Kate's Outlaw (Steam! Romance and Rails)

by E. E. Burke

  He helped her down, and frowned with concern. She was flushed and sweaty. Why hadn't she said something sooner? "You need water. Go get some."

  Redbird wobbled over to the edge of the creek and sank to her knees. Once he was satisfied she was following his instructions, he turned his attention to the horse, but kept throwing worried glances over his shoulder.

  After getting some water, she hung her head and didn’t move from that spot. He’d better go check on her.

  Jake knelt in the grass beside her. He reached over and cupped her cheek. Her face still looked red even though she’d been wearing his hat. Was that normal for a fair-skinned woman? He decided it wasn’t.

  “Take off your jacket.”

  At her look of alarm, he softened his voice.

  "You're getting too hot.”

  She eyed him doubtfully, but removed the jacket nonetheless. Withdrawing a dainty handkerchief from her sleeve, she dabbed her face. That wouldn’t do much good.

  Jake dunked his bandana in the creek. He took hold of her arm and turned her towards him so he could squeeze water over her forehead and reddened cheeks.

  She tried to pull away. He held tight, but this time took care not to bruise her. He didn't want to scare her, but the way she looked was scaring him.

  "You'll get sick, if we don’t get you cooled off.” He flipped open the top three buttons of her high-collared shirt, wanted to undo more, but if he started undressing her, he wouldn't be able to stop. Using the wet scarf, he bathed her throat. Beads of water dribbled down the slender column of her neck and collected in a hollow at the base. He imagined putting his lips on that spot and following his hands as he undid her remaining shirt buttons.

  Lust ripped through him with the force of a lightning bolt. He thrust the wet rag into the creek. The cold water chilled his hands but did nothing to cool the fever infecting the rest of his body.

  Redbird clutched the collar of her shirt and scooted back. Was she worried he would molest her? Only a fool wouldn't be. By now, she had to be aware of her effect on him.

  "Shouldn’t we leave?” She darted an anxious glance at the woods. "In case your partner shows up."

  No sense denying what she’d already figured out. "He's at least half a day behind."

  "Still…" Her brow knitted.

  Charley wasn’t the only man she feared. And her glances at the trees meant she was still thinking about running. She’d be in more danger getting lost in the woods than remaining his captive, despite what she thought. He had to ease her fears, or he’d be chasing after her every time they stopped.

  Jake rested his hands on his knees and took what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "Don’t be afraid. I swear I’ll keep you safe, Redbird."

  Chapter 3

  "Redbird?" Kate’s hand flew to her hair. Lord knows, it’d been compared to worse than a cardinal's bright coloring, but the jest hurt more because it reminded her that all men, even those regarded as savages, found her unattractive.

  She smoothed the messy curls and retreated into her only defense—self-deprecating humor. "You shouldn't insult the poor bird. It might take offense."

  The devilishly handsome Indian regarded her with that searching look she found so disconcerting. "Redbird is the daughter of the sun.”

  What was he talking about, an Indian story?

  “Did she look like me?” That seemed unlikely.

  He stared at the top of Kate’s head. “The legend doesn’t say what Redbird looked like, but I always imagined she had hair like flames and eyes as blue as the sky vault."

  He hadn't used the word beautiful, but the way he described Redbird made her feel that way. Her hand drifted up to her hair again. Had it changed since she’d last seen it? "You…you meant it as compliment?"

  "It wasn't an insult.” His gold-flecked eyes burned with a look she didn’t often get from men, especially handsome ones.

  She tore her gaze away. "I…I believe I need another drink."

  Bending over the gurgling stream, she cupped a handful of water. Why had he stopped at this secluded glen? They did need rest, the horse included, but that wasn't all he had in mind if those heated looks were any indication. He hadn’t threatened her, and in fact acted like he wanted to help. But she didn’t trust he was taking her somewhere safe. After all, lying and cheating were natural as breathing to outlaws.

