Samantha James (24 page)

Kane gritted his teeth. The feel of her hands sliding over his skin, kneading and stroking, soothing and massaging was incredibly arousing. God, but he despised himself for putting her through this! He despised everything he was, everything he’d done. And Abby did, too, because he could feel her trembling before him. In fear? Disgust? He couldn’t stand the thought of either.

He wanted to drag her arms around his neck and kiss her until nothing else existed—not Sam, not Dillon. He ached with the need to lose himself in her fiery warmth, to erase the pain he’d given her last night and replace it with pleasure. But Sam was watching..

Sam
.

Slowly he turned. “You’re not quite finished yet, sweetheart.” His tone was flat, as emotionless as his eyes.

His coldness was like a blow. God, she thought brokenly. Why was he doing this? Why was he being so—so hateful? She didn’t mind what he’d asked of her; she couldn’t hide what she’d felt. She’d liked washing him. She liked touching him … But he was so distant. So remote.

She stared up at him, tears and dismay keenly evident. “I can’t,” she whispered.

“You can, sugar. And you will.”

“I won’t!” In defiance she drew back. He snared her by the wrist, pulling her against him.

Though his face was shadowed, she could feel the hunger that leaped in him.
He wanted her again
. Her gaze slid down, unwittingly confirming what she felt. Her eyes widened. Through the water she could see him—swollen, thick with arousal. She inhaled sharply.

“Kane,” she whispered. “Kane, please—”

Please
.

That single word sent his mind flooding back … He wondered bitterly if Lorelei had looked like this, her eyes huge and wounded, if she had pleaded for her life … as Abby was pleading. He could almost see the thoughts vaulting through her mind.

His lips twisted. She thought he was heartless. Cruel. But he’d done nothing to hurt her, nothing but impose his will over hers … and that was nothing to what Lorelei had endured.
Lorelei
. A wrenching pain ripped through him.

She had been brutally beaten. Savagely raped. And Lorelei hadn’t possessed even a fraction of Abby’s fire and spirit. She wouldn’t have fought back …

Some dark, nameless emotion crept over him, like a shadow across the sun. He was suddenly furious; furious with Lorelei for dying, for turning his life into a living hell … furious with Abby for tempting him, for reminding him of all that was better left behind.

“Kane, please—”

That stricken cry came again. Kane closed his mind to it. He closed his mind to everything but the feel of her. He pinned her against him, weaved his fingers through her hair and turned her face up to his, holding her immobile. Abby had one terrifying glimpse of glittering silver eyes before his mouth came down on hers, hotly demanding.

Her precious soap fell from her fingers. She clutched at him weakly, trying to push him away, but his arm was so tight about her back she couldn’t move. She could scarcely even breathe. Her heart cried out as she sensed the fierceness in him. He rubbed his chest against hers, abrading her nipples even through the damp cloth of her chemise. With his palm he ground her against his hardness. She was gasping when he finally raised his head.

She stumbled back, fingertips pressed against quivering lips. She stared at him with eyes that stung painfully. “I hate you,” she choked out. “God, I hate you!”

She surged through the water, nearly falling twice in her haste to get away from him. She struggled into her clothes and fled without a backward glance.

A confusing, unfamiliar emotion knotted his insides as he watched her flee. It lingered all the while he dressed, all the while Abby sat huddled before the fire, staring into the flames. Sam was snoring heavily when he spread out his blanket beneath the tree. He dropped hers at the far end, then crooked a finger at her.

She got to her feet, her expression mutinous. “You can’t expect me to sleep next to you!”

He bowed mockingly. “Indeed I do.”

Her glare turned hotter. “I’d sooner bed down with a snake!”

His laugh was a terrible sound. “Honey, you already have.” His features turned grim when it appeared there might be another standoff. A tussle was something he preferred to avoid. He was sorely afraid it might escalate into something much, much more …

Just when he was convinced that was his only recourse, she marched forward and obliged him. Throwing her blanket over her shoulders, she pointedly turned her back on him.

But she shivered and shivered, so long and so hard Kane was sorely put not to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. It was a long time later before she finally stopped shivering. Her deep, even breathing told him she’d fallen asleep.

