They both became aware of the quiet at the same time. With his hand on her shoulder, Mike motioned her to stay put as he rose and inched his way around the wagon. Lacey couldn’t wait and went around the other side. The street was empty.
“Lacey!”
She spun around to find Curt at her back, rifle in hand. “Are you all right?” he demanded, coming to her.
“I need to find Rafe.”
She started off at a run toward the cluster of trees past the last cabin on the street. People milled about, but she neither looked nor answered their questions, calling Rafe’s name when there was no sign of him.
She turned back, tears glistening in her eyes when she saw him stumble into the street from between the saloon and livery, jerking the rope off him.
“Rafe, are you hurt?” Her steps faltered. She couldn’t believe he first turned to the woman at his side. It was April Darcy. Lacey’s chin rose, her hand shaking as she holstered her gun, forcing herself to walk to him. His shirt was torn, his cheek bled, and April was already using her neckerchief to wipe it. Whatever desire Lacey felt to comfort him died.
“What happened, Rafe? I left you for a few minutes, and you couldn’t stay out of trouble.”
“Lord, Lacey!” April cried. “He almost got killed, and you act like a cold-blooded bitch. How could you blame him?”
Pride kept Lacey silent. People crowded her from behind, April clutched Rafe’s arm, and both Spanish Mike and Curt fired questions at Rafe.
“Didn’t see them,” he muttered, accepting a drink from the bartender. He tossed it down, wiping his mouth. “It all happened too fast.”
Curt drew Lacey to one side. “This could have been Farel’s doing. You said he swore to get even with you. Rafe’s dangerous, Lacey. He’ll get you killed.”
“Could be.” But Lacey wasn’t listening, not really. She watched April, using water someone had brought to her, wipe Rafe’s face. A white-hot spear of jealousy pierced her. If Rafe got any closer to his angel of mercy, he’d be draped tighter than April’s corset. She flashed Rafe a disgusted look. “If you’re done being fussed over, I’m ready to leave.”
“Lacey, wait. I’ll ride back with you,” Curt said.
Rubbing his shoulder, Rafe limped over to them. “No need.” He dusted off his battered curled-brim hat, put it on, and eyed the bullet holes in the wagon. “My partner will protect me.”
“Or kill you,” April whispered from behind him.
“You keep that thought in mind, April.” Lacey climbed onto the wagon seat, snapping the reins as Rafe settled next to her.
Chapter 10
Once they were well on their way, Lacey slowed the horses to a walk. “How bad are you hurt?” Her voice was gruff. She wouldn’t look at him, and she prayed he wouldn’t think she was soft for asking.
“I’ve been worse.”
Well! So much for her trying to show concern. He certainly wouldn’t get any sympathy from her again. “And you didn’t recognize those men?”
“Like I said, it happened fast. I was standing by the wagon, waiting for Spanish Mike, and the next I knew someone tossed a rope over me and yanked me down.”
Lacey gnawed her lip. She wanted an explanation of April’s presence, but his tone did not lend itself to her asking. She knew he couldn’t have arranged to meet April. He didn’t know until they were away from the ranch that she wanted to go to Sonora. But April had no reason to be there. Unless Darcy was behind this attack on Rafe. Whatever Rafe thought, he was keeping it to himself.
The horses scented the rain seconds before the first drops fell. Lacey pulled up, scrambled over the seat, and began to pull the tarp over their supplies. Rafe joined her, but in moments a torrent hit them.
“Get underneath,” he ordered, making a grab for the reins as the horses shied.
Lacey squirmed and wiggled herself backward to ensure that the canvas was tucked tight to keep their foodstuffs dry. Moving forward, she struggled to keep her skirt and petticoats from bunching up around her hips. Rafe was wedged in a crease between barrels and sacks. He extended his hand to her, his pain hidden by the darkness as he hauled her to him. Damp as she was, Lacey, with her back against his chest, found herself embarrassed as they fit together spoon fashion. Rafe’s arm was locked around her waist; his breath curled over her ear, across her cheek, and mingled with her own. She inhaled the scents of whiskey, smoke, and peppermint.
