Captive Bride

by Sandi Hampton

  Abby hesitated, knowing every minute she stalled would bring her father closer. “Okay, okay. I just need a minute. I’ve got a rock in my shoe.” She stooped, lifted her skirt and pulled off her shoe. She slowly shook it. “My slippers are ruined, and so is my beautiful wedding dress.” She glanced at him. “It’s all your fault.”

  He ignored her. “I’m gonna say this only once. If you don’t want to ride tied facedown over that saddle again, you’ll mount up now.”

  She locked gazes with him. He’d hog-tie her—and enjoy doing it. She walked to her horse and grabbed the reins. Her long dress dragged around her feet. She scooped it up, exposing her bare legs, but there was no other way. After settling herself in the saddle, she stared at him. Thus far, he’d given no sign he was going to tie her hands again.

  As if reading her thoughts, he held up the rope. “You try anything, and I’ll tie you up. Compendo?”

  She nodded.

  “Good.” He pointed at the northern sky. “Storm coming. If we don’t hurry, we’re gonna get wet.”

  “Storm? There’s not a cloud in the sky.”

  He lifted his head and breathed in deeply. “It’s on the wind.” He glanced at her. “Smell it?”

  She inhaled sharply. “No.”

  “Well, mark my words. It’s coming.” He pointed toward the towering cliffs gleaming gold in the setting sun. “That way.”

  As she rode and, despite the circumstances, Abby admired the stark landscape, its harsh and wild beauty. A person felt so small amidst the majestic, towering mountains and wide open vistas. This land reached deep inside her. She much preferred this vast place to the crowded streets of New York or Philadelphia.

  In about an hour, his words proved true. Dark clouds scudded ominously across the mountain peaks. The wind blustered around them, sending the horses skittering and kicking up whirlwinds of dust that grated against her fevered skin. He reined in beside her, pulled his kerchief up over his nose and mouth, then pulled a second kerchief from his saddlebag and handed it to her. She tied it over the lower half of her face.

  He pointed at a dark shadow about halfway up the cliff. “Head in that direction.” He leaned over and slapped her horse on its rump. The animal bolted forward like it had been shot out a cannon.

  ****

  As Davy Larson followed his captive, he knew he was in for trouble. Not just from the law and Sam O’Sullivan for kidnapping his daughter, but from the feelings this black-haired beauty awakened in him. Since the first moment he’d seen Abigail riding her horse into town, long raven tresses flowing in the wind and a wide smile of pure enjoyment on her ruby lips, he’d been in love with her. From a distance. She’d never look at someone like him seriously. They lived in different worlds. That’d been four years ago, and he still felt the same.

  Even though she didn’t know his name.

  Earlier when she’d asked if she knew him, he’d found himself hoping she remembered their brief encounters that one summer. He’d been fishing in a mountain stream when she’d ridden up. She hadn’t been afraid of him one bit, just dismounted and asked if he’d had any luck. He’d even showed her how to fish with just a line, as his grandmother had taught him. She’d come back several times in the next few weeks. He remembered it like it was yesterday.

  It hurt that she didn’t.

  As they neared the cave, big fat drops of rain pelted them. In seconds, they were both drenched to the bone. Ahead, Abby hunched low over her horse’s mane. He could see her slim frame shaking from the cold. A wave of guilt washed over him. Dammit! He hadn’t expected to feel any remorse. The emotion surprised him. He hardened his heart. He’d thought about it and thought about it, and this was the only way. Take something O’Sullivan and Winston cherished, as the Irishman and slick lawyer had taken it from his father. He would have his revenge.

  A soft kick to his horse’s flanks sent the animal flying past Abby. He motioned for her to follow. He led the way up the rocky incline toward the cave. When they neared the entrance, he slid from the saddle and hit the ground on a run, digging in his heels to keep from falling. A slap of his hand sent his mount into the cave. He whirled and grabbed the reins of Abby’s horse. As the animal slowed, she toppled from the saddle and into his arms. A crack of thunder sent him scurrying into the cave.