With a sigh of resignation, Kane succumbed at last. Slipping his arm beneath her head, he rolled her gently against him, molding her snugly against his side, tucking her head into the hollow of his shoulder. God, she smelled so good, all warm and sleepy. And he wanted so badly to whisper his regrets.

His breath stirred the baby-fine hair at her temple. She released a watery little sigh and burrowed even closer. Overcome by the compelling need to touch her, he let his knuckles graze the curve of her cheek.

They came away wet with tears.

His arms tightened. “Abby,” he whispered raggedly. And then again:
“Abby …”

His eyes squeezed shut. Holding her like this was sweet heaven. Sweet hell. It was better this way, he told himself, better that she was convinced he was a cold, unfeeling bastard.

Only the price was far steeper than he’d imagined.

It was up to him to protect her from Sam, and keep on protecting her until this wretched affair was over …

But who the hell would protect her from him?

T
he next day passed in a blur. Abby was so tired of riding she didn’t care if she ever saw a horse again in her life. Her bottom felt bruised. Her head throbbed. Her entire body hurt. Worst of all was the empty ache in her heart.

She prayed that they were nearing Sam’s hideout. She prayed that Dillon was nearby—and safe. They had to be close … Please, God. Because the thought of spending another night with Stringer Sam terrified her as nothing else ever had ….

And then there was Kane. Since Sam had joined them, he had become a stranger, a frightening one at that. There was a razor-edged sharpness in him that he hadn’t revealed until now—or maybe she just hadn’t wanted to see it. He had scared the living daylights out of her last night, and she was furious at him for doing that to her. Nor did she understand how he could be so deliberately nasty and callous … and then hold her the night through.

She had a dim, fuzzy memory of strong arms enfolding her tightly against the sleek hardness of his shoulder, of soothing, stroking hands, of warm, comforting lips. She awoke once a long time later, dazed and disoriented. He nuzzled her forehead, the warm, musky scent she’d come to associate only with him swirling all around her, and whispered her name … or had it only been wistful imaginings?

Traveling with Sam and Kane was taking its toll on her nerves. She didn’t like the way the two men eyed each other with wary caution. There was a seething undercurrent between them, a tension that existed far beneath the surface. It made her distinctly uneasy.

Mid-afternoon they stopped atop a rocky bluff. Far below a sunken valley zigzagged across the land. On one side craggy, saw-toothed peaks reared into the skyline. The other was marked by a sheer fire-red wall of stone. The wind whistled and wailed, as lonely and desolate as the surrounding landscape.

Abby slid from the saddle, her mouth dry and aching with thirst. She walked away on wobbly legs, needing to attend to her private needs. Kane’s eyes dug like tiny needles into her back, but he made no move to follow her.

Sam was gone when she made her way back. Kane sat atop a flat-topped boulder, long legs thrust out before him, his profile as stark and barren as the mountains. Her steps slowed as she approached, yet she made enough noise so as to alert him to her presence. He didn’t glance around, as she thought—hoped?—he might. Feeling rather tentative and unsure, she lowered herself to the knobby surface—close, but not touching him.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“Checking to make sure there’s no one around.”

“We’re nearly there, aren’t we?”

He nodded. There was no need to say more.

Several seconds passed before she spoke again, her voice very low. “Is he—” She hesitated. “—as bad as they say he is?”

For a moment Kane said nothing. He turned, at last giving her his attention. Abby had the sensation she’d startled him with her question. Finally he gave a harsh laugh. “Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

She bit her lip. “I’ve heard some of the things he’s done—robbing. Cheating. Stealing.”

Kane jerked his gaze away once again. Sam and his killing had always turned his stomach. But Sam was a master at eluding the law—and at the time, staying alive was the only thing that mattered …

“I’ve also heard that he … that he kills for no reason … other than to kill.” She shuddered, thinking of the length of rope coiled on his saddle horn. “That he
likes
to make people suffer. That he likes to hear people scream …”

Yes!
he wanted to shout.
It’s true, all of it
. He was suddenly furious with her for dragging up the past, for dragging out the memories he’d purposely shut away.

