He had stayed out of sight, feeling a little like a renegade before a raid as he'd watched the officer take her home and then attempt to kiss her. He couldn't believe how much it had pleased him when Sheri effectively out-maneuvered the lieutenant. He had stayed there until she was safely inside with the curtains closed, and then he disappeared into the darkness.

  Brand knew he should never have kissed her, but there had been no helping it. The finality of realizing that she was leaving and he would never see her again was haunting him. He told himself that it was what he wanted. He wanted her out of his life. She'd caused nothing but chaos since she'd shown up. Yet a part of him wanted to spend more time with her,

  wanted to get to know her better. It was not to be.

  Agitated and knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep, Brand saddled his horse and rode from the fort. As a scout, he had more liberty of movement than the regular troops. He knew that as long as he returned before the next scout went out, no one would care that he'd gone.

  Surrounded by the night, Brand rode aimlessly across the land. At first, he hadn't been sure where he was heading, but as the night aged, his traveling took on purpose and direction. It had been a long time since he'd returned there, but he knew he had to go.

  The wee hours of the morning found him back at his old ranch, still deserted and forsaken. He had not visited Becky's grave in several years. There had seemed no point. For all that her body might be there, she was not. She was gone from him forever.

  Brand dismounted and made his way to the grave site. He found it easily and stood over it, thinking about Becky and the love they'd shared. It had been an idyllic time for him, and it had ended far too soon. But that had been years ago. He had carried the pain of her loss with him every day since. It would never go away, but it seemed to be changing. He wondered now, as he thought of Sheri and the feelings she aroused in him, if he just might be able to come to care for someone again.

  The idea was foreign to him. He had vowed never to let that happen; yet somehow Sheri had slipped passed his guard. He didn't know how she'd done it, whether by pure grit and determination or what, but she had.

  An image of her danced in his thoughts and surprised him. He had expected his thoughts to be filled with Becky, yet Sheri was the woman whose face was mirrored in his mind's eye, whose kiss he longed for, and whose smile touched his heart.

  He turned away from the grave and slowly mounted up again. He sat on his horse watching the sunrise. It was a new day, but could he start a new life? He had no answer.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brand, the Half-Breed Scout, or Trail of the Renegade

  The Plot Thickens

  The force of the gunshot sent Rachel staggering backward. She looked up to find the warrior wounded, but still on his feet. He was advancing on her, knife in hand. Rachel lifted the rifle to fire again, but he attacked before she could pull the trigger. Brand was fighting the renegade who'd attacked him when he heard the gunshot. In a burst of fury, thinking something had happened to Rachel and Mercy, he overpowered and killed the warrior, then charged to his feet, gun drawn to go to their aid. He saw the brave lunge at Rachel and wanted to shoot, but he couldn't get a clear shot. He was there in an instant, dragging the warrior away from her. When the renegade turned on him, Brand shot him dead.

  "Rachel . . ." he said her name in a strangled voice as he hurried to her side to find that she'd been stabbed.

  He tore a strip of cloth from her gown to fashion a bandage to stop the bleeding. There were still a few hours left until daylight, but he needed to get a better look at Rachel's wound. She gave a moan of pain as he gathered her up in his arms.

  "Brand?" she asked as she opened her eyes to find herself in his arms. "Are you all right?"

  "You saved my life," he told her.

  She smiled weakly. "I'm glad."

  "I'll get you out of here," he promised.

  "I know," she sighed.

  Carefully carrying her, he headed for a small cave he knew was close. He could keep her safe there and better tend to her wounds.

  As he moved off slowly through the night, Brand worried about the captain's wife. She was on horseback, alone in territory she didn't know. He knew the dangers that could befall her and knew he had to find her fast, before anything happened to her. . . .

  Sheri watched out the window of the stage until the last vestige of Fort McDowell was lost from sight. Brand had not appeared that morning to say goodbye, and as she settled back into her seat, she was careful not to let any of her disappointment show in her expression.

  ''Well, we're finally on our way back to civilization," Maureen said lightly, looking forward to being back in town. "Are you going to miss the fort?"

  "Not after last night," Sheri replied, still remembering the wives' comments at the party. "It will be nice to be in town." She looked at Charles, who was recovering very nicely from his wound. "I'll bet you're going to be glad to be back in your office."

  "It's got to be safer for me, that's for sure," he answered with a smile.