  She weighed nothing. Her body trembled violently. Whether it was from fear or the cold, he didn’t know, but he had to get her warmed up pronto. He’d left supplies here two days ago. He sat her on a large, flat rock and hurried to fetch a blanket. He wrapped it around her shoulders. He hunched beside his old campfire and added dried twigs to the ashes. Soon, flames lit the dark cavern.

  “Stand up.” He squatted in front of her.

  “No, no, can’t.”

  He grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet. “Take your dress off.”

  His words sparked life into her. Her blue eyes darkened. “No. I won’t.”

  “You take it off, or I’ll do it for you.” He stepped closer.

  “You wouldn’t dare! My father—”

  “Isn’t here. Now take off the dress.”

  She backed up. “What are you going to do?”

  While Davy really wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until she was warmed from head to toe, and then kiss every other part of her, he merely shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’d rather lay with a she-wolf than an O’Sullivan.”

  Her eyes widened, and she lifted her chin a notch. “Why, you, you bastard!”

  She balled her hand into a fist and swung at him, but he was ready. With a low laugh, he captured her fist. “Disappointed?”

  Her blue eyes sparked blue fire, and she struggled to free her hand.

  “Of course, I guess I could reconsider if you really wanted me to.” Her face turned a deep red, and he thought she would explode any second. He leaned over until his lips hovered inches above her. “Do you want me to reconsider?”

  She said nothing, but her lips parted. The pink tip of her tongue licked her lips, sending ripples of awareness down the entire length of him. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to taste her lips, and caress every curve of her body, had wanted to for a long time, had even dreamed of it. But it would never happen. Especially after this. If he didn’t end up dead, he’d probably rot in a jail cell. Still, what was done was done. It was too late to change it. He’d made his decision, and now he had to live with it.

  First things first. He had to get her out of that wet dress and warmed up. She was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm, and her lips had turned blue. It sure wouldn’t help his case any if she caught the pneumonia and died of it. It was clear she wasn’t taking the dress off on her own.

  He grabbed the neckline and jerked it down to her waist. The sight of her bare breasts, with their rosy taut tips, sent shock waves through him, making him regret his rash action. He summoned his quickly-disappearing self control. “You’ve got two choices. Take that wet dress off now, or I’ll finish tearing it from your body. You can go back there.” He nodded toward the rear of the cavern. “You’ve got ten minutes.”

  Like a scared rabbit, she turned and ran. Davy bit back a laugh. His game had almost backfired on him. He wanted her, but he didn’t want to want her. She was O’Sullivan’s daughter. He stalked to the mouth of the cave, angry with himself that he couldn’t distance himself from his thoughts. Hopefully, he could get his errant body under control before he had to face her again.

  The rain had lessened, and the setting sun peeked out from behind the clouds, sending a rosy glow over the land. He loved this land, his home, and he’d fight to his death for it. If that was his fate, so be it.

  Chapter Two

  Abby’s hands shook as she pulled off the wet dress and frilly under-things and wrapped the blanket tightly around her. The pile of soggy satin brought sudden, unexpected tears, and she swiped a hand across her eyes. The dress had been so beautiful with its yards and yards of lace and satin and bead pearls. Her dream dress had been imported from
Paris and had cost a small fortune.

  At the entrance, her captor stood staring out into the driving rain. He’d meant it when he said he’d tear the dress from her body. Sparks of desire had flashed momentarily in his dark eyes. An answering spark had unexpectedly ignited inside her. A wave of guilt assailed her. Had she lost her mind? She had to keep her wits, play it smart and give her father time to find her.

  Why had the man kidnapped her? She didn’t know him, and as far as she knew, had never done anything to him. She’d only been home for a couple of months and had been busy planning the wedding. She’d only gone into town maybe four or five times. So why? He’d said he wanted...justice? What in tarnation did that mean?

  There was only one answer. He held a grudge against her father. Sam O’Sullivan was a wealthy man with power and influence. The governor and other wealthy ranchers had a strong voice in the area. There would always be men who hated them because they were successful. Her captor must be one of them.

