Samantha James (12 page)

She hesitated. “A little,” she admitted.

That no-good son of a bitch
. Aloud he muttered, “I thought for sure that bastard was going to snap you in two.”

Abby wet her lips, her eyes clinging to his. His expression, she noticed vaguely, had lost some of its harshness. She struggled to form a smile. “So did I.” Her voice emerged feathery and weak, totally unlike her own.

Kane said nothing. He had stepped close, so close she could see the dark gray specks in his irises, the shadow cast on his cheekbones by half-lowered lashes; so close she could feel the warm heat of his body, warm against the chill night air.

She flushed when his gaze once again lowered. Modesty dictated she avert her head, but his scrutiny of her near-naked breasts didn’t make her feel soiled and dirty, as Jake’s had—she knew he was only checking for injuries. Still, she was sharply aware of the way his fingers slid along her skin, grazing her ribs, probing slowly, gently gauging. His fingertips were faintly callused, but the sensation was not at all unpleasant. She felt an odd, unfamiliar quiver low in her belly. In fact, she thought with the faintest tinge of panic, it was all too pleasant.

They were both holding their breath when at last he withdrew his hands. But while both were achingly aware of her state of undress, neither was aware of the chaos going on inside the other.

Abby awkwardly tugged her shirt back over her shoulders, all at once feeling naked and exposed. Kane presented her with his back. By the time she’d finished, the sudden onset of night fell upon the earth like a smothering cloak. She bit her lip, staring at the rigid lines of his back. He seemed to sense she was finished and turned back. Their eyes locked. A strange, palpitating tension sprang up between them.

Abby was the first to tear her eyes away. “Do you think he’s dead?”

Kane didn’t need to ask who. His gaze bounced upon her, then swung off to search the inky darkness. Woodenly he answered, “My aim’s not what it used to be if he isn’t.”

A part of her was appalled at such callousness; still another whispered he’d had no choice. Abby shivered as the shadows seemed to move closer. “We’d better start a fire before it gets any later—”

“No. No fire. Not tonight.”

Her breath caught. A flurry of fear gripped her mind. Kane could have kicked himself when he saw it.

“You don’t think he’ll come back, do you?” Though she tried, Abby couldn’t quite keep the tremor from her voice.

Kane despised the surge of longing that rose up inside him. He wanted to drag her in his arms, kiss away the puckered frown between her brows, soothe her fears … Christ! What the hell was the matter with him?

“I doubt it,” he said at last. “But I’ll keep watch just the same. You might as well try and get some sleep.”

It was a dismissal, abrupt and somehow almost cutting. To her horror, she felt a stinging rush of tears behind her eyelids. Feeling wounded without knowing quite why, she pulled in a long, uneven breath, battling the urge to cry.

But Kane had heard the deep, shuddering breath she drew. His head whipped around. He regarded her suspiciously.

“What’s wrong?”

She just shook her head, unwilling to say anything for fear her voice would betray her tremulous feelings right now. Her emotions lay scattered in every direction, but she couldn’t seem to help it. She would have turned away, but all at once he was there before her.

“I may be a lot of things, sweetheart, but I’m not stupid. And I’m not blind.” He caught her chin between thumb and forefinger, turning her face up to his. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Though his voice was still gruff, some of the fierceness had left his face.

“I just—I just don’t know why you’re so angry with me,” she heard herself say haltingly. She shuddered. “I know those men probably followed us from Crystal Springs. But it’s not my fault … I didn’t do anything to make them try to do—” She flushed painfully. “—what they did.”

No, he thought vaguely, she hadn’t. There was no need to. His insides twisted with guilt … and something else. It wasn’t just her chestnut-haired beauty that beckoned to a man—it was her pride and fiery spirit that made a man long to tame it, yearn to make her surrender. No man was immune from it, including him … especially him.

For just an instant, the plane of his jaw hardened. He hated the betraying moisture in her eyes, hated himself for putting it there. He was only half-aware of reaching for her, tugging her close.

“No,” he agreed, his voice very low. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, it’s my fault for letting them sneak up on us.”

Their eyes locked. For a mind-splitting moment, there was no doubt both were locked fast in the remembrance of what they’d been doing.

