Arizona Embrace (35 page)

What was he? An ex-miner. A cowboy of some kind. He certainly couldn’t call himself a rancher, even though he had owned a ranch. He hadn’t had time to buy any cows. All he had there a few horses. Women like Victoria didn’t marry impoverished miners turned ranchers; not when they had an inheritance in the bank, one of the richest men in Texas for a father-in-law, and an uncle who owned the biggest ranch in Arizona.

She might flirt with him, especially if she needed him to prove she was innocent of murder, but she wouldn’t seriously consider marrying him. There were too many respectable men available for her to consider marrying a burned-out bounty hunter.

Trinity forced himself to consider the situation at hand. Victoria was asleep and likely to sleep through the afternoon, evening, and night. If he wanted any dinner, he’d have to cook it himself. And eat it alone.

He wouldn’t wake her.

He set about the familiar task of preparing his own meal. He’d done it so often he didn’t have to think about it any more. He didn’t much care what he ate. Many times he ate nothing rather than go to the trouble of cooking. It was one of the many things he did in his life because he knew he ought to, not because he cared.

But it didn’t take him long to realize that something felt different this time. And it had nothing to do with being inside Ben’s cabin. It was a strange feeling, like he had enjoyed something quite pleasant but couldn’t quite remember what it was. But the feeling didn’t go away. In fact, it grew stronger as he fixed his dinner, ate it, and cleaned up after himself.

By the time he was ready for bed, he was practically purring with contentment. Why? What could have generated this feeling in him?

His gaze fell on Victoria, and he realized she was the difference.

It felt strange being in a cabin with a woman sleeping nearby. Sort of like being married, at least what he thought it would be like to be married. He’d never really considered it. He’d refused to let any such thoughts enter his mind. He didn’t want his life controlled by anyone else, especially a woman. They never seemed to want the same things as men. They were always trying to get men to change or do something they didn’t want to do.

But it wouldn’t be too bad if it were always like this. There was an ease about Victoria which made her as comfortable to be around as most men. This cabin was very simple, even crude, but it had a homey feeling. There were none of the feminine touches he associated with women. On the whole he felt more comfortable that way. But he wouldn’t mind a flower garden, as long as he didn’t have to work in it. Flowers inside the house were nice, too.

Trinity leaned back in his chair and stared into the fire.

Having a woman around made a man see things differently. It was real different from being around a woman. When a man was around a woman, he was sniffing her out, acting like a tomcat, thinking of what he could get, thinking of his own pleasure and not much else.

But having a woman around was something else entirely. It didn’t mean a man couldn’t let his mind contemplate pleasure now and then. No man could look at Victoria and not think about sinking blissfully into her embrace. Whether she knew it or not, she was made for love. And if he had his way, he’d prove it to her before they said
adieu
.

But he thought of other things, things Trinity had never thought about before. He thought of building something solid, of making a home. He couldn’t do that when he behaved like a one-man crusade. He never made any money. Funding his work took most of the gold he could dig out of the ground. Chasing criminals was expensive. He wasn’t home long enough to put up a house or build up a ranch or a business.

He thought of permanence, of staying in one place for years, of building a network of friends, of having a family, of being tied to people by unbreakable bonds. That meant more than buying someone’s favors by the hour … or by the evening.

It meant changing the whole way he lived, the way he thought, everything he wanted from life. It meant facing himself.

Trinity knew he wasn’t ready to do that.

They there sitting at the table in front of the fire. Trinity had fixed dinner and cleared away the dishes. Victoria had awakened about dusk.

Now it was time to go to bed, but neither of them seemed willing to make the first move.

“The rain’s letting up,” Trinity said. “We ought to be able to leave first thing in the morning.”

“We won’t run into those men?”

“They ought to be about a hundred miles west of here.”

Silence filled the room.

“How long do you think it will take us to reach Bandera?”

“That depends on how hard you want to ride.”

“Not as hard as we rode to get here.”

“Then it’ll take longer.”

More silence permeated the air.

“Don’t you want to wait for your friend?”

“No. He might be away for weeks. I didn’t see any signs of cows about. Maybe he took his herd off to sell. He didn’t have many cows, but they were good breeding stock.”

“As good as Uncle’s?”

“Better.”

“Do you think Uncle Grant will be in Bandera when we get there?”

“I doubt it, but I’m certain he’ll have hired someone to meet us.”

“How are you going to find Chalk Gillet?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping Ben could give me a line. He knows practically every cowboy between here and Galveston.”

“How, running this ranch?”

“Those cows belonged to the last man I took in. He murdered a man for them. I had nothing to do with them, so I gave them to Ben. Before that he spent all his time riding the trails north.”

Silence.

“What happens if you can’t find Gillet?”

“I’ll find him.” Trinity stood up and stretched. “It’s time for bed. I’ll check the horses.”

Victoria was in bed with the light out when Trinity returned. He put a few more pieces of wood on the fire. The sky had cleared, but a cold wind blew down from the north. They were about three thousand feet above the desert floor, and the night would be cold.

Trinity spread his bedding on the floor and undressed. He consciously made himself keep his back to Victoria. She was sound asleep, but he didn’t trust himself. Ever since that day on the mountain when he kissed her, he had been finding it harder and harder to keep his hands off her.

He told himself at the time it was okay to kiss her because it was part of his plan to lure her into trusting him. Since then he’d kept his distance, partly because she would have nothing to do with him after he kidnapped her, and partly because neither one of them could figure out how to reestablish their easy relationship.

