WM02 - Texas Princess (35 page)

“Did you leave
me
that night?” Tobin forced himself to look up. “Were you running from
me
?”

He was starving for her, drinking her in, but denying himself. Liberty didn’t want to talk.

She didn’t even want to run. She only wanted to feel.

“You’re in great danger. These men have orders to kil you on sight.”

He pul ed her so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. “Were you leaving me, Libby?” he demanded in a whisper that seemed to come from deep within.

“No,” she answered, and felt his control break.

He crushed her against his chest and buried his face in her hair. “Then nothing else matters.”

His big body was warm and comforting surrounding her. She felt his heart pounding as his hand tugged her hair until her mouth lifted once more to his. This time his kiss bruised her lips, but she didn’t care. Al the longing and re and need pounded inside her until she felt she would vanish into dust if he didn’t hold her against him.

Tobin mumbled her name, then lifted her high in the air. As he slowly lowered her, he kissed the swel of each breast.

Liberty laughed wishing no clothes blocked his kisses. Her whole body strained, aching for his touch.

“When I get you somewhere safe,” he whispered against her ear, “I plan to have my way with you.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” She combed her ngers through his hair. “A week is far too long to sleep alone.”

Tobin kissed the corner of her mouth. “I have no plans of sleeping.”

“I’l wake you if you even try.” She giggled. “Now, how do we get out of here?”

Reluctantly, he stepped away. “Get dressed. I’ve been watching you for days, waiting for a chance to get you alone. Now that I have, I know we only have minutes left before that guard dog comes to nd you.”

Liberty tugged on her stockings and buttoned her blouse. “I’m ready.”

Tobin raised an eyebrow. “Where are your shoes?”

Before she could answer he added, “Never mind. We have to get out of here fast.”

As Tobin took her hand and turned, the click of a gun’s hammer being pul ed back stopped him.

Warren appeared from between the branches. “Not so fast, McMurray.”

Tobin didn’t move, but Liberty did. She rushed between the two men. “Don’t, Sergeant!

Don’t shoot.”

Warren didn’t lower his rie that now pointed straight at Liberty. “I’l not let him take you again, miss.”

Anger ared as Liberty took a step forward, daring Warren to shoot. “He’s . . .”

“Step away, Libby,” Tobin’s voice came from behind her.

“No,” she said, without looking at Tobin. “I left the ranch that night to go to town and tel everyone you hadn’t kidnapped me. I’m tired of the lies. One could get you kil ed.”

“Step away, Libby.” Tobin’s voice bore an edge she’d never heard him use.

“No.” She glared at Sergeant Warren. “If he shoots, he’l shoot me. This is al my fault.

I’m the one who believed Samuel loved me.”

Warren didn’t lower the gun, but she saw sweat trickle down the side of his face. He was a good man, a fair man, a good soldier. Her only question hinged on which he was most, a man or a soldier.

She felt Tobin’s hands circle her and pul her gently to the side, but she stared at Warren. “If you re, kil us both because I’m leaving with Tobin, one way or the other.”

“No,” Tobin said as he moved in front of her. “I’m the one he has orders to kil .”

Liberty twisted beneath his arm, wanting to be as close to him as she could, wanting the warmth of him to blanket her. Tears bubbled in her eyes as she knew Warren’s bul et would strike him at any moment. At this range, the sergeant could not miss.

She thought of begging for Tobin’s life, but knew it would make no difference. If he reached for his gun, Warren would re. If he ran the bul et would land in the center of his back.

Libby rose to her tiptoes and kissed him softly on the cheek thinking of al the times they’d touched.

Tobin faced his death in silence. He’d not beg or bargain.

To Liberty he whispered, “For the last time, stand clear, Libby.”

The morning breeze seemed to hold its breath a moment as Tobin stared into cold gray eyes. Then, slowly, the sergeant lowered his rie.

No one moved.

“He cal ed you Libby,” Warren said. “You told me only one person cal ed you that.”

A slow smile brushed over Warren’s mouth before he straightened back into military attention. “I’l give you a few more minutes, Miss Liberty, and then I’l send a man with your boots.”

