Sinfully Supernatural

by Multiple

  Shading her eyes, she glimpsed a pair of hawks soaring lazily above. Wisps of white clouds puffed out to the north, but south, darker clouds were gathering, blotting out the blue sky on the horizon. The storm was miles off, but they’d need shelter if it came at them.

  Scarlett swiped away sweat with the sleeve of her shirt. She could wish it was cooler or that she’d thought to grab Sam’s hat before she left. Even tied into a braid, her hair felt thick and heavy against her brow. There were escarpments to the east. Enormous juts of rocks splitting upwards like slender stone fingers.

  They might provide shelter against the storm. They were at least a mile or two off, but the sweet and sturdy mare seemed to be enjoying her unexpected outing. Spilling a little water into her hand, Scarlett rinsed the sweat off her face and then sealed the canteen again. The mare looked up at her approach, going steady as she mounted and they were off.

  A cool breeze carrying the scent of moisture stirred the hot air. Scarlett looked south. The black clouds were spreading out rapidly, eating away the horizon with flashes of lightning jumping from cloud to cloud. She urged Dawn to a faster pace.

  Summer thunder often carried swift rain that pooled in low places and could easily turn into torrents and floods. Better to be on higher, dryer ground. Leaning forward, Scarlett hoped the outcroppings ahead boasted a cave that she and the mare could reach.

  The rain chased them, the first spits of water spattering against her face as the mare climbed the incline to the cave. Scarlett had to dismount to guide the mare inside. It was larger than the opening boasted, but the mare’s lack of alarm as her feet struck the stone floor was encouraging. She didn’t think even the rain could send a horse into a predator’s cave.

  At least she hoped not. Thunder rolled over head, a dozen boulders colliding in the sky above. Away from the entrance, the air was still moist with rain, but dry enough. She did what she could to make the mare comfortable, stripping down to her undershirt so she could wipe the mare down. Her shirt would reek, but she could wash it at the next stream they came too.

  The mare dropped her head, nearly dozing as the storm lashed against the world outside. Scarlett sat down on a rock, not even minding the hardness against her nearly numb rump. She never thought she could miss a saddle or even a blanket.

  Stretching her legs out in front of her, she leaned her head back against the cave wall and closed her eyes. If she dozed, maybe Buck would be too and he could find her sooner.

  A welcoming whicker from Dawn jerked her eyes open and lightning split the sky wide open, backlighting the figure filling the cave entrance.

  She couldn’t believe it.

  Sam stalked inside the cave, water rolling off the brim off his hat and dripping down the sides of the horse he led inside. He dropped the reins and pounced her before she could go for the gun.

  Water from his oil coat soaked through her britches and undershirt as he plucked the gun from the holster. She scrabbled, but he was already flipping her over, sitting on her abandoned rock. She landed on her stomach, across his knees. She turned her head, glaring up at him.

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Oh wouldn’t I?”

  She yelped as his hand landed on her backside with a stinging slap.

  “That’s for running.”

  The second slap wrung tears of surprise and outrage from her eyes.

  “That’s for hitting me.”

  The third set her lower lip trembling as a fire of tingles burned through the numbness of her backside.

  “That’s for charming Micah into letting you keep going.”

  By the fourth slap, Scarlett’s cheeks burned in humiliation and fury.

  “That’s for taking my damn gun.”

  He stood, dumping her onto the rock floor in front of him before retrieving his gun and going to his horse. Her ass stung worse than the time Wyatt had switched her for nearly burning down the outhouse.

  With Wyatt in it.

  Sam stripped off the horse’s gear, rubbed him dry and pulled out a pouch of feed from his saddlebags. She eased over onto her side, careful to not sit. Her bottom protested even that little movement. It took Sam minutes to feed both horses and then he was turning back to her, walking over, and reclaiming the rock to sit on.

  Even in the half gray light of the cave she could read the thunderous look on his face, the tightness to his jaw, the outline of a bruise on his cheek and the red lump swelling just below his hairline. He opened a canteen, a twin for the one that Micah passed off to her, and held it out to her.