“It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known what they intended to do.” Her arms slid around his waist. She shivered; his arms tightened.

Slowly she raised her head. “Kane,” she whispered. “I … don’t blame you for shooting Jake. I know you did it because … you had no choice.”

Kane clenched his jaw. He wasn’t about to divulge the burning rage he’d felt at the sight of Jake’s hands on her. Nor could he divulge the fear that had gripped his mind while Jake stood over Abby. He’d been afraid, not for himself, but for Abby. He’d known she wouldn’t meekly submit—and she hadn’t.

He’d shot Jake because it was either that or tear him apart with his bare hands.

“You were a fool to try to fight him,” he heard himself mutter. “You could have been hurt a lot worse. Christ, when I think what he might have done …!”.

“But he didn’t.”

She turned her head against his shoulder, rubbing her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt. It spun through her mind that his arms were a strange place to find comfort, but he felt so good, all warm, solid strength.

Her breath, warm and moist, trickled across the hollow of his throat. His voice drifted above her head. “You sure you’re all right?”

Abby nodded. Her mouth went dry. Slowly, as if he were giving her the chance to move away if she wanted, he threaded his fingers through her hair and tilted her head back so he could see her. His eyes darkened when she made no move to stop him. And she knew, with stark, shattering clarity, that he was going to kiss her again …

Her hands came up to clutch at his shoulders, as if in protest. Instead she found her fingers clinging, the muscle beneath her fingertips startlingly hard. Her breath fluttered, like a leaf caught in the wind; he trapped it between his lips and caught it in the back of his throat.

The kiss was not what she expected. It started off deep and slow and rousing, melting all through her like Warm honey. His mouth slanted first one way and then the other. She wondered how it might feel on other places … She gave a tiny little sigh, helplessly twisting her head to accommodate him.

The sound was like a dam breaking inside him. “Open your mouth,” he said against her lips. “Just … do it,” he urged.
“Please.”

She did, and was rewarded by the sweeping entrance of his tongue against hers, as bold and fearless as the man himself. Her stomach quivered. Her heart beat the pounding rhythm of a drum as the seductive persuasion of his mouth grew blatantly erotic. He tugged her lower lip between his before dipping within to trace the bottom edge of her teeth. Abby felt a melting curl of heat unfurl low in her belly.

Darkness engulfed them; the sounds of the night slipped away. Abby was conscious only of the dark, sweet pleasure of his kiss. His mouth slid with slow heat down the fragile arch of her throat. She’d forgotten her state of undress, but Kane hadn’t. Impatient hands flicked aside the tattered edges of her chemise, baring her breasts to him.

She anticipated his touch even before it came. Her breasts seemed to tingle and swell. Her nipples grew tight and peaked. When his thumbs raked across both aching summits, a white-hot current stabbed through her, from her belly to the secret place between her thighs. Her fingers dug into the binding hardness of his arms. Her mind groped fuzzily. There was a reason this shouldn’t be happening, but dear Lord, it was so hard to think …

Kane gritted his teeth. Hunger as sharp as a blade cut through him. His manhood swelled stiff and rigid; he felt he was going to burst his britches. He wanted to push her down, feel her tight and wet and hot around him, and drive deep inside her until there was only mindless, pulsing ecstasy.

If you do this you’ll be no better than the two of them
… The stricken little cry reverberated in his head, over and over.

He tried to close his mind to it. He covered her mouth with his, his kiss rough, almost bruising. He filled his palms with her buttocks and lifted her, grinding her against the part of him that ached for her the most.

You’ll be no better than they are …

The taunt tore through his mind again. Chester and Jake. Sweet Jesus. He was
already
no better than those two scoundrels. He was worse …
worse
.

She just didn’t know it yet.

Slowly he lifted his head. His breathing was harsh and scraping. “If you don’t want this to go any farther, now’s the time to say the word.”

His expression was dark and tense. She’d felt the explosion of violence in his kiss, as if he’d suddenly wanted something more from her, something she didn’t wholly understand. Sensing the sudden darkness of his mood, she drew a deep, shaky breath. Her fingers clutched at the pink ribbons on her chemise.

It was all the answer Kane needed.