The sergeant took a step backward. “He may have a little trouble nding you in these trees since I don’t remember the exact spot where you were.”

Liberty understood completely. “Thank you, Bil y D.”

“No need. Just doing my job of checking on you. I see you are al right.” He turned to Tobin. “Take care of your Libby.”

“I wil ,” Tobin answered.

Then, as quietly as he appeared, Warren was gone.

Before Liberty could take a breath, Tobin tossed her over his shoulder. “We’re not waiting around for the boots.” He ran into the branches and splashed across the stream toward his horse.

Before Liberty could grasp what had just happened, they were riding through the stream and away from where the soldiers had camped last night. She leaned against his chest and tried to slow her heart.

“I don’t know how long Warren can al ow us, without looking like he had something to do with your escape,” Tobin whispered, “so hold on. I’m going to make as much ground as I can.”

She nodded knowing even though running through the stream wasn’t as fast as on land, they had to get away without leaving any hint of a trail. The soldiers at the camp would have to spread out to look. Stil , with only a few minutes’ head start, escape would be hard.

“Where are we going?” she asked as the horse plowed through water.

“To the fort,” Tobin said against her ear. “It’s the only direction they won’t search.”

Liberty thought of arguing, but decided Tobin might be right. If the troops found no trail, they’d probably assume she went back. Warren wouldn’t say a word about Tobin, so they’d think she was on foot.

They rode for two hours before Tobin climbed out of the stream and into a eld of dried corn stacks. He asked for the ribbon from her braid and tied a brush to the tail of the horse. The weed swished away their tracks as he walked the horse into the eld.

“I can walk too,” she offered.

“Not without shoes. But lean forward over the horse’s neck.”

Tobin moved slowly, guiding the animal between the rows.

“Tobin,” she whispered. “You didn’t die.”

He looked at her for the rst time since they’d left. With his standing and her leaning down, they were at eye level. “The day’s not over.” He winked.

His mood surprised her. She’d never seen him like this. They were in more danger than she’d ever been in her life and yet she felt ful y alive.

“Tobin,” she whispered again. “How’d you get past the three men at the bridge waiting to shoot you?”

He smiled. “The Apache spotted them about noon. We’d been ready to defend the ranch, but by then realized no army was coming. I had my pack ready to cross the hil s and catch up with you, but the mare decided to deliver her colt so I lost an hour. I was stil there when one of the Apache rode in to tel us what was going on at the bridge.”

Liberty frowned. “You delayed your rescue of me to deliver a horse?”

Tobin shrugged. “Priorities.”

She swung out toward him and almost toppled off the horse.

He gently shoved her back on and said, “Aren’t you the one who told me not to fol ow you?”

Liberty frowned having a feeling she wouldn’t win this argument. “Was the colt what you hoped for?”

Tobin smiled. “You should see him, Libby. Long legs and deep girth. Lean in the ank.

He’s born to run with the heart to never stop. He’l be the best horse ever bred for the rangers.”

She knew he’d been working for years breeding and training horses, hoping for the perfect one. One day a ranger’s life would depend on the speed and endurance of his horse, and Tobin planned to make sure the lawman rode a Mc-Murray mount.

“I couldn’t believe the markings,” Tobin continued. “Chestnut brown with black mane and stockings, just like I knew he’d be. Before we could wipe him down, he was bucking to run.”

Libby studied the man walking beside her. “At what point did you remember me and al the trouble I was in?”

Tobin frowned. “I’m always thinking of you. Lord, you l my every thought, Libby. I was even thinking of naming the horse Liberty.”

This time Libby tumbled off the horse when she swung at him. Tobin caught her easily as he laughed. “Could you wait to kil me until after I’ve saved you?”

He kissed her soundly and lifted her back on the horse. His nger brushed her lips as he whispered, “We’l ght this out later.”

279

She looked up and saw the guard tower of the fort. The dried corn stacks snapped beneath the hooves, but they moved slowly forward.

“We can’t go in,” she whispered. “Samuel is there.”

Tobin shook his head. “No. I’m guessing the captain is out looking for you by now.

Besides, we’re not going into the fort. We’re heading toward that barn.”