  "You are feeling better, aren't you?" Sheri asked.

  "My shoulder's still very sore and I'm sure it's going to be stiff for a while, but yes, I am much stronger."

  "Good," she said with a smile. "I expect the forty-cent tour of Phoenix from you as soon as you're up to it."

  "We can start tomorrow. Tonight, however, I'd like to take you both to dinner, if you'd honor me with your presence?"

  "Why, Charles, that's so nice of you."

  "We'd be delighted," Maureen answered without hesitation.

  They fell into a companionable silence, suffering the jostling of the stage as it traveled the distance to town.

  Sheri stared sightlessly out the window. Memories of the last week played in her mindof Brand the first time she'd seen him in town, looking very much the warrior, of Brand's surprise at her finding the renegades' tracks and of how he'd saved her life that day. She thought of their first night in the cave and of how he'd kept watch so vigilantly to keep her safe from harm. She recalled far too vividly for her peace of mind the fighting and how she'd shot the renegade to save Brand's life. She remembered, too, his tenderness that night in the darkness of the cave . . . and the glory of his touch. For as long as she lived, Brand would always be in her thoughts and in her heart. She knew the difference now between the Brand of her story and the real Brand, but it was too late. She was leaving, and he didn't care.

  Sheri was so lost in her memories that she did not see the lone rider who sat atop a hill in the distance, watching the stage's passage. She did not know that Brand had come to say good-bye.

  Phoenix was alive with activity, and Sheri, Maureen, and Charles were glad when they arrived at the stage office. Charles was favoring his injury a bit as he descended, the jarring ride having taken its toll on him. He made sure Maureen and Sheri were safely at the hotel before retiring to his own home to get some much-needed rest and to begin writing his column for the paper.

  Charles met them, and they dined early that night. When they returned to the hotel, Maureen stopped with Sheri outside the door to her room. Maureen sensed something was wrong, and she wanted to help if she could.

  "You're going to miss Brand, aren't you?" Maureen asked perceptively.

  "I thought you were going up to your room."

  "I am, just as soon as I'm sure you're going to be all right."

  "I'm fine."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Of course. When haven't I been fine?"

  "But with Brand, it seems different somehow."

  "He was different. I've never met anyone like him before. He was honest and brave and . . ."

  "Do you love him?"

  The question surprised her. "I don't know, but even if I did, what would it matter? He has his life here." There was a weary acceptance in her voice. "What about Charles? How do you feel about him?"

  "We weren't talking
about me, we were talking about you."

  "Then there's nothing more to say. I'm going to go home and write my Brand, the Half-Breed Scout book, and live happily ever after, just like my heroines."

  "And your book's going to sell better than Carroll and Condon ever dreamed!"

  "You always say just the right thing."

  "I like to make you happy."

  Sheri lifted her gaze to her cousin's. "I don't know if I'll ever be happy again."

  "Sure you will. You'll see." Maureen hugged her impulsively.

  "I hope you're right, but right now, I'm not sure."

  Maureen went on into her room. Sheri reached her own room, but instead of sleeping, she got out her paper and pencils and stayed up until the wee hours of the morning writing. She wanted to get down on paper all the turbulent emotions that were tearing at her heart. She could use them in her work. She would make this her most powerful book. She wanted the hero to be bigger than life, and he would be. This was Brand's book. She would make sure it was perfectfor him.

  The next day, Charles met them at mid-morning and gave them a tour of the Salt River Herald's office. He introduced them to his boss, Jeremy Davis. Jeremy was an older, silver-haired man, who was quite taken with Sheri and her career, and he plied her with many questions about the publishing industry. Afterward, they walked the streets of Phoenix, stopping at the blacksmith's and the dry goods store, and even peeking in the window of a saloon, just so Sheri could get the feel of a real Western town. The oil portrait of the robust, naked, reclining woman over the bar brought a blush to her cheeks. She took a lot of notes that day, intending to use most of the information in one way or another in the story. It was mid-afternoon when they stopped at the jail to meet the sheriff.

  "Sheriff Warren, this is Miss Sheridan St. John and her cousin, Maureen Cleaver, of New York. Miss St. John is a novelist, and she's in town doing research for her next book," Charles explained as they stepped inside the office.

  "I've been hearing talk that you were in the area," the sheriff said as he rose from his desk and went to greet them. "Would you like to see the jail?"