"Eighteen," he murmured, and wished he could have been there to share it with her, to wish her a happy birthday. "All grown up now, huh? A woman of the world?"
She sensed him weakening and she tightened her arms around his waist, pressing herself against him, her hands kneading his back.
"Please, Creed," she begged fervently. "Please take me with you."
"I can't." He ran a hand through his hair. "Don't you understand? I'm a wanted man now."
"I don't care!"
"I do."
"Creed . . ."
"You don't know what it means, Jassy," he said gruffly. "I'll be riding the outlaw trail, depending on a poker table for cash, always looking over my shoulder. It's a miserable life for a man, and no life at all for a little bit of a girl like you."
She didn't care. All she knew was that he was leaving her, just like everybody else. First her pa, then Daisy, then Rose. She couldn't let Creed go. If he walked out of her life now, she knew she'd never see him again.
She gazed up at him, wondering how she could penetrate the hard shell he seemed to have drawn around himself. She knew she would never change his mind, not with words.
But there were other methods of persuasion.
Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her mouth to his and kissed him with all the passion that had been smoldering in her heart. She caressed his lower lip with her tongue, felt an exhilarating surge of power when he groaned deep in his throat, and then he was kissing her back, his arms closing around her like steel bars.
His tongue slid sensuously over hers, sending tremors of delight skittering through her.
"Oh girl . . ." His senses were reeling with her nearness. Her hair was like soft silk beneath his cheek. He could feel the curvy length of her body pressed against his, her warmth melting the coldness in his heart. Every breath he took was permeated with the warm, sleepy scent of her skin. With Jassy in his arms, in his life, he would never be cold or lonely again.
He held her close, his body aching with need. Her bed, that narrow little bed that she had been sleeping in, sent out an invitation that was darn near impossible to resist.
He had to get out, he thought desperately, now, while he still could, before he carried her to that bed and buried himself deep inside her. He was no good for her, no good at all. Even if he wasn't on the dodge, he was a half-breed. She wanted respectability. Well, she'd never have that if she married him. People might forgive her for being a saloon girl's daughter, but they would never forgive her for marrying a half-breed gunfighter.
His hands were trembling as, resolutely, he put her away from him.
He looked at her long and hard, wishing he could think of something to say, but in the end there were no words to convey what he was feeling.
Muttering an oath, he dragged his knuckles across her cheek, and then he walked out of the room.
He was running again. Running away from the best thing that had ever happened to him.
It was the hardest thing he had ever done.
Chapter Fourteen
Jassy watched him go, unable to believe Creed was really leaving her, unable to believe he could leave her. He cared. She knew he did. She had seen it in his eyes, tasted it in his kisses, heard it in the husky tremor of his voice.
Of course he cared, she thought. If he didn't, he wouldn't give two hoots in hell about what happened to her. He would have taken her with him, then dumped her somewhere along the way when he tired of her.
Jassy's heart swelled with tenderness as she realized the magnitude of the sacrifice Creed was making. He wanted her, but he was leaving without her, determined to go on alone rather than put her life in jeopardy.
But she couldn't, wouldn't, let him go. He had been alone all his life, she knew, alone and lonely. And she knew all too well what that was like.
She was rummaging through her dresser, trying to find something suitable to wear on the trail, when the door burst open. She glanced over her shoulder to find Creed standing in the doorway.
"Jassy." He lifted one hand, then let it fall in a gesture of helplessness. "I . . . I got to the edge of town and then . . ."
He crossed the room in three long strides and jerked her up hard against him.
"I tried to do the right thing," he muttered ruefully. "I told myself all the reasons why I should leave you here, but . . ."
He let out a deep sigh of resignation and despair. "Come with me."
Laughter bubbled up in Jassy's throat. "Oh, Creed, I was coming after you."
He looked surprised. "You were?"
She nodded. "I told myself you were being noble, leaving me behind because you were afraid for me. But I don't want to be alone anymore. And I don't want you to be alone, either."
"Noble, huh?" He grinned at her. "I'm no good, honey. I told you that a long time ago, and I guess this proves it."
Her face glowed in the candlelight. "It only proves you love me."
Love. Creed swore softly. Did he love her? How could he help it?
"Come on," he said gruffly, more certain than ever that he was making a mistake. "Let's get out of here."
"Just let me get a few things together."
"Hurry it up. I'll wait outside while you change."
Hurry she did. In less than ten minutes, she had donned her baggy blue dress, stuffed her few belongings into Creed's saddlebags, and tucked the pillow she had stolen from his hotel room under her arm. With a last look around, she opened the door, then closed it firmly behind her. It was symbolic, she thought, like closing the door on her old life.
Creed grimaced when she stepped into the hallway. "If it's the last thing I ever do, I'm gonna burn that dress," he muttered as he took the saddlebags from her hand.
Jassy nodded, her heart pounding wildly. She was going with Creed, and she didn't care where, as long as they were together.
She followed him down the hall, through the kitchen, and out the back door.