Liberty studied the direction he pointed until she saw a shack about a hundred yards from the outside wal of the fort. It looked no different than a dozen others she’d seen.

Freighters traveling from fort to fort often built such primitive structures for their rigs to stay in. The army might welcome their trade, but not necessarily their company for days. Men who drove the mule teams preferred to keep to themselves and not have to fol ow the army’s rules. So they stayed close enough to feel protected by the fort guard but far enough away that the captain couldn’t smel their liquor while they rested up before moving on.

Libby dreaded to think what a place inhabited by mules and drunks would smel like, but as they neared, the heavy gray clouds opened up, drenching them both.

“Great,” she whispered.

“Isn’t it,” Tobin answered. “If this keeps up a few more minutes, no one wil be able to

nd any sign of our trail.” He untied the weed from his horse’s tail. “You want your ribbon back?”

She glared at him.

Tobin shrugged, tucked it in his pocket and added, “I’l buy you another.”

The rain blew so strong that Libby felt like they were wading through water by the time they reached the barn.

Tobin lifted her from the saddle and carried her to a dry spot. Then, without a word, he went back into the rain and walked the horse inside. In almost total darkness between the lightning strikes, he pul ed the saddle and brushed down the animal with the saddle blanket.

Libby tried to see where she was in the ashes. The barn was long and leaked in several spots, making tiny indoor waterfal s. The barn oor was dirty, covered with trash and horse dung, but the loft in the back looked relatively clean. Hay had been stacked in one corner and it looked dry.

“Libby, you al right?”

She jumped when Tobin said her name. “Yes. Just cold.”

“Don’t move,” he said. “Stretch your hands out so I can nd you. Don’t move.”

She fol owed his order. A moment later his hand touched hers. He lifted her up and carried her to a crude ladder. “Can you make it to the loft?”

She gripped the rough-cut boards. “I think so.”

“Good. Climb up and strip off those wet clothes.”

A ash offered her a glimpse of where she was going. Libby climbed. Her stocking feet planted rmly on cold boards, she pul ed off her blouse and skirt, then waited for another ash to show her where a rafter was so she could hang the wet garments.

By the time she heard Tobin climb the ladder, she’d stripped down to her undergarments and was shivering.

The thump of his saddle hitting the loft oor echoed across the barn. A few seconds later, Tobin wrapped his bedrol blanket around her. “It’s wet on the corners, but I think my oil slicker kept it pretty dry.”

Through shivering teeth she thanked him. “I guess a re is out of the question.”

“You guessed right.” He laughed as if al this were great fun.

She heard him moving in the hay; then, in a ash of lightning, he reached for her hand and pul ed her down on the wool inside lining of the slicker. She tumbled into the hay and into his arms.

As she shivered, he tucked her beneath his arm and pul ed the blanket over them both.

It took her a moment to realize that though she was wearing only a thin layer of silk, he was wearing nothing.

“Let’s try to get warm,” he whispered as he pushed her wet hair back and kissed her neck.

“I’m too cold,” she said as she chattered.

He held her close as his hands moved over her back, gently caressing as he warmed.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to lay out in the grass only a few yards from you every night and not move in to share your bed?” His words whispered against her ear. “I thought I’d go mad, I wanted to touch you so badly. Once in a while I’d hear you say something and I’d grip the earth to keep from coming to you. Last night I swear I heard you whisper my name in your sleep.”

Libby stopped shivering. “How long were you there?”

“Every night, from the rst night. I told myself that as long as I knew you were safe, I’d wait for just the right time to take you so that no one would get kil ed.” He moved his big hand over her hip. “But you have no idea how the thought of you so close tortured me.”

She breathed deep of his scent and spread her hand over the warmth of his bare chest. The scar over his heart reminded her of the men who’d planned to kil him.

“Tobin, what happened to the men hiding at the bridge?”

She felt his laugh more than heard it. “We let the Apache handle them. They asked if they could pester them and Teagen told them to have fun. If I were guessing, I’d say the rst night the men would be bothered by spiders and ants. The Apache consider it a prank to dig up an ant bed at night and plant it beside someone sleeping. The soldiers probably woke up with ants crawling in their noses and ears.”