  Was his plan to seduce her? Why else would he be making up names and telling her pretty stories? Perhaps he didn’t enjoy rape and wanted a willing partner. He might even view it as a conquest. After all, how many Indian outlaws, even handsome ones, could claim they'd bedded a rich white woman?

  Kate threw a frantic glance at his horse, which was tied up and grazing a few paces away. He’d catch her before she could reach it.

  "Are you feeling better?" He sounded concerned, but that might be a ruse to gain her trust so she’d be more easily manipulated.

  "Just thirsty." She studied him from the side of her eye. The gun at his side, she could slip it out of the holster if he let down his guard. But how could she get him to do that?

  Her heart thudded against her breastbone. What if she acted as though she wanted to be seduced? Then, when he was distracted, she could steal his weapon and take his horse.

  No, she couldn’t do it.

  Yes, she could if her life depended on it.

  What if he tried to overpower her? Could she shoot him?

  She’d make him believe she would. Now wasn’t the time for squeamishness. She had to be bold. Calculating. Sly.

  Steeling her nerves, she looked at him through her lashes as she'd seen debutantes do when they wanted to bring a man to their side.

  He didn’t move.

  Was she doing this right? She’d never felt comfortable flirting and disliked being coy. But right now she was desperate enough to try anything.

  "So, you…you think my hair is pretty?" She tried not to grimace at how ridiculous that sounded.

  He cocked his head. Perhaps he thought she was suffering from heatstroke.

  Taking a deep breath to relieve her jitters, she removed the pins from her hair and unwound what was left of the knot. Using her fingers, she combed a mass of curly locks over her shoulder, but kept her eyes averted so he wouldn't see what a basket of nerves she'd become.

  "Would you…like to touch it?" Her heart thrummed, the sound reverberating in her ears. Was he remembering how she'd tricked him the last time? He didn't strike her as stupid. This would never work if she didn't convince him of her interest. “I don’t mind.”

  His fingers brushed hers. Desire crackled through her with lightning swiftness.

  She gasped, her gaze jumping to his face. Thank heavens he was staring at her hair or he’d have seen her alarm and realized she was acting.

  He rubbed a bright curl between his fingers, his expression rapt. “Feels like lamb’s wool.”

  That was one comparison she’d never heard. “Lamb’s wool?”

  His eyes warmed to the color of old gold. “Wool from the first shearing is the softest.”

  Delight warmed her skin. Another compliment, and so utterly unique it seemed sincere. Perhaps it was. She stroked her hair in invitation, her hands shaking as his gaze intensified. "What else had you wondered?"

  The muscles in his face tightened. Without warning, he fisted a handful of her hair and jerked her to him. With his other hand, he tilted her face, taking her mouth in a crushing kiss. His firm lips ground against hers, insistent, demanding.

  Shock held her immobile. What in heaven’s name did she do now? The kisses she’d received could be counted on one hand, and those were more like pecks.

  He drew back for the space of a heartbeat and his gaze searched her face, scorching it. He’d realized she had no clue about what she was doing. Had he also deduced her motive?

  His arms went around her, and then he bent his head and began brushing his lips over hers until they softened, parted. His tongue flicked over the tender flesh, the light touc
h sending shivers up her spine. Her breath stalled in her lungs as he kept up the gentle assault, licking, nipping, soothing. Heavens, he wasn’t just kissing her. He was seducing her mouth.

  She released a sigh, and he drew it in as if he wanted to capture her very breath, like one of those night creatures she’d read about in Penny Dreadfuls. Using his tongue, he explored and enticed. She trembled from the strange caress, not revolted, as she might’ve expected, but excited and eager to discover more.

  Her acceptance of his kiss seemed to embolden him. He spanned her waist with his hands as if measuring her for a corset, and his thumbs stroked the underside of her breasts. The intimate touch made them ache, made her want…what, for him to touch them?

  No. She wanted to steal his gun, and had invited this outrageous intimacy so she could escape. How would she know the moment he became unguarded? If only she were more knowledgeable about men. As it was, she'd have to trust her instincts.