He lunged to his feet, wheeling on her almost violently, hauling her upward by the arms. “Why do you want to know, Abby? Do you want to know if I did all those things?”

Abby was half-afraid to breathe. She stared at the white lines etched beside his mouth, a telltale sign of his anger. Her breathing slowed to a trickle. “Did you?” she whispered, half-afraid to even speak.

“I rode with his gang for a year, Abby.” He took a perverse satisfaction in telling her. “What the hell do you think?” He couldn’t tell her he’d only done what he had to do to stay alive. So-called
decent
folk like her didn’t understand. Or maybe they just
wouldn’t
.

She turned her head aside. “I don’t know what to think anymore.” She squeezed her eyes shut, her voice stifled. “I’m just … trying to figure out why someone would choose that kind of life—running from the law—why
you
chose that kind of life.”

Kane said nothing. He just stood there, his features a mask of ice. Her mind traveled fleetingly back to that night at the shack. It seemed impossible that this hard-featured man was the same one who had held her comfortingly, kissed away her tears … made love to her with such melting passion.

Her eyes opened, wide and mutely beseeching. “Why did you stay with him, Kane? And why did you ever join up with him in the first place?”

He pushed her away, his gaze scraping over her. “I might ask you why all the questions all of a sudden? Why the concern? Did it finally dawn on you what kind of man I am?”

Abby just stood there, shaking. Trembling. Never in her life had she been so miserable. Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back. “I—I’m just trying to understand you. But you just won’t let me close, will you? You won’t let me see what’s really inside you!”

“You wouldn’t like what’s inside, Abby. Take my word for it.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

His jaw locked. “What the hell do you want from me, Abby? An admission of guilt? You want me to list my sins one by one? I couldn’t, because there’s too goddamned many. Besides, I don’t know why the hell you’d want to know—why you’d even care.”

“I
do
care!” she cried. “Can’t you see that?”

“I told you before, Abby. You don’t know what I am. You don’t know
who
I am.”

“Oh, I know, Kane. I know more than you think. You want me to think the worst of you.” She battled to keep the quaver from her voice. “Is it just me you won’t let close? Or are you like this with everyone? Dammit, tell me!”

His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. He was tempted—God, he really was! It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to drag her close, to pour out all the anger and hurt dammed up inside. But to tell her about Lorelei—about everything—would open up his soul to her, and that was something he just couldn’t do. She would scorn him, shun him, treat him like the scum he was.

And he couldn’t stand to see the condemnation in her face.

“Why the hell should I? You’re no different than anyone else, Abby. You’ll believe what you want to believe.”

Never had he been so cold, so utterly inflexible. It was as if she could see him throwing up walls and barriers, anything he could to shut her out.

Something snapped inside Abby. She was furious that he would treat her so—and after she had given him what she had shared with no other man. Her body Her heart …

Pure rage fringed her vision. “I can’t believe I ever let you touch me—I must have been out of my mind!” She was screaming, her voice thick with the threat of tears that lay just beneath the surface. “I hate the way you are! I hate your orders, your demands. I hate the way you keep trying to scare me! Do you hear me, Kane? I hate you!” She launched herself at him, hands raised wildly, fingers curved like talons.

She never touched him. From out of nowhere an arm shot out, clamping about her waist and lifting her clear off her feet, hauling her back against a sweaty male chest. There was a burst of ribald laughter.

“What’s the matter, old man? Lost your touch with the ladies?”

Sam!
Abby went wild then, kicking, struggling, trying in vain to pry his forearms from beneath her breasts. Blindly she slammed her head back; it hurt but she felt his head snap. That vise-like arm around her waist tightened so that the breath was driven from her lungs in a soundless
whoosh
. She gasped, the world going black around the edges. Her body went limp. Her struggles ceased. The pressure eased and she hauled in a stinging lungful of air.

“Let her go, Sam.”

Her feet dangling helplessly, Abby swallowed, her gaze riveted on Kane. All his attention was focused on Sam. His voice was as flat and emotionless as his eyes. His features might have been hewn of granite.