He shot Dunham a glance. The Texan had actually hesitated.
“Search it.”
With a nod of resignation, Dunham delved into the bag, probing the satchel as gingerly as a man inspecting a rattler’s den.
“Nothing here.”
“Good. We don’t need any more trouble.”
Dunham handed their prisoner her traveling bag. Emma blinked back the moisture in her eyes. A look of defiance replaced the tears she’d displayed with such a keen sense of timing. Cole clamped a hand over her wrist. He didn’t feel like having to chase her down. Not that she’d get far in those cumbersome layers that constituted her skirts, but he sure as hell didn’t put it past her to try.
Dunham plowed a hand through his shaggy hair. “No such thing as a simple job, huh?”
“Nope.”
Dunham shot Emma a glance beneath hooded lids. Jesus, the man wasn’t being taken in by the innocent look she affected so skillfully, was he? Surely he wasn’t that green.
“So, what now?” His partner’s slow drawl stretched out the words.
Cole took Emma by the waist and lifted her onto his mount, then swung himself up behind her.
"We go to our back up plan."
Dunham lowered his voice. “You mean the one you’re pulling out of your rear end?”
“Yep.”
* * *
Isolation.
The word drummed in Emma’s head. The hideaway was nestled deep in the forest. No rescuers would track them down in this godforsaken place. She was at the mercy of her captors.
Situated in a small clearing surrounded by dense woods, the rustic pine cabin that would serve as their shelter might have been a sanctuary under different circumstances. A creek lapped against water-smoothed stones, immersing the cottage in sounds of tranquility, while a doe nibbled its evening meal on a nearby hill. But Emma’s unbarred prison produced no feelings of serenity. Her heels clicked rhythmically on the bare wood floor as she paced with the intensity of a caged tigress.
She was a prisoner in this quiet, lonely place, but she refused to lose hope. She would find a way to escape.
The repetitive sound of an ax striking wood drew her attention to the clearing beyond the cabin. She marched out to confront her captor.
The dark haired gunman shot her a glance. “Is there a problem, Miss Davenport?”
“The very fact that I am here, addressing you at this moment, is a problem.”
He lifted the ax. The blade landed with a crack against the wood. “Hell of an inconvenience, ain’t it?”
“Inconvenience is quite a mild term to describe the situation you’ve created.”
“Is that so?”
“Your attitude is most infuriating, sir.” She wove her fingers into a tension-filled knot. “I doubt you’ll be so cavalier when you’re dragged away in chains.”
“All you need to do is make yourself comfortable and let the time pass. You can worry about my chains later.”
“And when precisely will later be? How long do you plan to keep me here?”
He lifted the ax again. Corded muscles bunched under his shirt. He’d rolled up his sleeves, exposing the crude, blood-soaked bandage around the wound in his upper arm. The blade swung cleanly into a log, splitting it in two. “As long as it takes.”
He propped the blade on the stump he used as a chopping block and leaned on the handle. His upper body was lean and broad-shouldered with tightly compacted muscles and not an ounce of extra flesh. The recollection of whipcord strong arms holding her against his chest invaded her thoughts. Struggling to ignore a sudden flush of heat, she swallowed hard and forced the memory of his touch from her mind.
He regarded her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. His amber eyes heated as she met his gaze. A current shot through her, igniting a warmth she had no desire or right to feel.
He was a handsome man, no denying that truth. His features were a bit too ruggedly etched to meet a classical standard of male perfection, but the planes of his face were strong, and the curve of his mouth tempted some deep-seated part of her femininity she wasn’t sure she wanted to acknowledge. Dark stubble shaded a carved jaw, lending him the look of a pirate banished from the sea.
The notion struck her with a curious intensity. She clenched her hands against the urge to rasp her fingertips over the sable bristle. Ridiculous. This man would destroy her plans and leave her life in shreds. He wasn’t some romantic hero in one of the sensation novels she was careful to keep out of her father’s sight.
He was a dangerous man. Nothing more.
