Cherished (32 page)

Her chin lifted, giving her delicate face a
proud tilt. “I would if I had to.”

“You probably couldn’t hit a log cabin if you
put the muzzle up against the logs.”

“Then take me with you.”

Cole released her with a groan, knowing he
would shake her until her teeth rattled if he didn’t step back that
instant. “I already told you. I’ve got business that doesn’t
include you. Stay inside. Promise you will and maybe I’ll bring you
back a surprise.”

“I can’t make any promises today either!” she
shot back, and congratulated herself when his eyes narrowed.

“This kind of promise you can and will make
to me. Or do I have to hog-tie you and keep you inside that
way?”

He’d do it, too
, she thought, fury
making her clench her fingers into fists. He talked to her as if
she were a child! Tipping her head to one side, Juliana regarded
him coldly. “What kind of surprise?” she asked with all the dignity
she could muster.

But he wouldn’t tell her.

“Promise, angel.”

“Oh, very well.” Sliding her hands behind her
back, she crossed her fingers and promised.

“Kiss me good-bye?” she asked sweetly, her
anger with him fading as she recognized the grim concern on his
face. His eyes looked shadowed and dark in the bright glory of the
summer’s day. His anxiety on her behalf touched her then, filling
her with shame at her dishonesty, and with a rich sense of wonder.
Did he care about her? Truly? Did he merely want to protect her as
he might any woman who had fallen into his bed, and might again—or
was it something more, something like what she felt whenever he was
within ten feet of her.

He didn’t appear to be afflicted with
madness, which she was certain was her own fate. He had acted
downright cold and sane and rational this morning, hadn’t he?

But last night ...

When he touched her again, his grip was
gentle. The kiss was not.

“Behave yourself—if you can,” he ordered.
“Don’t forget where you are. This isn’t St. Louis.”

Wise words, but she scarcely heard them. Her
senses were swimming from the kiss, from the warm, intoxicating
taste of his mouth on hers, from the way his hands moved up and
down her back when he held her. It was not the embrace of a cold
and uninterested man.

“Mmm-hmmm.” Unaware of the effect her dreamy
eyes were having on his insides, she smiled, feeling hopelessly
foolish but happy in a deliriously silly way. Maybe Cole Rawdon was
not as much a free man as he thought. Maybe she should think some
more about his reaction to her pledge this morning.

“Hurry back,” she urged, longing in her
upturned, eager face.

“I reckon I will.”

It was all Cole could do to mount Arrow and
leave her, but he had to see Joseph Wells and it couldn’t wait.

The moment he was out of sight, Juliana
closed the cabin door and strolled off, searching for a cool
stream, a long bath, and the tattered shreds of her emotions.

* * *

He loves me. He loves me not. He loves
me. He ...

The delicate petals of the daisy lay like a
spattering of white jewels in Juliana’s lap as she concentrated
intently on her task.

He loves me not.

She frowned, holding the naked flower between
her fingers. No more petals. The answer was there for her to see.
He loves me not.

She brushed the petals from her lap and stood
up, biting her lip. The afternoon sun had swept far into the
western sky. The air, laced with pine, was becoming cooler. Where
had the day gone?

She had enjoyed the solitude and freedom.
Here, by the mossy edge of this lovely, crystal-blue stream, with
junipers overhead to shade her from the sun, she had bathed naked
and frolicked in the cool waters. She had sprawled on the grass,
reveling in the silken caress of the meadow flowers on her bare
skin, daydreaming about Cole and all that had passed between them
last night. Happiness washed over her. Remembering the way he had
kissed her and touched her and united his body with hers made her
quiver with a warm delight that had nothing to do with the golden
sunshine splashing down all around her. She was certain that
beneath that tough exterior, and all his protestations, despite the
horrors of his violent past, Cole Rawdon was capable of intense
tenderness—yes, of love—but the question plaguing her was whether
or not he felt love for her. It was too soon; they hadn’t known
each other very long, and most of that time they’d been enemies
trying to outwit each other. Yet her own feelings were so powerful,
rocking her whenever he was anywhere near, that she couldn’t help
wondering if he didn’t feel the same way, if the lightning current
that kept jolting her could possibly run in only one direction.
From the way he had held her and made love to her last night she
was tempted to believe that it couldn’t, that he matched her
feelings with equally strong ones of his own, that his passion was
as reckless and heartfelt and unstoppable as that which rushed over
her whenever he touched her or smiled at her or even looked at her
with those unforgettable fire-blue eyes.