“Ease up, princess,” he whispered. “We’ll be here a while. If you’re hungry, I saved you an apple. Or did you satisfy your appetite with Curt?”
“What if I did? I don’t account to you,” she snapped, using his own words.
“I warned you that I’ll be the only man in your bed. Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not!” She ignored his threat. If she didn’t, she knew Rafe would think she was challenging him.
“Did he give you the papers?”
“No. He didn’t have them.” She strained away from him, but he pulled her back. The intimacy of the dark, the rain, and their closeness made Lacey desperate to keep him talking. The cool damp had given way to the heat of their bodies. Rafe’s breathing was slow and deep. Her own was erratic. “Curt thinks that Ward Farel was behind that attack on you. I didn’t see who they were. But it bothers me that anyone knew—”
“Lacey, it’s over. Stop worrying about it.”
His heartbeat seemed to be pounding into her, his tone was dismissive, but Lacey valiantly tried again. “Rafe, how did Sy meet your mother? I … we haven’t talked about—”
“And you think now is the right time?” She couldn’t see the grin that went with his teasing, but he didn’t miss her sincerity. She chose that moment to shift her weight. Her buttocks were snug against the cradle of his hips and the last thing Rafe wanted to do was talk. She was woman soft, woman-scented, and woman warm. He tilted his head, brushing his lips against her neck, pushing her hat off and then his own.
“Rafe, don’t. We need to—”
“Talk,” he murmured, inching his way up a bit so that he could reach her mouth. “There’s another way to get to know each other, bright eyes.”
Lacey buried her face against the rough burlap. It didn’t stop him from trailing kisses alongside her neck, his laughter male and knowing when she trembled. Her mumblings were lost to him as he traced the shape and curl of her ear, then bit down gently on the sensitive lobe. She shivered, the echo of her own heartbeat pounding dully in her ears. Like the brush of a night breeze, his hand rose from her waist to cup her chin and turn her face.
“I’ve wondered if you tasted as good as I remembered.” His mouth lowered to hers, fitted itself perfectly to the shape, and with a tenderness that he didn’t know he was capable of giving, he kissed her.
Lacey was armed against aggression. She had no ready defense against the beguiling softness of his lips. Traces of whiskey and the sharp flavor of mint passed from his mouth to hers. He was not taking from her, but wooing her response in so delicate a fashion, she helplessly gave him what he wanted.
“So much woman hidden under that hard shell,” he whispered, levering himself up and shifting her beneath him. He made a husky sound that was almost a groan, his arms tight around her. In a smooth motion he captured her mouth, sliding his tongue inside. His hand caressed her back, his fingers tangled in her braid. Rafe arched her body so that her breasts were pressed against his hard chest. He began rocking his hot, erect male flesh against her. His tongue moved in the same sensuous stroking as his powerful body, and slowly Lacey softened, giving those same rhythms back to him.
He winced as he moved his injured shoulder, but had to touch more of her. His hand caressed the length of her body, and half-wild cries fed his own desire. Her back arched in a reflex as old as passion, and he took what she offered, cupping his hand over one breast to find the sensitive tip. Her k
ittenlike cry stoked the fire that burned inside him to possess her, and he kneaded her soft heated flesh until her nipple hardened into a thrusting point.
Flooded by the wild sensations his touch and kisses brought, Lacey quivered in response. She opened her mouth wider beneath his, her fingers threaded through his hair. The drumming beat of the rain melded with the beat of her blood. Rafe offered a haven from the world where she had to be on guard, always strong. His kiss, the taut length of his body, his own husky sounds made her revel in being aroused, in being a woman. The hiss of his breath came swiftly, suddenly, and she opened her eyes to the intense gaze of his.
“Rafe?”
“It’s all right, bright eyes,” he said, his tone deep, gritty.