Emma collected her thoughts. Surely she could reason with her captor, even if her pulse had sped up and he eyed her as though he knew it.
“Sir—” The word hovered on her tongue. This man did not deserve the respect inherent in that title. “Mister—I presume you have a name.”
“Yep.” The ax swung again and landed with a chop.
“But you’re not offering up that bit of information.”
“Nope.”
Oooh, he was an infuriating man. Very well, she’d give him a name. A name that summed up his character. Captain Bastard. Wouldn’t Aunt Elizabeth have a conniption if she ever discovered Emma had conjured up such a moniker? Pity the name didn’t fit. The exasperating, taciturn scoundrel bore no resemblance to a buccaneer. Besides, she couldn’t quite picture him making anyone walk the plank. Villain. No, the word brought to mind cruelty, and she’d seen no evidence of that. But he was dangerous, nonetheless. A man who’d stop at nothing to achieve his aims.
Desperado.
Yes, that was it. Quite fitting, really.
She planted her hands on her hips in an attempt to lend herself an air of authority. Given the sly look on his face, she’d failed miserably. Still, she wouldn’t let on that he’d managed to fluster her with a mere quirk of his lips.
“While I can appreciate your desire to remain mysterious, I’ve no doubt you’ve worked this all out. You must tell me how long—”
“Ma’am, you’ve no need to worry your pretty head.” The fair-haired outlaw sauntered toward them. A black cavalry hat shadowed his expression, but his manner was as casual as a gentleman who’d ventured into the country for a Sunday picnic. “We’re not lookin’ to keep you here for any longer than it takes.”
Pretty head? With his long, lean build and eyes as blue as a summer sky, he’d no doubt put that slow, easy drawl to use on many an unwary belle. On the train, he’d demonstrated he was as menacing with a gun as his flint-edged partner, but he coated his words with a thick layer of honey. So very charming…and so very mistaken if he thought his courtly manner would win her acceptance of this most unacceptable turn of events. She’d show Mr. Charming that a senator’s daughter knew full well how to dismiss sugar-sweet words just as she’d step around syrup-drenched horse manure.
“Sir, I’ve no intention of pretending this is anything other than what it is—an abduction for some nefarious purpose. It’s not too late to save both your sorry necks. I have no taste for retribution. All I wish—”
“You’re going to worry yourself into a megrim.” A smile curved his lips, and tiny crinkles etched around eyes that somehow seemed even bluer. “In a day or two, you’ll be on your way home. You have my word.”
Home. The word rang in her ears, as discordant as a nail dragged against a slate.
“If you value your life, you’ll take me to the nearest train station so I might resume my journey and put whatever scheme you’ve concocted out of your mind.”
“Miss Davenport, it’s mighty considerate of you to worry over us, but there’s no need.” He slanted his partner a glance. “Nice back up plan, by the way. I should’ve known.”
Worry over us? Had the man been in the sun too long? An image of her captors clasped in irons, deep in the bowels of some dank medieval dungeon flickered in her thoughts. She’d add a few rattlers and a ravenous wolf or two for good measure and leave these men to the fate they so justly deserved.
/>
These men were arrogant. Appealing to their sense of self-preservation was pointless. Mr. Charming had deflected her warnings as though she’d admonished a child to avoid eating too many sweets lest he’d get a stomach ache.
This called for a more direct approach. “My father won’t pay you, but my fiancé will. Quite handsomely. Take me to a westbound train. Ride with me to St. Louis. I’ll say you’ve served as my escorts.”
His brows peaked into a dubious inverted vee. And then he laughed, a quiet, rueful sound. “Well, ma’am, that’s about the most enticin’ proposition we’ve heard in a long time. Shame we can’t accept your invitation.”
Desperado’s expression showed no such amusement. “We don’t do business with men who have fewer scruples than we do.”
Mr. Charming scrubbed his palm against his jaw as if it ached. “Miss Davenport, I suggest you make the best of it. There’s fresh air, quiet, and the sound of this stream makes me want to take a nap.” He met his partner’s glare. “Not that there’s any time for relaxation.”