  She clung to him as he taught her the intricacies of kissing, the rhythm, akin to dancing or fencing, a series of parries and thrusts. A charged current leapt between them like electricity dancing between two magnets. She knew she ought to push him away, but she couldn't. Her body answered only to this intense attraction.

  He broke the kiss, gasping. Had he forgotten to breathe, as well? Her mind reeled from a lack of oxygen. Before she regained her wits, he trailed soft kisses across her cheek, whispering words she didn’t understand. Whatever the meaning, she sensed he was praising her.

  Sunlight danced in the leaves above her head and the creek sang near her feet. It was all part of the magic spell he wove, and she didn’t want it to end. She let her head drop back as his lips burned down her neck. His touch awakened every nerve, stirring her from what seemed to have been an eternal sleep. Waiting…waiting…for the kiss that would bring her to life.

  He captured her face in his hands, covering her mouth with his as he pressed her down onto the soft grass. The blades felt cool in comparison to her fevered skin. She drank his kisses, intoxicating as her father’s best brandy. Just a taste made her insides melt and sent warmth rushing through her veins.

  Sliding her fingers through his hair, she brought him closer. He stretched out on top of her with a groan. She ought to be scared witless, yet she felt strangely in control. He’d succumbed to her, not the other way around. Her breathing quickened as she ran her hands over his shirt, feeling the play of muscles in his shoulders and back. He was made so different from her, and yet they seemed perfectly fitted.

  "Redbird," he murmured.

  Kate’s heart preened at the moniker, which conjured the image of a fiery-haired goddess. She loved the way he said it in his southwestern drawl tinged with a hint of foreignness.

  He cupped her breast and gently squeezed. Not for the first time was she glad she eschewed corsets. Only her shirt and camisole stood between them, although even that seemed like two layers too many. His thumb found her nipple and he caressed it until it stiffened.

  She arched her back as tendrils of pure pleasure snaked through her. How could something so wicked feel so good?

  He continued to stroke and play with her breasts until she was gasping for air. Never had she given a man the kind of liberties she was giving him. But then, no man had given her this kind of pleasure. Some part of her—the irrational, rebellious part—wanted to experience it. His fingers went to the buttons on her shirt. Now he’d undress her, then she would feel his hands on her bare skin, feel his kisses…

  Yearning became an insistent ache. Desire swelled like waves whipped up by a strong wind, tossing her to and fro. Her whole body shook with uncontrollable tremors.

  Passion. It was exhilarating. Overpowering. Terrifying.

  What had made her think she could bend such a powerful force to her will? If she didn’t stop him, she was in danger of being swept out to sea.

  Desperate, she grabbed for his gun.

  ###

  Jake reacted instinctively. He clamped his hand over hers the same moment she wrapped her fingers around the handle of his revolver. Surprise swept away the sensual haze. By Thunder, she'd almost done it again, not with a rock this time, but with his gun.

  Furious, he wrenched her fingers off the weapon, pinned her hands to the ground, and brought his face to within an inch of hers. "Is this how you get what you want?" he snarled.

  Her eyes grew round, the black centers crowding out the blue like storm clouds covering the sky. She looked as horrified as poor Redbird of the legend must’ve been when that poisonous snake showed up at her door.

  Jake released her and jerked to his knees, muttering. Crazy. He had to be. That was the only explanation for why he'd confuse desperate sex with desire. He’d never wanted a woman like he wanted this one, and the way she'd responded to him had convinced him she felt the same way. But she felt nothing—except the need to escape. That’s why she’d lured him into touching her and kissing her, so she could steal his weapon.

  His face burned as he got to his feet. How could he be so stupid? Damn it, he knew better and he'd still fallen for her tricks. Maybe he’d gotten confused because he associated her with some fantasy woman from his dreams. He’d better get his head out of the clouds before she shot it off. Daring her with his eyes, he offered his revolver. "You want this? Come get it."