  As her kidnapper turned and headed back toward the fire, Abby studied her surroundings. The cave was gigantic, with two openings, the main one and a second smaller entrance set off to the left near where he’d tethered the horses. A mule grazed on a pile of hay. He’d been thorough in his preparations.

  The faint sound of dripping water caught her attention. It sounded like it came from the back near the animals. Above, great teardrops of rocks hung from the ceiling looking like they were going to fall at any minute.

  Abby gathered her courage, took a deep breath and went to meet him. He hunkered down by the fire and poured water from a canteen into a coffeepot, then set it over the flames. Soon, the invigorating aroma of coffee filled the air. She sat opposite him, tucking the blanket around her legs, and held her hands out to the beckoning warmth. In a few minutes, he handed her a cup of the steaming liquid. She wanted to throw it at him but that would be a stupid thing to do. As she sipped the hot coffee, the feeling slowly returned to her hands and feet. With it, her bravado returned. “When are you going to tell me who you are and why you’re doing this? I don’t know you. I’ve never done anything to you.”

  He lifted his head and met her gaze. “Like I said, you’ll find out soon enough.”

  She jumped to her feet, spilling the coffee and losing her grasp on the blanket. It fell to her waist. With a gasp, she jerked it back up. “That’s right. I’ll find out real soon because my father will be here anytime.”

  “No, he won’t. The rain has washed out all our tracks. Even Silver Feather will have trouble following tracks that don’t exist.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. He knew more about her than she realized. Evidently, he’d done his homework. “Well, I’ve heard tell he can follow any tracks anywhere, even in the dark. Besides, my father will have fifty men or more combing these hills. Sooner or later, they’ll find us. You can bet on that. I’d hate to be you when they do.”

  “Maybe they’ll find us, maybe not,” he said with a shrug. “There’s hundreds of caves and tunnels up here. It’s like a rabbit warren. By then, it’ll be too late.”

  A gasp tore from her lips. Her heart beat so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “What? What do you mean?”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re the means to an end, that’s all.”

  “What...end?”

  He shoved himself to his feet.

  “Are you going to answer me?”

  “Nope.” He locked gazes with her. “You keep saying when your father comes. You never say when my fiancé finds me. Kind of strange, ain’t it?”

  His words startled her. Indeed, she’d barely thought of Philip during these terrifying hours. Why not? She stuck that thought in a corner of her mind. She’d examine it later. “Of course I know Philip will come looking for me. He is my intended. Nothing short of death would keep him away.”

  He quirked a dark eyebrow at her. “If you say so.”

  “Well, I do say so. He loves me. How dare you suggest otherwise?”

  He shrugged. “I just asked a question, that’s all. I’m hungry. I think I’ll fix some grub. What about you? You hungry?”

  She wrinkled her brow. She was starving—she hadn’t had any breakfast or lunch, but the idea of accepting his food stuck in her craw. Just then, as if in answer to his question, her stomach growled.

  He grinned at her, smirked was a better word, then walked toward the cache of supplies. “I guess that’s a yes.”

  “That’s a no. I don’t want anything from you—except my freedom,” she yelled at his retreating back.

  She sank down on her seat and considered what he’d said. Why hadn’t she thought about Philip? The man she loved? Didn’t she? For the first time since she said yes to his marriage proposal, doubts assailed her. Was Philip her choice? Or her father’s? Her stomach tightened into knots.

  As her captor swaggered across the floor, her gaze followed him. With a predatory grace, he picked his way soundlessly across the rocky ground, probably unaware that he did so. He took his hat off, then tossed it aside. Dark hair fell to his shoulders. He tugged his shirt over his head, and his muscular torso gleamed bronze in the falling light. A ripple of awareness washed over here. She cursed herself for a fool. How could she be attracted to a man who kidnapped her? Somewhere, between here and home, she’d gone loco. Her brains were probably scattered over half of west Texas.