“See to Miss Davenport’s accommodations for the night,” Desperado said. “Have you taken stock of our rations?”
“We’ve got enough for two days.” Mr. Charming slanted Emma a glance. “Three, maybe. I’ll bet you eat like a bird, Miss Davenport.”
“I don’t care if she eats like a bison.” The whoosh of an ax followed by the strike of the blade against wood served as punctuation. “You’ll need to go for provisions and make contact with our liaison.”
“He’s probably getting edgy waiting for us.”
Desperado shrugged. “He can wait. It’s too risky to take off tonight. Leave in the morning.”
His partner nodded. “For now, I’ll get supper goin’.” He tipped his hat in Emma’s direction as he took off toward the cabin. “I’ll see to your comfort. You’ve my word as a gentleman.”
She gave him a little huff and planted her fists on her hips, if only to keep from wringing her hands in frustration. Drat this man with his talk of honoring his word. He was a common thug. A lout who preyed on women.
“My reputation will be ruined. I hope you know you’ve shredded my good name.”
The ax blade tore through another hunk of wood. “You should have thought of that before you left Washington without a proper chaperone. If you’d brought her along, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
“How…how do you know about my chaperone?”
Desperado placed another log on the chopping block. “It’s my job to know.” The axe swung up in an arc, cleaving the wood in two. “A woman like you shouldn’t try to keep secrets.”
Something in his tone—something she couldn’t name but could feel with every ounce of her being—cut through her like a dull knife. The man didn’t even try to hide his contempt. Oh, this was outrageous. A man who’d abducted her with the casual skill of an experienced villain, and he dared to speak to her as though she was a tarnished Jezebel.
Fury heated her blood, but a dawning realization turned it cold.
What if this man wasn’t an outlaw seeking a ransom?
What if this man was a spy? Or a Rebel agent, using her as a pawn to coerce her father’s cooperation in some sinister scheme?
Cold dread slithered the length of her spine. Had she fallen into a snare from which there’d be no escape? Her skin peppered with tiny bumps that had nothing to do with the sudden chill in the air.
Bile rose to the back of her throat. She pressed her fingers to her mouth, as if that would rid her of the foul taste. She forced herself to meet his eyes. The golden brown hues seemed darker now. Or was that another trick of her imagination?
Deep lines etched his forehead. He raked his fingers through chocolate strands laced with gold. Had he realized he’d said too much? “In any case, your time here will be short. You have my word.”
“Your word means nothing to me. You are not a man of honor. An honorable man would not manhandle a woman.”
“Manhandle?”
“Manhandle,” she repeated precisely. “You carried me off the train like a sack of flour.”
The darkness in his expression faded, only to be replaced with a wicked grin. “I have to admit, I enjoyed that.”
“I’m not surprised. A brute like you must take great pleasure in frightening a helpless woman.”
“You’re as helpless as a wildcat.” No contempt this time. Only a gruff note to his voice that sounded strangely like admiration.
“Quite a peculiar thing to say to a woman who is now your prisoner.”
He shrugged. “I know what I’m dealing with. I had to get you off the train before you had a chance to inspire one of those poor saps to become your champion.”
“You couldn’t risk someone ruining your scheme,” she countered.
In one long stride, he closed the space between them. “My plan didn’t involve killing anyone on that train. I couldn’t chance some cow-brained hero forcing my hand.”
Her heart raced. Calloused fingers traced a path from her cheek to her throat. He smelled of leather and whiskey and soap, utterly male and not the least bit unpleasant.
She twisted away from his touch. “Why should I believe anything you say?”
“Why would I lie to you? You’re here and you’re not going anywhere until I say so, whether you like it or not.”
Emma bristled at his words. “You are a scoundrel, a heartless desperado. Have you given no thought to how uncouth this is?”
“Can’t say it crossed my mind. But now that you mention it—”
“The scandal will destroy my prospects.”