“You’d better get some sleep.”

She stared at him, confused by his curtness, confused by her body’s wanton response to his kiss. Her tongue came out to touch her lips, swollen and moist from his mouth. “Kane—”

He clenched his teeth. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was teasing him!
“Now
, Abby.”

“But—”

“Now
. Before I change my mind!”

His features were closed and inscrutable, somehow fierce. He picked up Chester’s rifle and stalked to the edge of the camp.

For the second night in a row, she fell asleep struggling against tears … and not knowing why.

Abby opened her eyes to brilliant, sun-washed sky the next morning. She lay motionless, aware of an unaccustomed ache in her muscles; the events of the night before flooded back in rampant remembrance. She turned her head slightly and spied Kane.

He must have started a fire this morning, for he was crouched before it, a cup of coffee cradled in his palms. He must have sensed her scrutiny, for he chose that moment to raise his head.

Their eyes collided.

The silence was stifling. The entire world seemed to be holding its breath as time raged on. Staring at him in the cold light of day, Abby found it difficult to believe this was the man who had held and comforted her, then kissed her with such fire and passion. His expression was coolly remote. He appeared dangerous and unapproachable, his jaw shadowed with a bristly growth of beard. Apparently he’d just come from the stream; his hair was wet. His shirt hung open, revealing the dense mat of hair on his chest. All at once she could scarcely draw in enough air to breathe.

Abby was the first to drag her gaze away. Kane stared at the fire while she rose, her movements rather stiff. The morning air was chill, though the blaze of the sun promised another scorching day. She kept the blanket draped around her shoulders for modesty’s sake. It had been too dark last night to search her saddlebags for a clean shirt and chemise. Her steps carried her without volition to the fire. She shivered a little and stretched out her hands toward the crackling flames, feeling awkward and unsure of herself.

“Coffee?” Kane didn’t look at her as he spoke.

“No, thank you. I think I’ll just go wash up.” Her tone was carefully neutral.

At the stream, she dropped her clean clothes on a rock and sat down to pull off her boots. She wasted no time pulling off her ruined shirt and chemise. She started to reach for her clean chemise, then stopped, her gaze riveted longingly on the stream. She’d meant to merely rinse her face and hands, but the heat and two days of travel had left her feeling dusty and sweaty—she couldn’t remember when she’d been so dirty! The water lapped her toes, clear and cool and inviting. On impulse she stripped completely, grabbed her soap and waded into the stream.

At first the bite made her gasp, but she ventured further, until the water nearly reached her shoulders. She ducked under, immersing herself completely. She worked the soap into a lather and quickly washed her hair and her body. Although it felt heavenly, she resisted the impulse to linger. Using her torn chemise as a washcloth, she hurriedly scrubbed herself. She left the stream regretfully a few minutes later.

She’d just struggled into her chemise and drawers when a prickly unease tickled her spine. She whirled, some sixth sense warning her she wasn’t alone.

Kane sat on the bank, some twenty feet distant, a rifle propped on his knees.

Disbelief warred with dismay; a ready anger surged to the fore.

She snatched up her shirt and clutched it to her breast, glaring her displeasure. “If you were a gentleman, you wouldn’t stand there gawking.”

Kane met her regard calmly. He’d have turned his back if she’d asked, but as usual her tartness got his dander up. He didn’t bother to tell her he wasn’t about to leave her alone after what happened last night—he knew she’d never believe him.

His insolent gaze wandered slowly down the slender length of her legs and back to her face. A derisive smile touched his lips. “As I recall, it seems to me I
did
act the gentleman last night.”

At his pointed reminder, Abby’s cheeks began to burn. He was right, but did he have to be so—so arrogant about it? “A gentleman wouldn’t remind me of that!”

“I never claimed to be a gentleman, which reminds me … Seems to me that for a married lady, you were pretty damned eager to cozy up to me last night.”

Abby blanched. Heaven help her, she had liked it when he kissed her. She’d loved the way he’d made her feel, all tight and tingly inside, yet at the same time all hot and liquid; she’d loved the feel of his hands on her breasts, teasing her nipples to tingling erectness. She’d even found herself wondering what his mouth would feel like there …