Samantha James (28 page)

She didn’t wake until almost noon the next day. She washed hurriedly and changed into a clean blouse and skirt. She didn’t take the time to braid her hair but left it loose over her shoulders. She hurried from her room, anxious to see how Kane had weathered the night.

Dorothy was in the midst of changing his band-age. Abby’s stomach lurched at the sight of his swollen, raised flesh, crisscrossed with ugly black stitches. While the wound didn’t look any better, neither did it appear worse.

She moved to the bedside. “How is he?”

Dorothy’s expression was somber. “Dr. Foley came early this morning. Said he’s doing about the same. But he’s been a little restless this morning.” Abby laid a cool hand on his forehead. She frowned. He seemed rather warm.

That wasn’t the case by late afternoon. His temperature shot up. His skin was dry and burning. He started to thrash from side to side, moaning and tossing his limbs.

“Kane—” She half-sat on the edge of the mattress and pressed her hand against his good shoulder, trying to quiet him. His features were flushed and contorted, his body rigid and unyielding. With a snarl and a mighty sweep of his arm he sent her tumbling to the floor. Stunned but unhurt, Abby scrambled to her feet. If he kept this up, he would tear open his wound once again. She had to get him quiet! Racing to the door, she screamed for Dorothy.

It took Dorothy, Lucas and Grady, one of the ranch hands, to hold him while Abby tipped a glass of water laced with laudanum to his lips. It seemed to take forever before he swallowed what she hoped was enough. With a nod she dismissed the others.

It wasn’t long before the laudanum took effect. Abby poured fresh, cool water into a basin and carried it to the bedside table. There she wet the cloth and bathed his face and throat. Wetting it again, she dragged it slowly across his chest and arms. Over and over again she repeated the movement, seeking to cool his feverish skin. Her quiet murmuring soothed him. The tension constricting his muscles loosened.

She bathed him until she was certain her arms would fall out of their sockets. Dorothy relieved her for a short while, and then she was at it again. It was nightfall before his flesh seemed cooler, his color more natural.

Her shoulders sagged with relief. She laid her fingers against the raspy hardness of his cheek and smiled. “Thank heaven,” she said aloud.

It gave her a start when she realized his eyes were open, his stare wide and unblinking. Before she knew what he was about he’d clamped his hands around her wrists and dragged her close. Their eyes locked. It was as if he were seeing her for the very first time.

“Lorelei?” he whispered.

“No, Kane.” She was half-afraid to speak. “I’m Abby, remember? Abby!”

He paid no heed. In the blink of an eye his expression changed to one of sheer disbelief. The hair on the back of Abby’s neck prickled eerily. He stared at her, but clearly he saw someone else.

The grip on her wrists tightened painfully. “It can’t be,” he said hoarsely. “It can’t be …” The muscles in his throat worked rhythmically. “Did you know they’re going to hang me?” His tone grew frantic. “They’re going to hang me …”

He released her. “No!” he cried. “You can’t do this! Lorelei … I loved her … Don’t you know I loved her? You can’t do this … I don’t want to die …”

Scalding tears slid down her cheeks. She cradled his face between her palms. “Hush,” she said raggedly.

“Don’t let them hang me.” His eyes were wild and glazed and pleading. “Please don’t let them hang me.” He threw an arm across his face. Dry, racking sobs tore from his throat.

Abby closed her eyes, as if to drown out the sound of his torment, the tightness in her chest nearly unbearable. She wrapped her arms around him and clung, willing away the tremors that racked his body. But even as her heart went out to him, a bone-deep despair crept over her.

Lorelei, whoever she was, was someone Kane had once loved deeply … For the life of her, Abby didn’t know why the knowledge hurt so much.

But it did. God help her, it did.

It was a faint tugging on her scalp that wakened her. Rousing slowly, Abby realized she must have dozed. She raised her head and spied darkly tanned fingers inching through the wild tangle of her hair where it lay on the mattress.

She sat up. Kane was awake and watching her, his eyes shadowed but clear. With his fingertips he skimmed the dampness from her cheek. Although he was foggy and dazed, his heart contracted. Tears? For him?

Abby pressed a hand to her cheeks. Her eyes were scratchy and swollen. No doubt her face was blotchy and red. She felt suddenly shy and awkward. “I must look a fright.”