The fact that he was taking her back to Bandera still stood between them. It didn’t matter that she was going willingly. He was still endangering her life. He had dragged her into one dangerous situation after another. He had also been prepared to shoot her uncle. That wasn’t a very good basis for establishing a relationship of love and trust.

Yet he did want her to trust him. He knew she depended on him, and he thought she respected his position. What he wanted most, though, was for her to like him.

Don’t be a fool,
he told himself.
No woman could feel about you the way you want her to, not after what you’ve done, not even if you were to let her go. The only way you can make up for what you’ve done is to prove her innocent
.

But he didn’t want to wait that long. He was here now. So was she. His body ached to touch her, to feel the softness of her skin just once more. He moved next to her bed.

He could see her in the firelight. Her hair looked nearly brown, subdued, the way she looked in sleep. She lay still, quiet, but she had a funny way of tucking her lower lip under her teeth. It made her look like she was having a nightmare.

He felt a pang of guilt. If she were having a bad dream, he was the cause of it. She had been safe and content in her mountain valley, but he couldn’t wish that he’d never gone to Mountain Valley Ranch. No matter what happened to him, he would never forget Victoria, and he would never regret finding her.

He wondered if she was warm enough. While she slept, he had found a lighter blanket, one made of soft cotton, dyed with native dyes, and woven info intricate geometric designs. Ironically, she would probably need the horsehair blanket tonight.

The flickering flames caused tiny shadows to dance across her cheeks. Her thick eyelashes appeared black in the dim light. It felt odd to look at her with closed eyes. It was almost like looking at somebody who wasn’t there. It gave her the look of a demure maiden, a young woman shy of the world, one who had retreated within herself rather than face the danger of her emotions.

Her lip slipped from under her teeth, and her mourn slowly curled up in the hint of a smile.

She still looked demure and shy, but now she looked like a young woman who merely showed a modest, timid face to the world. Inwardly she was smiling to herself, pleased with the power she exerted over men, quite content to continue wreaking havoc in the hearts of her swains.

Trinity could restrain himself no longer. Moving still closer to the bed, he reached out to touch her cheek. He let his fingers savor the downy softness of her skin. His fingertips traced the outline of her jaw, the smoothness of her lips. He liked the warmth of her. It felt soothing.

He also liked the stillness which surrounded her in sleep. It made him feel peaceful, too, something he could never remember experiencing for more than isolated moments in his life. Being next to her could make his blood boil with heat, his muscles ache with tension, his body swell with desire. At the same time he could feel a tranquility that penetrated all the way to the core of his being. Odd, how being around her could strike up such conflicting emotions, which seemed to fit perfectly together.

She seemed too soft and fragile, so delicate he was sure she would break. Yet awake, she could stay in the saddle for three days and fight off Indians as well as he could.

He touched her hair—heavy and thick, yet soft and pliable. He longed to run his fingers through it, wind it around his fingers, cord it, knot it, but he didn’t dare. It would wake her.

He touched every part of her face. Like a blind man memorizing the face of the woman he loved, Trinity absorbed the shape and texture.

Then he kissed her. He shouldn’t have, but he did. It was a gentle kiss, no more than a touch on her lips. So much, and so little. Not enough.

He kissed her again, less gently this time.

She moved.

He drew back, certain that she would awake, but she didn’t. He couldn’t go back to his bed. He had experienced the intoxicating taste of her mouth, and he had to have more.

Trinity’s body was so tense he trembled. His pants cut him uncomfortably, but he made no attempt to adjust himself. Only Victoria could provide the relief he needed. He kissed her eyelids. He had wanted to do that from the first time he watched her fall asleep. It was like kissing her to sleep, knowing she could fall asleep because he was watching, because he was protecting her. It was a wonderful feeling, one that made him feel like bursting his britches with pride.

It was also a disconcerting feeling: Such trust was an awesome responsibility, one he felt he had done little to deserve.

He brushed some errant locks back from her face. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, the side of her neck. Each kiss grew in intensity. She stirred, but Trinity was too thoroughly under the sway of his desire to back away now. When her lips quivered under his, his kiss became more full, more greedy.

Victoria kissed him back. And Trinity lost all restraint. Taking her face in his hands, he covered it with hungry kisses. There was no pretense from either one of them now. No doubt either.

Trinity threw the quilt back and pulled Victoria into his arms. The warmth of her body was like an invitation to bury his face in the curve of her neck. He couldn’t get enough of her. He couldn’t hold her close enough. No woman he’d been with had ever made him feel like this. It was as though he’d done this many times before but was experiencing it for the very first time.

Trinity wanted to say something, but how do you tell a woman you’re taking back to face a hanging you’re mad about her and want to make love to her? He’d be well-served if she treated him like Red Beard.

But she wasn’t. Victoria was holding him just as tightly as he held her. She had thrown her head back so he could kiss her throat. She covered his face with hot kisses. She pressed her body close to his, like she never wanted to let go. Trinity decided their bodies were saying all that was important just now. He would try to sort out the words later.

Trinity’s lips caressed her neck, lingered in the hollow of her shoulder while he pushed away the strap of her camisole. He planted a row of kisses down her arm. A moan of pleasure from Victoria encouraged him to slip the strap down to her elbow. The expanse of exposed breast nearly caused Trinity to lose control.

He ached to slip her gown down to her waist and feast upon her breasts, but he was afraid of moving too fast. Victoria wanted him as much as he wanted her, but he could not forget the obstacles that stood between them.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to center his attention on her other shoulder. But when he slipped the second strap over her shoulder, the second breast became exposed. That proved too much for his self-control.