  “Now, you were going to explain…”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sam ignored the nagging regret for the pained look creasing Scarlett’s face. The ache in his head was a dull throb matching the sting on his pride. He shook the canteen at her, both brows raising until she reached out and took the canteen. Her hand shook, but despite the outrage and her earlier struggle, she’d not burned him.

  So he was right about that much at least. She truly didn’t mean any harm, log notwithstanding. His brief smile earned him a frown as she shifted gingerly, careful to sit on her knees rather than her stinging bottom.

  “Now,” he said the words slowly, banking the flames of his own temper. He’d promised to listen. He’d promised to give her the opportunity. “You were going to explain.”

  “I wasn’t.” There was the sass that he enjoyed. He leaned against the cave wall, his gaze drifting from her narrowed gaze to her tight lips. She was furious with him.

  “You make fires. I don’t know how, but you can make water burn.”

  “Really, Marshal. I didn’t think you were one for fanciful tales.” She blocked him from her gaze, tipping the canteen up for another drink.

  “I’m not the marshal at the moment. I took off the badge, remember?”

  She hesitated.

  Good.

  “Scarlett, you’re going to tell me the truth.”

  “What is it with you and your family? Why can’t you just let me go?” There was a plaintive note in her question. He couldn’t speak for his father and brothers, but the fear that rode him until he caught up with her had nothing to do with the robbing of banks and everything to do with the minx glaring at him. Flashes of lightning glowed in her eyes, leaving them in shadow, and him wanting more each time it passed.

  “You weren’t sick a few days ago, were you?” he leaned forward, elbows resting lightly on his knees. He’d had a lot of time to think on that ride. A lot of pieces to assemble. “You were burning up, but you weren’t ill.”

  She lowered the canteen, but looked away from him to the cave entrance.

  “It’s raining too hard. The storm stretches for miles. Had you paid attention this morning, you would have seen it bearing down on Molly’s.”

  “It’s just water.”

  “No, it’s a storm. The runoffs will swell, overflow and rush to push the banks of the streams, the ponds and the creeks. The rocks will sluice it away from these caves, but with the wind and the rain, it would be treacherous to be afoot and more dangerous to be ahorse. You did well choosing this cave.” Had he not been watching so closely, he would have missed the brief smile that tilted up the corners of her mouth.

  “Micah told me to ride north and east. He said there would be shelter in the caves.”

  “He would know.”

  “Am I still on Kane land?”

  “Hmm-hmm.”

  She sagged then, shoulders drooping.

  “Why run?” Wind lapped at the cave mouth. At the tremors shaking her, he rose and ducked into the back of the cave. Water spilled down one of the walls, a small spring bubbling up from the rocks. It emptied into another divot in the stone floor, escaping to some underground waterway. The gloom was deeper here, the weak light at the cave entrance barely extending.

  He found the wood packed against the back wall by touch. He wasn’t surprised, his father kept caches such as this all over the pr
operty, prepared for the chance overnight stay away from the main house. He pulled several pieces out and carried them back to the front. Scarlett was at the entrance, one hand on the stallion, staring at the wall of water that fell from the swollen skies.

  Sam had seen storms like this. They could be here for the rest of the day.

  Surprisingly, that thought didn’t bother him. He stacked the wood close to the entrance, urging sleepy Samson further back into the cave, parking him next to Dawn. He returned to the wood, restacking it and choosing stray rocks to create a makeshift fire pit.

  “Can you light it?”

  Scarlett frowned at him, jerking her gaze to look back at the downpour.

  He waited. Despite his earlier rancor, he found he could draw from a much deeper well of patience, particularly now that she was safe. But she was cold. There was a hint of blue around her lips. Her undershirt clung damply to her skin.

  That was his fault. He should have stripped off the oil coat, but he believed in swift punishment and scaring the hell out of him definitely qualified. He shucked off the coat and circled the makeshift fire pit to drape it around her shoulders. He half expected her to pull away, but she sighed, as though resigned.