But ... He loves me not.

How stupid. It was only a silly flower, a
foolish game. It didn’t mean anything. Yet she was dismayed.
Uncertainty spoiled the exquisite peace and beauty of the day.

Buttoning her shirt, and tucking it into the
oversize trousers with their makeshift rope belt, Juliana was
suddenly in a hurry to get back to the cabin. Cole had said he’d be
back by sunset. He’d be furious if he returned and found that she’d
disobeyed him, but really, she had needed the relaxation of the
bath, needed the lush beauty of Fire Mesa to enfold and soothe her
and help her sort out what had happened this morning, and it had
done just that. Twisting her hair into a knot in back of her head,
she secured it with a tortoiseshell clip that had been in her
preciously guarded money pouch with some other small pieces of
jewelry. Cole had handed it to her this morning, reminding her that
he had removed it from around her waist while she slept after
reaching the cabin, and the glint in his eyes had made her blush
down to her toes, for she remembered that last night when they made
love had not been the first time he had seen her naked.

Was that part of the reason why he had wanted
to make love to her—because he had seen her when he’d undressed her
that other time, and desire, maybe even curiosity, had caused him
to set his mind to having her? Maybe that was all he had wanted,
maybe it would never happen again, maybe he wouldn’t even come back
for her ...

But here she managed to halt the fearful
direction of her thoughts, racing like a runaway locomotive into a
tunnel of gloom.

No, Cole would never leave her when she was
in danger. He had too much sense of honor for that. As for the
reasons why he had made love to her, she would have to wait and
discover those in time, along with the secrets he kept locked in
his heart.

Time. It was growing later with each moment
that she dallied here, and Juliana, stooping to gather a fistful of
daisies for a centerpiece on the cabin table tonight, realized
she’d have to race back and start that damned stove again.

But as she stepped past a juniper tree and
headed toward the little dell that separated this part of the
valley from the cabin, she heard a sound in the brush. She
froze.

Was it an animal, a deer, perhaps? Or
something—someone—else?

Glancing around uneasily, she could see
nothing but the lilac-gray sweep of sagebrush hills, the staggering
red rock escarpment rising to a sheer cliff beside her, and the
trickling stream, its clear dancing water aglisten in the sunlight,
behind her.

All was quiet. Maybe too quiet. She put a
hand to the rock to steady herself. She had the eerie,
skin-prickling sensation that she was not alone. Her heart in her
throat, she moved forward again.

The Apache dropped down from the sheer cliff
above her with incredible grace, his moccasined feet making only a
soft scrabble in the grass.

Juliana’s scream echoed through the tall
rocks. She turned and tried to run, but he grabbed her, holding her
in muscle-corded brown arms. Fighting him, scratching, biting, she
felt herself lifted in arms far too strong to resist, carried to a
paint horse, tossed up into a saddle. Wild panic flooded over her,
closing her throat. He sprang up behind her before she could move,
and they were off, galloping like the wind itself across the stream
where she had bathed, crossing the summer-soft valley floor and
then climbing a rocky embankment, which led to an overgrown trail
that twisted and turned and led them impossibly far from the
cabin.

A sob broke from Juliana’s throat. Stark
terror had taken possession of her. So far, the Apache had made no
sound, had not spoken one word to her, not even a grunt. All the
stories she had ever heard of Indian atrocities flashed through her
brain at once, and she wondered with a sickening lurch of her
stomach if he was bringing her to a camp where there were other
braves, if they would all watch while he killed her or ... or
whatever ... if they would each take their turn torturing her.