  She struggled to a sitting position, gripped her shirt together. He’d managed to open it to the waistband of her skirt. If she hadn’t lunged for his gun, he would’ve had his hands on her breasts. For a second, he was tempted to toss aside the revolver and take up where they’d left off.

  Her chin lifted in a show of bravery, but quivering lips spoiled the effect. "Stop taunting me. You got what you wanted."

  “You have no idea what a man wants if you think that,” he ground out. Did she realize how close he’d come to losing control? His body throbbed with unsatisfied need. "Button your shirt.”

  Her face flamed, making her pale, freckled skin appear blotchy. Humiliation did nothing for her looks. "I will…if you give me some privacy.”

  He snorted. “You want me to turn my back so you can run? My horse doesn't like strangers. Keep that in mind before you try to steal him."

  Jake turned around. If she wanted, he’d give her the chance to be foolish. He threw a worried glance over his shoulder to make sure she didn't approach the high-strung stallion. If Thundercloud got spooked and kicked out, she could be injured—or killed.

  But she wasn’t going for the horse. Instead, she presented her back while she put on her jacket, fastening the buttons to her chin. He suspected she’d expire from the heat before she took it off again.

  Feeling antsy, he scanned the quiet woods. It was bad enough he’d fallen for her tricks, but the longer they tarried, the greater the chance of Charley catching up. His eyes drifted back to the woman, although he’d never really lost sight of her. If she’d let him, he would’ve gorged his senses on her. Kissing her, touching her, tasting her. She was so beautiful, his Redbird.

  He gritted his teeth. She wasn't his anything.

  Needing distance, he stalked after his horse. The paint walked over as Jake approached and he rubbed the velvety nose. "Good boy."

  Jake winced. His own words mocked him. He'd behaved worse than a stallion after a mare in heat. If Redbird hadn’t lunged for the gun, he would’ve taken her right there on the grass. And after he'd sworn she would be safe with him. He owed her an apology. Honestly, he owed her more than that, but he could never repay the debt. He couldn't even give her what she wanted—her freedom.

  He led his horse around in front of her, keeping his expression hard. He’d tried kindness and she’d taken advantage, so now he’d have to be cruel. He whipped out the bandana. “Give me your hands.”

  Tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. She blinked fast, but they came faster than she could get rid of them. Her distress twisted the knife in his chest. He reached for her, half hoping she’d slap him. She didn't. She didn't even fight as
he folded her against his chest.

  Clinging to him, she wept. Wept piteously. Not once since they'd taken her had she cried, but at last it seemed he’d broken her like one might break the spirit of a treasured mare. It had to be the worst crime he'd ever committed.

  "Shh." He stroked the tangled curls. She needed a brush. He’d find one after they reached his aunt's house, find whatever he could to ease her discomfort. Wouldn't make her feel any better about being his captive, but at least she wouldn't feel worse. “It’s all right. I won’t tie you up. Just cooperate. I meant what I said about keeping you safe.”

  She twisted out of his arms. Using the dainty handkerchief, she wiped her face and blew her nose. Her skirts were stained with dirt and grass, and her jacket sleeve torn from some bramble or branch they'd scraped past. He wished he could buy her new clothes to replace the ones he'd ruined, but the best he could do was borrow something clean for her to wear once they'd reached their destination.

  With a sniff, she drew up straight as a soldier. "Is Charley coming after us, or were you just using that as an excuse to gain my trust, so you could…"

  So he could what? Toss up her skirts? Did she really believe that's why he'd been driving his horse for nearly the whole day? He sighed and shook his head. "Will it make you feel better if I assure you he’s coming after us?"

  "No."

  “Then I won’t.” He drew the reins over the horse's head. "Let's go, Redbird."

  Her eyes flashed. "Don’t call me that. Don't ever call me that again."

  She had a point. He had no right to name her.

  "What should I call you?" He laced his fingers and she placed her foot in his hands, grasping the saddle horn as he hoisted her up.

  "You haven't seen fit to give me your name, so I shan't give you mine."

  Again, she had a point. If he wanted to learn her secret, he'd have to offer one in exchange.