Creed's horse whinnied softly as they approached, and Creed shook his head, irritated by his lack of foresight. He would have to find Jassy a horse before long, not to mention a heavy coat and a hat to shade her face from the sun.
An unexpected wave of protectiveness swept through Creed as he thought of caring for Jassy, providing for her, loving her.
He took up the reins, but made no effort to mount as second thoughts crowded his mind.
''What is it?" Jassy asked.
Creed swore under his breath. In all his adult life, he had never been responsible for anyone but himself. What if he failed her? She was so young. She had no idea what she was letting herself in for. Even if he wasn't too old for her, even if he wasn't on the run, he was still a half-breed and nothing on God's green earth could change that. People would belittle her, shun her presence, treat her worse than poor white trash when they saw her with him.
He couldn't take her with him, he thought ruefully. He had already made a mess of his life. He couldn't ruin hers, too.
"Jassy."
She looked up at him, her face dappled by moonlight, her eyes shining with eagerness and trust.
"Jassy, I . . ."
"Is something wrong?"
Creed groaned low in his throat. Everything was wrong.
"Did you forget something?" Her smile faded as she saw the bleak expression in his eyes. "You've changed your mind, haven't you?"
Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. But the look in her eyes threatened to rip his heart to shreds.
"Jassy, listen . . ."
"It's all right. You don't have to explain."
Bravely, she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, like a soldier facing a firing squad.
"Here." Her voice quivered as she handed him the pillow she'd taken from the hotel. "You might need this."
Damn. He couldn't leave her. Her father had run out on her. Daisy had failed her. Rose had stolen every cent she had and skipped town without a backward glance. He couldn't walk out on her, too. Right or wrong, he couldn't leave her
behind.
"Hang on to it, honey," he replied ruefully. "You might want to use it before the night's over."
She gazed up at him, a glimmer of hope rising in her eyes.
Tenderly, Creed drew her close. Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"Promise you won't hate me, Jasmine Alexandria McCloud. No matter what happens, promise you won't hate me."
"I promise," she replied, her words muffled against his chest. "I could never hate you."
"I hope not," he muttered as he boosted her into the saddle, then swung up behind her. "I hope not."
It was three hours past midnight when Creed reined his horse to a stop. Jassy had fallen asleep in his arms long since, giving him plenty of time to chastise himself for bringing her with him, but, even knowing it was a mistake, he couldn't have left her behind. She needed someone and, right or wrong, that someone seemed to be him. He would find Rose, get his money back, get Jassy settled in some nice little town, and then he would get the hell out of her life before it was too late.
"Jassy. Wake up."
She stirred in his arms, snuggling against him.
He kissed her cheek. "Come on, Jassy, wake up."
Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared up at him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. We're gonna bed down here for what's left of the night."
Dismounting, he lifted her from the saddle, then removed his bedroll from behind the cantle and spread it on the ground.
He glanced briefly at Jassy, then at his blankets, and swore softly, knowing they would have to share his bedroll. Knowing it wasn't a good idea.
"Come on, honey, let's turn in."
She was too tired to argue. Fully clothed, she crawled under the blanket and curled up into a ball. She was asleep by the time he crawled in beside her, careful not to touch her in any way.
Folding his arms behind his head, he stared up at the sky, trying to ignore the woman beside him. How many nights had he tossed and turned on that damned narrow cot in prison dreaming of a woman, of Jassy, in his bed? Never in a million years had he imagined those dreams would actually come true.
He turned on his side, his back toward her, and listed all the reasons why he was no good for her, and when that failed to quell his desire, he started over again. He was too old. She was too young. He was a half-breed. She was a nice girl in spite of the way she'd been raised. She deserved the best. He was a wanted man. She was too young, too young, too damn young! . . .
He groaned deep in his throat as Jassy rolled over and molded her body to his, one arm sliding over his waist.
The heat of her breasts pressed against his back.
Her scent, warm and womanly, hovered in the air.
He swore softly as she snuggled closer, seeking the heat of his body.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Fifteen
Jassy pulled the blanket over her head, reluctant to let go of the beautiful dream she'd been having. Abruptly, she realized that her bed seemed awfully hard. The whinny of a horse brought her fully awake.
With a start, she sat up. It hadn't been a dream after all. Creed really had come for her.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him standing a few feet away, saddling the roan. For a moment, she sat there watching him, admiring the width of his shoulders, the way his muscles bunched and relaxed as he moved. The early morning sun glinted in his long black hair.
She felt a blush rise in her cheeks when Creed turned away from his horse and saw her staring at him. She had spent the night sharing his bed and had awakened just before dawn to find herself wrapped around him.
"Morning," he said, walking toward her.
"Morning."
He extended his hand and helped Jassy to her feet. "Are you ready to go?"
"Go?"
"I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. We need to find a town, lay in some supplies."
"I'm ready."
"Do you need toah, you know?"
The fire in her cheeks burned hotter. Head down, she hurried toward the shelter offered by a clump of bushes.
She refused to meet his eyes when she returned a few minutes later.
"Jassy?"
"What?"