Lacey had no chance to ask what he meant. His mouth replaced his hand on her breast. Sweet and hot, the moist searching caress of his tongue made her cry out. Without knowing it, she held his head hard against her, filled with a wild pleasure. His urgent suckling made her breath come quickly, raggedly. The savage race of her blood left her defenseless, seething with a desire she had never known. His knee wedged a space between her legs, their cramped quarters hampering his move. When he lifted his head, she reached for him, aching to feel his mouth loving her again.
“Rafe … please,” she whispered huskily.
He took her mouth almost roughly. Hunger rode him. As suddenly as the kiss began, he ended it. “You were right, princess. It’s not the right time or place.” His lips brushed hers, and he settled back. “But for both our sakes, don’t move. I want you so much, it’s pulling me apart, and I want you to trust me.”
Lacey didn’t move. Not by his order, but for being stunned by his withdrawal. She hadn’t tried to stop him. The rain had eased to a gentle patter, but the tension between them thickened like a coming storm.
“You don’t understand, do you?” he asked in a tortured voice. “I want you so bad right now, I hurt. But I can’t take you here … not like this.” He took her silence as an accusation. “I shouldn’t have started anything. The wagon is too cramped, but I could take you on the open ground like some cheap puta. But even someone like me enjoys the comfort of a clean bed. The first time—”
“First time!” she spat out with a sharp little laugh. “I told you once that’s not a gift I can give you.” Raw, hot, and aching, Lacey refused to lie.
“I remember,” he muttered softly. “I was talking about the first time for us. The rest doesn’t matter. Whoever it was didn’t make you feel hot and wild. You wouldn’t be here with me like this if he had.”
Rage for his assumption mingled with shame inside her. She had no denial to offer him. How he knew what she felt, Lacey didn’t know. It was true, but it hurt. “Is that how it was for your mother with Sy?”
“She loved him.” Rafe grated the words from between clenched teeth.
“And Sy, did he love her?”
“She believed he did. Her family slaved for one of the criolla families that hold their pure Spanish blood to be a God-given treasure. Sy came in thirty-eight to buy cattle. That was when she met him. A rich gringo. He came again the year after, and the third time he came back in forty, they became lovers.”
“I don’t understand. He went East, met and married my mother the year after. Forty-one, Fletcher said. But Fletcher also told me Sy had gone back to Mexico several times. Maybe he was searching for her?”
“It didn’t matter. Her family shamed her when she told them she was carrying his child. At first she believed he was coming back for her. When he didn’t, she ran away. My mother wouldn’t let her child be raised to slave for anyone.”
Envy touched Lacey. “Then your mother was strong. Mine was so full of grief from burying an infant year after year that she ran away. Sy didn’t even go after her. He waited and then wrote to Maggie that he wouldn’t travel the winter roads with her because she was carrying a child. And now I know that she met the man who fathered me while she was back East.”
“Maybe you’re better off not knowing.”
His voice was emotionless, but Lacey once again sensed underlying pain. “Why didn’t she come to Sy? He was hard, but he was fair. I know he would have taken care of her. If he did love her, Rafe, Sy would have married her, and I would know who my father is.”
“I guess it was her pride. She crossed the border and met Hilton Parrish, and married him to give me a name. That is the only thing he gave me. He was a gambler, and when he was winning, we lived good, but when he lost…”
Lacey groped for his hand, entwining her fingers with his. “Please, Rafe, don’t stop. This is the first time you’ve told me anything, and you did ask me to trust you.”
“And the past matters, princess? All ready to judge me by blood and background?”
She flinched from his hard, sarcastic tone. “No. I simply want to understand.”
“We trekked all over … backwater mining camps, where he would scrounge up a stake most times by taking whatever money my mother earned by washing stinking clothes or cooking for miners. We lived in places they called towns ’cause they had a trading post and saloon. I guess I was about ten or so when we went back to Mexico.”