His gaze was moving hungrily over her features—or did she only imagine the hunger? But she knew she didn’t imagine his mumbled “You look beautiful.”

There was a huskiness to his voice that had never been there before. Abby thrilled to it.

“Are you hungry? Dorothy fixed hot broth, in case you woke up—” She broke off at the mute question in his gaze. “Dorothy’s the housekeeper. We brought you here to the Diamondback after you passed out. Do you remember?”

He grimaced, shifting a little. Pain like a white-hot brand shot through his shoulder. “I remember the ground coming up at me and that’s about it.” His voice was low and hoarse.

“The wound in your shoulder reopened. Dr. Foley said it was a wonder you made it this far. He cleaned it and sewed it closed so it wouldn’t tear again.” She wet her lips. “You must be hungry,” she said again.

He shook his head. “Thirsty more than hungry.”

Abby poured a glass full of cool water from the pitcher across the room. She sat on the bed and slipped an arm around his shoulders, levering his head up and touching the glass to his fever-parched lips. He drank thirstily, swallowing almost the entire contents of the glass. His head fell back upon the pillow. Abby half-rose, intending to set aside the glass.

Kane turned his head. He blinked at her, his eyes bleary. “Don’t go,” he mumbled.

Abby sank back down. His hand groped across the blanket, blindly searching. She clasped his palm between both of hers. With a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob, she rubbed her cheek across his knuckles.

She stayed by his side the night through. Dorothy crept in at dawn’s first light. Kane was sleeping peacefully, as he had most of the night. Dorothy shooed Abby to her room to lay down. Abby didn’t argue; her shoulders drooped with fatigue.

It was late morning when she awoke. She washed quickly and changed into a gaily patterned blue skirt and a white blouse. She was still braiding her hair when she stepped into Kane’s room. Dr. Foley was there, bending over Kane, wrapping a new bandage around his shoulder. Dorothy stood nearby.

She entered with a rustle of skirts. “How is he?”

“Better than I expected,” Dr. Foley said, smiling cheerfully, “especially since Dorothy tells me he had quite a fever yesterday. I’d say his temperature is just about back to normal, and his color is good.” He winked at her. “Anytime you’d like a job as a nurse, you just let me know.”

He turned back to Kane. “You can have broth today, solid food tomorrow. I’ll stop by and take those stitches out in a week. By then you’ll be good as new. Just don’t take it in your head to get too frisky on these two ladies. You can get up and take a turn around the room this evening, but no further.” He started toward the door, then waved Abby off when he saw she meant to follow. “I can see myself out. No need to bother.”

Dorothy left as well. She smiled briefly at Abby and closed the door quietly behind her.

Their eyes caught and held. Dr. Foley was right, Abby thought fleetingly. He
was
much better. He lay propped against a mound of pillows, watching her approach. His features were gaunt but there was an alertness about him that hadn’t been there yesterday. Abby laid a tentative hand on his forehead. His skin was cool to the touch.

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly.

“Like hell,” he muttered in his usual blunt manner.

Abby smiled. She couldn’t help it. The relief that flooded her was immense. He was going to pull through. She could have shouted with relief and happiness.

He glared at her. “You think it’s funny? I suppose you like seeing me in pain.”

She banished the urge to grin from ear to ear. “You must be starving,” she murmured smoothly. “I’ll bring you some broth—”

“I had broth this morning/’ he informed her crossly. “Frankly, I’d like something a little more substantial—no, make that a
lot
more substantial—”

“Not a chance,” Abby said firmly. “The doctor said not until tomorrow and that’s that.”

She smiled; he glared. “Now then,” she said lightly, “I’m sure Dorothy has some broth warm in—”

“Dorothy. The housekeeper?”

“Yes. The lady who sums up the extent of our household staff—” She couldn’t quite keep the censure from her tone. “—the lady who didn’t run screaming out the door when she discovered that you, dangerous outlaw that you are, would be spending the next few nights under our roof.”

He had the grace to drop his eyes; nevertheless, he managed to have the last word. “She’s as bossy as you are,” he muttered. Abby didn’t mind, though. She picked up her skirts and swept from the room—Kane was going to be fine and nothing could dim her joy right now.