"We're gonna be spending a lot of time alone on the trail. There won't be a lot of privacy, so I don't want you feelin' embarrassed about . . . about anything, okay? If you need to stop, you let me know."
Jassy nodded.
"Okay, then, let's ride."
Jassy's stomach was rumbling loudly by the time they reached the next town. To her dismay, Creed's first stop was at the livery stable, where he instructed the owner to give the roan a good rubdown and a generous helping of hay and oats.
"Always take care of your horse first," Creed remarked as he took Jassy's hand and started walking down the street. "You take care of him, and he'll take care of you."
Jassy nodded, though tips on horse care were the furthest thing from her mind. She was acutely aware of the tall man walking beside her, of his hand holding hers, his palm callused, his long fingers gripping hers with quiet strength.
As they neared a small restaurant, her stomach began to growl again.
Creed grinned down at her as he opened the door. "Think you can wait another couple of minutes?"
"If I have to."
The waitress brought them coffee, her gaze hardening when she looked at Creed. As she took their order, it was blatantly obvious that she objected to having a half-breed in the place, and just as obvious that she didn't have enough sand in her craw to refuse to serve him.
Jassy frowned at Creed. "What's wrong with her?" she asked when the waitress went into the kitchen.
"Same thing that's wrong with most people," he muttered.
"What do you mean?"
"Most people don't take kindly to half-breeds, Jassy. Some of 'em are downright nasty about it."
"Oh."
"And most of them won't think much of you for associating with one," Creed said flatly. "You'd best get used to it if you plan to travel with me."
"Creed, people have been looking down on me all my life," Jassy replied candidly. "Don't you think I'm used to it by now?"
"I don't know. Are you?"
She lifted her chin defiantly. "Yes."
"But you don't like it?"
"Of course not, but I can't do anything about it."
"Maybe, maybe not."
"What do you mean?"
Creed shook his head. "Well talk about it later."
She wanted to pursue the matter, but their food arrived then, and eating suddenly seemed more important than answers.
Twenty minutes later, she sat back, utterly content.
"Don't tell me you're finished," Creed remarked, amazed, as always, by the amount of food she put away.
Jassy nodded. I couldn't eat another bite."
"It's a good thing," he muttered with a wry grin. "Another bite, and I doubt if my horse could carry us both."
Jassy made a face at him. "Very funny, Mr. Maddigan."
"Sure you don't want another stack of pancakes? More bacon? Eggs? Another cup of coffee?"
Jassy made a face at him. "I'm sure."
"Let's go then."
Lifting his hat from the back of his chair, Creed stood up and dropped a couple of dollars on the table.
Their next stop was the mercantile. Creed bought Jassy a pair of levis, a long-sleeved flannel shirt, thick wool socks, a pair of sturdy boots, a wide-brimmed hat, and a bedroll of her own.
"You can change on the trail," he said as he thrust the clothing into her hands.
"But I've never worn pants!" she exclaimed, scandalized by the mere idea.
"Well, I'm sure they'll be less trouble than a dress and a dozen petticoats. And I'm sick of that blue thing."
"I just wore it to travel in. I have another one."
"Good, 'cause I'm burning that blue one tonight."
"No, Creed, I don't have that many c
lothes."
"Then get yourself another dress, 'cause that blue one's about to be history."
Jassy smiled. There was no arguing with the man, she thought, and that was fine with her. She hadn't had many new dresses in her life, and she was as sick of that blue dress as he was.
She picked out a pink muslin and held it up for Creed's approval.
"Just as long as it's not blue," he muttered.
She trailed after him while he bought supplies, conscious of the looks of disdain and distrust that followed him. Funny, back in Harrison it had never occurred to her that people held Creed in contempt because he was a half-breed. She had always thought their apprehension was because of his reputation as a hired gun.
Now, paying more attention, she saw the fear in the eyes of the women, the wariness in the eyes of the men.
She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders when she overheard a couple of the women whispering about her behind her back, declaring that she must be no better than white trash to keep company with a dirty half-breed.
Tears of anger and hurt stung her eyes, and she blinked them back. Narrow-minded old biddies. What did they know about anything, about being poor and hungry, about being ashamed of living in a dirty little shack in a dirty little alley? Fat, rich old crones, what right did they have to judge her?
Hands balled into tight fists, she followed Creed out of the store.
"You okay, honey?" Creed asked.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I heard what they said."
"Nasty old . . . old . . ." She stamped her foot because she couldn't think of a word bad enough to call them. "I'm not white trash!"
"I know."
''What right do they have to call me names? I could understand it in Harrison, where everybody knew who I was, who my mama was. But those women don't even know me."
A shadow of regret passed across Creed's eyes, and she saw a muscle twitch in his jaw before he said, "They knew you were with me."
"They don't know you, either!"
"Jassy . . ."
She was getting angrier by the minute. "Doesn't it make you mad, having people look down on you like that?"
He loosed a weary sigh. "It used to, but what the hell, you can't change the world." He slid his knuckles over her cheek. "I warned you how it would be."
Madeline Baker - Lakota Renegade Page 12