  “Scarlett.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Can you light the wood?”

  “I just wanted an adventure.”

  He could barely hear the quiet words.

  “I begged them for years to let me tagalong, to visit the towns they went to, to meet new people. They always said no.”

  “What made this time different?” He asked after a long silence.

  “I don’t know. I can be very annoying when I want to be.”

  He had to swallow a chuckle at the small note of pride in her voice for fear of cutting her off.

  “I had to promise to do what I was told and to keep my distance. We rode for weeks before we came to Dorado. It wasn’t the first town we stopped at either.”

  No, Sam knew that for certain. Riders had carried word of gold shipments that were sacked and other banks in further away towns that were robbed.

  “How long were you in Dorado?”

  “Well, if we count the time in your cell, Marshal…”

  “…Sam…”

  The tension in her shoulders eased under his fingers. He squeezed her right shoulder comfortingly, pleased when she didn’t pull away. Her face was still turned away, but he could see a hint of color blooming in her cheek. She was warming up.

  “…just a few hours. We made camp outside the town for two days, but they wouldn’t let me go in. And I wanted to see the dress shop and the general store. I wanted to walk down Main Street and dine in the restaurant. Maybe even stay in the hotel.”

  “The hotel is no place for a lady.”

  The quick burst of laughter caught him off guard. “That’s what they said, but they went to town. They went to the saloon and the brothel and the livery. They even got to go to the general store, but no, not me.”

  “But they took you to the bank?”

  “Well, no—not exactly.”

  She’d followed them. He saw that. She’d been left at their camp and his stubborn, impetuous little minx had followed them.

  “The whole reason I came with them was to see some of the world. To meet new people. But they wouldn’t even let me go into the towns. When they left for the bank, I was supposed to wait, but I wanted to see, even if it was just for a few minutes.”

  Headstrong and foolish.

  “Then you spoiled it.” The pout was so palpable in the words it was Sam’s turn to laugh.

  She turned her head and glared at him.

  “You were robbing a bank. It’s the marshal’s job to spoil those types of adventures.”

  Scarlett wrinkled her nose and pursed her pinkening lips. He eased closer, his hands continuing their gentle, squeezing massage on her shoulders. She was cold. He didn’t know if it was the story, the coat or his nearness or some combination of the three, but she was warming up.

  “What does the army need with so much gold, anyway?” She crossed her arms and leaned back against him. Her neck tilted to the side as he hit a particularly stubborn knot of muscle with his thumb. She made a low sound, almost a mewl as he dug his thumb in, forcing it to relax. “They pay their men less than a dollar per month.”

  “Does it matter? It belongs to them. It keeps the bank flush and provides security to other depositors. Taking the gold could have destroyed the banker and hurt the town.” Sam ignored the way her bottom brushed against his thighs. The more she relaxed, the more she leaned back towards him.

  “We needed the gold.” The admission was the first one she’d given voice to where the robbery was concerned, but Sam silenced the little voice in his mind that noted it. He wasn’t the marshal right now.

  “For what?” But for some reason, the question pressed too far. Stiffness threaded through her muscles and her jaw tightened. “Scarlett, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

  “Why do you even want to help me?”

  That was a fair question. Sam gave her a gentle tug as she leaned forward, settling her back against his chest, his fingers working the muscles along the back of her neck. She bent her head forward, allowing him.

  “First, you’re a lady. My father is right, no lady should have to pay for the crimes of the men in her life.”

  “And second?” She prodded when he went silent.

  “Because you’re different from any other lady I’ve ever met. You’re…” Unfortunately, he wasn’t a man given to many words. That was more Jason or Kid, hell, even Micah was better with the sweet words than he was. He growled mentally at the thought. Micah always knew what to say and he’d had a lot to say about Scarlett.

  “I’m what?” The guarded tone returned and this time, when she pulled away, he let her. Thunder rumbled across the sky, vibrating the rocks around them.