Lacey didn’t push him for more, but she felt a need to share with him. “Fletcher once told me that Sy thought my constant questions made him feel taller than God and smarter than the devil. I would have done anything to see warmth in his eyes when he looked at me.” Her voice was flat with bitterness. “Now that I know I’m not his, I can understand why he held himself away from me. You call me princess, but I wasn’t, Rafe.” This time his fingers pressed hers. “I had to earn everything from him. When I proved myself to his satisfaction, he would give me a gift. Not the smile I longed for, or a hug, but something he could buy with money. I hated him for using money to control everything. I would hate any man that did the same.”
Rafe listened and felt his gut twist. The rain had slackened to a mere drizzle, and he knew he had to stop her before she said more.
“It’s time we started for home, Lacey.”
The day had shaded down to gray dusk. Lacey didn’t understand why he had once again withdrawn as they headed home.
She ached from the tension and thought longingly of a hot bath. She wouldn’t even mind a bit of Maggie’s pampering to help soothe the emotional wringer Rafe had subjected her to. The first faint pinpoints of light were a welcome sight, and she sighed.
“Bet you’re thinking of a hot soak,” Rafe said. “I can act the gentleman and let you go first.”
“I wasn’t planning on giving you a choice,” she snapped at his reminder of their having to share the same tub. Truth was, she hated being vulnerable to him.
The wagon wheels splashed through mud puddles, and Lacey sat forward anxiously. “Something’s wrong.”
Rafe had already noticed the bobbing lantern lights off toward one of the corrals. He urged the horses to a faster pace.
“Where in tarnation you two been?” Fletcher yelled. “Got to thinkin’ I’d be forced to come lookin’. Luke rode hell-bent for leather aways back to find you. They hit us again. He sent Blew, Cal, and Mertson after them. Ran off close to sixty head this time. Got a good night horse saddled for you, Rafe.”
“Was anyone hurt?” Lacey demanded to know, cursing her long skirt as she jumped down.
“Not this time.”
“I’ll use my roan, Fletcher.”
“No, Lacey.”
She glanced from Rafe’s hand on her arm up to his face. “No?”
“Trust me, Lacey.”
“You two gonna stand jawin’?”
“You were hurt once today, Rafe. And it might surprise you, but I do know this range.”
He held her steady gaze with his own level one. “I’m not saying that you don’t. I’m asking you again to trust me. Stay here where you’ll be
safe.”
Be a woman, his eyes begged. Let me protect you and what we claim, they demanded. And Lacey, to her shock, agreed.
But it was a frustrated Rafe that returned late the next afternoon after another fruitless search. He was barely able to stand in the doorway of the office.
“We couldn’t pick up a trail,” he said to Lacey.
“Get some sleep, Rafe.”
“What’s all that on the desk?”
“Cattle counts, outstanding notes on the Reina. I don’t know how much the judge told you about our debts. But they’re heavy. We need every head to sell, or we could lose the land.”
He couldn’t meet her gaze. “Who knows?”
“Anyone that rides for us. Rafe,” she whispered, appalled at his exhausted state, “we’ll talk about this later. Get some rest.”
He shoved his hat back, rubbing the back of his hand against his forehead. “You ever think that someone on the Reina might be working with the rustlers?”
Lacey rose from her chair, advancing on him like a fury. “No! And what’s more, I never will. These men are loyal, and they’ve worked for us—”
“Spare me their defense, princess. Maggie already lit into me. Fletcher, now, he didn’t think I was crazy.”
He swayed where he stood, and Lacey moved without thought to brace him. “Will you go to bed and leave this be!”
Rafe locked his arms around her, inhaling the clean, sweet scent of her. “I smell like polecat.” His head dropped to her shoulder. “You take me to bed, bright eyes.”
“I’d like to take you—”
“Can’t. I’m beat. Give me a few hours and make that offer again, princess.”
“I’d like to take you by the ear and give you a good shaking,” she continued as if he hadn’t interrupted.
His lips nuzzled her neck, and he smiled. “If I wasn’t dragging, I’d do more than that to get you to open your eyes.”
She managed a half turn, slipped her arm around his waist, and led him out to the courtyard. “My eyes are open. Yours are closed.”
Western Winds Page 11