She soon discovered Kane was smarting because he couldn’t feed himself. Rather than have him waste his energy arguing, she decided to let him try it. But it was obvious the slightest movement pained his shoulder. By the fourth spoonful, his hand began to shake so dreadfully it spilled all down the front of the napkin she’d placed on his chest. He let out a vivid string of curses. Without a word Abby took up the handle and spooned the fragrant broth into his mouth.

He voiced no protest when she brought a basin of warm water to the bedside table and announced her intention to give him a bath—at least not until she lathered a cloth with soap.

He swore. “Dammit, I don’t want to smell like a two-dollar whore—”

She whirled on him, fire in her eyes. “For heaven’s sake, watch your tongue,” she snapped. “Besides, as I recall you demanded I use this very same soap the last time you … the last time we …” She stopped, realizing that particular memory was better left undisturbed.

It was too late. Their eyes caught and held endlessly, reflecting the same sizzling awareness that kindled inside both of them. Kane was the first to glance away. Abby lowered herself to the edge of the bed, her posture unnaturally stiff.

Kane didn’t look at her as he spoke. “Maybe you should call Dorothy.”

As hesitant as her expression was, her response came swiftly. “I’ll do it.”
I want to
, she almost said, only barely curtailing the words. Relegating such an intimate task to someone else—even Dorothy—just didn’t bear thinking about.

She soaped his arms first, careful to avoid jarring his shoulder, trying hard to distance her mind from the task at hand. Her heart fluttered—and so did her breath. His skin was very dark against the white sheet folded flat against the plane of his belly, just below the hair-enclosed hollow of his navel. He was lean and tough, all strong, hard male.

Not once did she allow her hands to touch his bare skin—she kept the barrier of the washcloth between them—but her fingers displayed an embarrassing tendency to linger along the roped hardness of his muscles. Trying to subdue her feelings was even harder; twice she glanced up to find Kane’s eyes on her face, his features strangely somber. His scrutiny flustered and disturbed her. If only she knew what lurked behind those silver eyes; if only she could see into his mind and discover his very thoughts.

If only she could see deep within his
heart …

Next she soaped the beard-roughened stubble on his face and throat. Picking up a long, glinting razor and strop, she drew the edge down the strop several times. When she turned back to Kane she found him still watching her, one brow raised high.

“I don’t suppose this is a good time to ask if you know how to use it.” He spoke from the corner of his mouth.

Her smile was slow but breathtaking. Tiny lights appeared in her eyes, lighting them to blue silver. Kane felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut. This was the first time he’d seen her smile—really smile. A purely selfish pleasure rushed through him. He felt greedy and intoxicated.

“Let’s just say this is not a good time to pick a fight with me.” She couldn’t quite keep the thread of amusement from her tone. “Just hold still and don’t move, all right?”

The razor scraped slowly from his sideburn down to his jaw. Kane couldn’t have moved if he wanted to. Her brow was furrowed in concentration. The tip of her tongue darted out, pink and wet, as she applied herself to her task. The neckline of her blouse gaped slightly, offering him a glimpse of white satin and the delectably rounded top of her breast, tantalizingly close to his chest. He branded himself a cad for looking, yet what else could he do? He didn’t dare turn his head.

A delicious fantasy burst in his brain. He saw Abby astride him, her hips clamped tight around his own. Her hair was glorious and unbound, rippling over her naked shoulders, her nipples peeping impudently from between honey-gold strands that brushed the taut skin of his belly. Her breasts swayed gently in tempo with the eager glide of her body over his thrusting hardness …

Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead by the time she finished. Sick or no, his body displayed an all-too-familiar reaction to her nearness.

He swallowed. He’d cut his own throat before he’d let her shave him again. He’d never considered shaving an erotic experience … until now.

She finished blotting the last of the soap from his cheeks, then paused.

“What is it?” he asked gruffly. “Don’t like what you see?”

“It’s not that,” she said quickly. She smiled slightly. “I’m just not used to seeing you clean-shaven.” The admission slipped out before she could stop it. She flushed, all at once uncomfortably warm, when she realized her hand still rested on the sun-bronzed hardness of his chest. It looked dainty and fair, curled against the dark forest of hair on his chest and belly. Despite his illness, he made her feel small and weak—not that she minded, oddly enough. He had only to look at her and she felt all shivery inside.