  “You’re beautiful.” He said bluntly. “Beautiful, loyal, spirited and free. You don’t want to fit into the molds my father and brothers are trying to build for you. You’re impetuous, stubborn and irritating. You defy convention and you do the unexpected.”

  She dropped her gaze, stretching her fingers out to the stack of wood. Sam held his breath, waiting. A sizzle shivered the air and then flames were licking greedily over the wood, pushing the damp, chilly air away.

  The red-gold light of the flames turned warmed her skin and flickered in her eyes as she glanced up to meet his gaze.

  “And you do things like that.” Admiration tucked into the words.

  “It doesn’t scare you?”

  “Should it?”

  “Most people would be afraid of someone who can just start a fire, who can burn things with her mind.” She squatted down, holding her hand to the flames. He fought the urge to jerk her hand away, watching as the pale fingers passed in and out of the hungry fire, unmarked.

  “Damn.” He dropped down, squatting opposite her. The fire warmed his face, the smoke drifting out the opening. The rain continued to pour outside, the horses making sleepy sounds inside and Scarlett’s hand danced in and out of the fire.

  “I don’t know how I can do this,” she admitted softly, her gaze on the flames. “For as long as I can remember, I could start them. It used to happen only when I was angry or very upset.”

  “That explains a lot.” Sam laughed. The sense of entitlement his minx wore like a badge of honor, likely earned by those cosseting her temper, afraid she’d burn everything down around her if she didn’t get her way.

  “It’s not funny.” Her protest carried a genuine sadness that sobered him. “I couldn’t play with others, I couldn’t travel far and they were always worried that I would be found out, that people would try to hurt me or worse.”

  Sam frowned. “What could be worse than hurting you?”

  “Using me.” She lowered herself, sitting gingerly, and with obvious discomfort, on the floor. Her actions remind
ed him of the stinging slaps he’d delivered to her bottom. He rose to his feet and circled the fire, heading back to the gear he’d stowed. He pulled out the bedroll and retrieved the pouches of food he’d pilfered from the kitchens.

  Returning, he nudged her over and set the bedroll down. He met her suspicious look with a half-smile. “I think your bottom will appreciate this more.”

  Scarlett hesitated, waiting for Sam to move away before shifting herself gingerly onto the softer surface. Her grimace pricked him. If she hadn’t been so stubborn and foolish, he wouldn’t have spanked her. As it was, she deserved a lot more than what he’d delivered, but he couldn’t bring himself to do more.

  Handing over the soft cloth pouch, amused at the loud gurgle her stomach bellowed when she opened it. “Cheese, biscuits and an apple. It’s not much, but better than nothing at all to eat.”

  It was early afternoon and he was sure she hadn’t eaten since the day before. Gratitude curled up the corners of her mouth and Sam found he was holding his breath again. She really did have the most magnificent smile, when she wasn’t scowling or pouting.

  “Thank you.” The great reluctance in those two words tugged another chuckle from him.

  “You’re welcome.” He waited for her to bite into the apple, chew, swallow and take another bite before opening his own pouch and choosing the fresh, doughy biscuits he’d pilfered from Lena’s cooling rack. She’d likely smack him later, but it was worth it for this brief moment of contentment.

  He let her eat, grabbing the canteen and passing it to her to wash down the apple, then the cheese and most of her biscuits. He liked the way she ate, her fingers plucking out the cubes of cheese and nibbling them with unabashed gusto.

  The food, the water and the fire coupled to fill in the hollows around her eyes, warming her skin from the sallow, sickly pale she’d been when he found her.

  “Who would use you?”

  She was silent for a very long time, so long, Sam feared she wasn’t going to answer.

  “The army. Other men. Powerful men. People who would want my fire for a weapon.” She paused, tracing a path over the surface of a biscuit with her finger. “My father warned me…he warned all of us…that man does not always appreciate the gifted that walk amongst them. That kings in foreign lands will bend those to their will or destroy them if they are not able and even though our land has no king, it still possesses those that want the rights of kings.”