He gave his head a slow shake. “That’s the least of your worries now.”
“What—what do you mean?” She knew her eyes had gone as wide as saucers at the menacing implication of his words. Pulse pounding in her ears, she took a step back, then another.
He regarded her thoughtfully. “You think I intend to take liberties with you?”
She shook her head, though she knew her eyes betrayed her fear.
His hand rubbed his jaw, still watching her. “Come to think of it, if I wanted to have my way with you, all those buttons on that frilly blouse you’re wearing wouldn’t slow me down much.”
Heat flooded over her from her scalp to the tips of her toes. The way he looked at her conjured emotions far more dangerous than fear.
“You shouldn’t speak of such things. It’s indecent.”
A slow smile spread over his face. “No, just honest.” He reached for her, tipping up her chin, his touch both commanding and gentle. “Listen to me, Miss Davenport. I won’t waste my time saying this again. You’re a pretty girl. A very pretty girl. No doubt about it. But hauling you off a train would be too much damn trouble just to get a woman.”
The amusement in his eyes shattered the icy cloak of fear that had settled over her. The barbarian actually had the gall to find humor in her predicament. Oh, she’d offer him a sound verbal thrashing.
If only she could find the words.
The tempo of her breaths accelerated. He watched her, seeming to anticipate the rebuke he was due. He was truly a villain of the worst kind.
“In all my days, no one has ever spoken to me in such a manner. You are coarse and vile and—”
“A desperado who makes off with women for his own sinister purposes. But those purposes have nothing to do with your sweet face or your tiny waist or that ridiculous little hat you were wearing at the train station. I’ve never needed to resort to kidnapping to warm my bed.”
“Well, I’ve never…never endured such callous treatment.”
He scraped his hand over his jaw, as if in deep thought. “You sound disappointed. Were you hoping I’d intended to—”
“Oh, good heavens! You’ve gone mad. Or were you kicked by a horse? To even think—”
He closed the space between them. “You’re trembling. With anticipation?”
Emma folded her arms at the waist and stiffened her spine. “The ai
r has grown cool.”
“Liar.” His voice lowered to a husky rasp. “You’ve no need to worry. Innocent women are too much trouble.”
Her brows shot up with a will of their own. “Too much trouble?”
He nodded solemnly. “Far too much trouble.”
Emma nibbled her lower lip as she took his meaning. She glared at him beneath her lashes and schooled her features to reveal as little of her emotions as possible. “Very well, then. Why have you brought me here?”
“I suspect you already have a pretty good idea.”
“How did you find out I would be on that train? No one knew of my intention to leave.”
He met her eyes. “Obviously, that wasn’t the case. Are you always this inquisitive?”
“Only when I’ve been imprisoned by an outlaw.”
The back of her neck tingled as his mouth quirked into a smile. “You’re free to move about. I have not imprisoned you. Yet. But you’re giving me ideas. I could tie you up and leave you in the cabin. You’d be a lot less trouble.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Don’t tempt me. The notion is sounding better by the minute.”
She allowed a long moment to pass in silence. His features displayed no trace of anger, only a hint of amusement.
“If it’s money you want, the man I’m going to marry will compensate you handsomely for my return.”
“You will be released,” he said. “The only question is when.”
“Waiting for my father to pay a ransom will end in disaster. He will ensure you are both hanged. And he will never forgive me.”
“Forgive you?”
Folding her hands into a knot, Emma retreated a step. “My father has forbidden my marriage.”
His eyes concealed any trace of emotion. “You can always run away again.”
Stifling the angry words stomping about on the tip of her tongue, she ground her heel into the dirt. “I only hope you live long enough to enjoy whatever ransom you receive.”
His mouth crooked at one corner. “Surely you aren’t concerned for two wicked desperados.”
Her fingers went to her locket, toying with the chain as she searched for the right words. There had to be a way to convince him to abandon his scheme.
Secrets, Spies & Sweet Little Lies (Secrets & Spies) Page 3