  He donned another shirt, one of deep blue, then jammed his hat back on. He gathered up a couple of sacks, returned to the fire and hung his wet shirt on a rock to dry. His hat followed. As he cooked bacon and warmed a can of beans, she studied him. Dark black hair fell over his brow and brushed his collar. His jaw looked to be made of granite. While he was tall and rangy, his wide shoulders filled the shirt. His trim waist showed no hint of fat. His legs were long, his thighs muscular. Instead of boots, he wore moccasins laced with leather thongs that came to his knees. A knife in a beaded sheath hung from his belt.

  “So how long have you been planning this?” She nodded toward his supplies. “Looks like you’ve got plenty of grub, blankets, and firewood. Why, you’ve even got oats for the horses and a pack mule. Looks like enough for several weeks.”

  “I like to plan ahead.” He took a sip of coffee and stared off into the distance.

  “Do you live in this cave?”

  He glanced at her, his dark eyebrows drawing together. “No, I don’t live here, but sometimes when I come up here hunting, I camp here. It’s warm…and dry.”

  She waved a hand at the expansive cave. “It’s big enough for a hundred people.”

  “A long time ago, a whole tribe of Indians lived here. It’s said their spirits still dwell in the air, in the rocks. In fact, on the back wall there’re some ancient drawings and pieces of pottery.”

  “That’s nice, but you didn’t answer me. How long have you been planning this?”

  He shrugged. “A while.”

  “How did you know I was home?”

  He barked out a harsh laugh that grated on her nerves. “Everybody in town knows what goes on with the O’Sullivans. You’re our star citizens. Just ask anyone. Besides, I was in town the day you got off the train.”

  “I didn’t see you there.”

  “People like you never see people like me.” His voice was soft but had a steely undertone.

  “What does that mean? People like me?” Her mouth drooped into a frown.

  “Just what I said. When you look down your nose, you never see clearly.” He leaned over, grabbed a piece of wood and tossed it on the fire. It crackled and hissed in the night air. Orange cinders flew upward.

  “Why, of all the nerve. Are you saying that I’m...a...snob?”

  He quirked a dark eyebrow at her.

  She rose to her feet. “I am not a snob. You’re a, you’re a—”

  “A what?”

  She stomped her foot. “You’re a-a...kidnapper.”

  He burst out laughing. “Well, you’ve got me there.
Guilty as charged.”

  His laugh was infectious. A smile played at the corners of her lips. She pursed her lips and told herself not to be an idiot. This man had kidnapped her, yet here she was talking to him like they were old friends. She had to be mad, mad, mad. “It’s not funny. You won’t be laughing when they catch up with you. I’ll be the one laughing.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “You said you saw me get off the train. Does that mean you live in Dry Springs?”

  “That’s what it means.” He forked a few strips of bacon onto a plate, then ladled some beans onto it. With an exaggerated bow, he held it out to her. “You sure you don’t want to change your mind?”

  Even though she wanted to pick up the plate and throw it in his face, she grabbed it and a fork. “I’m only eating your food to keep my strength up for when I escape.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. You wouldn’t get a mile.”

  “Don’t underestimate me, amigo.” She wagged her finger at him. “I was raised out here. I’m not helpless.”

  He barked out a laugh. “While you might have been ‘raised out here,’ you weren’t raised in the desert. The desert will eat you up and spit you out. It won’t care that your name is O’Sullivan.”

  Abby couldn’t argue. While she knew she wasn’t capable of surviving out there alone and on foot, maybe, just maybe, with a horse, she could find her way home. She had to appear resigned to her fate to keep him off guard and wait for her chance. She slumped her shoulders and blew out a long sigh. Something like—compassion?—crossed his lips. So he had a soft spot underneath that hard outer shell.

  She ate slowly, trying to formulate a plan of action, but exhaustion soon overcame her. Her eyelids grew heavy. The plate slipped from her hands and bounced off the rocky ground, clanging loudly in the stillness of the night.

  “All right. Time to turn in.”

  His words jerked her back to the moment. He stood and retrieved his bedroll, then placed it near the fire. “You can bunk down there.” He tossed her another blanket. “It gets cold at night.”

  “Thanks.” She threw up her hands. “Ohmigod, why am I thanking you? It’s your fault I’m here, cold and wet...and scared.”