On and on they rode, while the fading sun
burned like a bronze disc above them, and mesquite and wildflowers
whipped by. How far they had gone, even in what direction, was
impossible to tell. Juliana, in her terror, could think of nothing
but that she would never, ever see Cole again, that if he ever
found her after this Apache was finished with her, he would
doubtless find only a scattering of broken bones and bloodied
flesh.

She wondered in agonized sorrow if he would
even mourn her death or if he would simply ride on and return to
his own violent and personal business without more than a fleeting
regret.

The cabin appeared out of nowhere, a rundown
pine structure larger than Cole’s, but in far worse condition from
the outside, stuck in a slab of mountain that rose, sheer and
stark, to the sky. There was a clearing of about fifty feet around
it, with a spring behind the cabin, and a row of scattered
piñón
s alongside. But
everywhere about was desolation. Wild, beautiful, lonely
desolation. For miles she could see nothing but rocks, brush, open
mountain, and cacti.

When the Indian pulled her down from the
horse, she tried to run, but he seized her about the waist, his
black eyes slitted and intense.

Fear closed around her heart tight as a vise.
Every muscle was tense; her throat seemed to be stuffed with
flannel. Yet she screamed. Out of pure terror, she screamed. Loud
and long, the scream echoing among the rocks, bouncing off the
mountain walls, trailing through the crevices where wildflowers
poked their bright heads.

All hell broke loose.

The cabin door was flung wide and a group of
men rushed out.

“Gray Feather, what the hell ...”

“Lord, Wade, it’s
her
...”

The Apache released her, grinning. But
Juliana was no longer looking at him—she was staring dazedly at the
two men nearest her. They had stopped ten feet away, while the
others hung back, and they were staring at her as if searching for
something ... something lost or forgotten or perhaps something that
never existed at all.

Wade. Tommy. Could it be?

Her breath quick and shallow, Juliana stared
from one to the other. The taller man appeared to be in his early
twenties and had wide shoulders and light brown hair beneath a hat
of pearl gray. His eyes were a keen, piercing shade of green,
riveting in a handsome, square-jawed face that was just now frozen
in shock. The second of the two had hair of the richest gold, worn
straight to his shirt collar. Rangy and muscular, he cut a dashing
figure in a fine blue linen shirt and dark trousers, with a silken
neckerchief knotted about his throat. But it was his eyes, dancing,
bold blue eyes set within a merry, good-looking face that captured
Juliana’s attention. They were fixed on her with an expression of
pure happiness, sparkling blue light seeming to fly from them as
their owner started forward at a run.

“Aw, shucks, Juliana—it’s us. Wade and Tommy.
Don’t you recognize us, peanut?”

“Hold on, Tommy.” Wade seized his brother’s
arm before he could reach the stunned girl. With a stern look, he
said something quietly to the other man, and then took a halting
step forward.

“Juliana. I’m sure this is a shock for you.
Gray Feather must’ve scared you pretty badly bringing you here like
this—but hell, we’ve been searching all over for you and all I can
say is: Thank God he found you.” Wade hesitated, then went on, the
silence in the clearing loud as thunder.

“We’ve been ... we want ... oh, hell, there’s
so much to say, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that
you’re safe. You are safe, you know. We’ll see to that. We’re your
brothers, honey, and whatever you may have heard about us, well, it
may or may not be true, but we’ve come clear across Arizona to find
you and ... you may not want anything to do with us after all the
stories, you may not have forgiven us for not writing to you in so
long, but ... We’ll take this real slow and let you get used to us
again and try to explain ...”

With a sob of overwhelming joy breaking from
her throat, Juliana rushed headlong into his arms.

Wade hugged her tight, still dazed by the joy
and unquestioning acceptance in her face.

“Whoopee!” Tommy pounced on her then like a
wild young cougar. He grabbed her and whirled her in the air until
she was dizzy, then wrapped her in a giant hug. “I told Wade you
wouldn’t be some prissy, snooty little thing. Didn’t I tell you,
Wade? But, peanut, you sure did grow into a beauty! And Keedy—no
wonder he’s been like a lovesick calf all this while—where the hell
is Keedy?”