Chasing Rainbows (13 page)

She forced herself to meet his gaze, truly studying his face for the first time since she had awakened. Upon closer inspection, she noticed a faint, subtle swelling around his jaw and cheekbones, and a scar above his right eye. She glanced at his knuckles and saw that they were raw and bruised as well.

Annie shook her head, letting out a soft whistle. “You look like twenty miles of bad road, mister. I warned you not to go up against that
hombre
.”

A slow, easy grin softened Jake’s expression of concern. He lifted his hand and placed it palm down against her forehead. “Your fever’s broken,” he said after a moment.

She swatted away his hand, rebuking the tender act of solicitude. “I suppose you think I owe you now that you doctored me up, don’t you?”

He shrugged, his expression unreadable. “You don’t owe me a thing, darlin’.”

“The way I see it, we’re even. I pulled your chestnuts out of the fire, didn’t I?”

“Whatever you say.”

Annie looked away, uncomfortably aware how churlish and ungrateful she sounded. But she didn’t know how to stop herself. There seemed to be only two ways to deal with Jake Moran. She either allowed herself to be drawn toward him, ensnared in his silky web like an unsuspecting fly, or she ran as fast as she could in the opposite direction. If there was a middle ground with him, she sure as hell hadn’t found it.

“You gonna see to those rabbits,” she asked, “or are you just waiting for the skin to fall off by itself?”

“I take it that means you’re hungry?”

“I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

He rose to his feet and moved to the fire, piling dry twigs on the smoldering embers. “You haven’t eaten for three days,” he corrected. “That’s how long you’ve been sick.”

“Three days?” she echoed in disbelief.

Jake nodded. “The wound wasn’t too bad. The bullet lodged just beneath the skin. It came out pretty clean, but you lost a lot of blood.”

Annie took that all in. Three days. He’d stayed with her and cared for her for three days. She didn’t recall any of it. She vaguely remembered dreaming that Doc Mundy had been with her. Thinking that it had been Doc’s low, soothing voice gently murmuring in her ear; that it had been Doc’s hands touching her body with a cool, soft cloth. Had that been Jake all along, or just a fevered dream? She could ask him, of course, but that would open the conversation to too many other mortifying questions. Better to just let it pass.

In any case, the question she truly wanted answered was why he had stayed with her. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him intently. “Why’d you stick around, mister? You could have taken off with my horse, my deed, my money, and just left me here, but you didn’t. Why? Most men I know would have taken everything they could and run.”

He held her gaze for a long, steady minute. “Maybe you know the wrong men.” He shifted his attention to the fire and slowly stoked the flame. “Then again, maybe I’m just different.”

She greeted his statement with a healthy dose of skepticism. “Every dog has fleas.”

“Well, now, darlin’, that’s a fine way to thank me.”

He shook his head, clearly more amused than offended. Satisfied with the fire, he lifted one of the rabbits and began skinning their dinner. His long, capable fingers moved with quick, clean strokes as he deftly executed the chore. That finished, he skewered the rabbits and held them over the fire.

Realizing it would be fruitless to pursue the subject further, she turned and scanned the horizon. “Any sign of them bandits?”

Jake glanced up, then shook his head. “Nope.”

His hesitation had been slight, but Annie had heard it. Her brows snapped together. “You have any trouble, mister?”

“Nothing that I can’t handle,” he answered vaguely. “You want to wash up before dinner?”

Annie would have argued further, but she just didn’t have it in her. After three days of being ill, she felt bone weary, stiff, and sore. She set Cat aside and rose to her feet. Her fatigue must have shown on her face, for Jake was instantly at her side, supporting her arm as she stood.

“Easy now. It might take you a day or two until you get your legs back.”

His breath was a featherlike whisper that tickled her ear, all spicy and soft. She felt the rough fabric of his pants brush against her thigh and realized with a start that she was standing next to him without her britches. The realization jerked her back to her senses. Confident that she had gained enough of her balance to stand on her own, she moved away from him.

“Better let me check that bandage for you,” he said.

She shook her head. “It’s fine. I feel just fine.”

He smiled in that slow, lazy way of his. “What are you afraid of, darlin’?”

You
, she thought. Specifically the idea of him brushing his large, rugged hands over her skin. But she’d sooner kiss a grizzly on the lips than admit it. “I appreciate what you done for me, mister, but I can take care of myself from here on out.” That said, she instantly felt better. She glanced around the campsite for her belongings. “You hide my bag somewhere?”

He pointed to a path that led down a gently sloping hill. “You’ll find everything you need down by the creek at the base of that hill. Dulcie and Weed are tethered there as well.” He watched her, frowning as she moved unsteadily away from him. “You want me to help you?”

“I can walk just fine,” she answered. “Next thing you know, you’ll be wanting to bathe me.”

Jake crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing her consideringly. His lips curved into a devilish smile that made his ice-blue eyes shimmer with seductive fire. “Only if you insist, darlin’.”

An unsteadiness that had nothing to do with her wound spread through her limbs. She tilted her chin and turned away, trying her best to make a dignified exit.
Bathe me, indeed
, she swore silently to herself.
Keep it up, Annie girl, and he’s gonna think you suggested it on purpose.

Which she absolutely, positively, did not.

Definitely not.

It was impossible to even consider.

Just because the man had eyes that were deeper and more mysterious than any sea, a smile so smooth he could lure the devil himself into church on Sunday, a chest so broad you could fit a map of Texas on it, and tighter hindquarters than a range-ridden stallion —

Annie?
she said to herself.

What?

Shut up!

Jake sat with a fallen log at his back, a whiskey bottle between his legs, and a deck of cards in his hand. Normally he would have been eager to move on, but he deliberately slowed the pace for Annie. A week had passed since she had been shot. She had been unconscious for three days, followed by four days for her to rest and recuperate. Although by all appearances her wound was healing nicely, he didn’t want to push her. Too much strain or activity and her side might just open up again.

He was also waiting for a break in the weather. A hazy mist shrouded the trees, enveloping everything in a thick, damp fog. The weather had been like that for days, and the unrelenting dampness was beginning to grate on his nerves. He had hung a few blankets in the branches of the trees above them for shelter, and a low fire was burning, but the effect was still drearily oppressive. A restless inertia settled over him like the fog, leaving him listless and bored.

He glanced across their camp. Annie sat just a few yards away, a book in her hands and Cat in her lap. Judging by her expression, she was growing restless as well. As he watched, Cat peeked out from beneath the folds of Annie’s coat. The persnickety feline wrinkled her nose in distaste at the inclement weather and issued an ill-humored hiss at the world in general. She arched her back and stood, her crooked tail cocked haughtily in the air as she trotted off into the woods.

Annie watched her go, then surprised Jake by moving to sit across from him. For the most part, they’d spent the past couple of days keeping to themselves. Now he welcomed the distraction of her company, and she was apparently of the same mind.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Bored, mostly. Edgy.”

Whatever her faults, the woman wasn’t one for beating around the bush. “I meant, how’s your side?” he clarified. She’d refused to let him check the wound since she had regained consciousness.

“Oh. Feels like a bee sting, that’s all.”

“Any swelling? Discoloration?”

She shook her head.

“Good. In that case, if you’re ready, we’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

“Fine.” She studied him in silence, her brows drawn together in obvious disapproval.

“What?” he said.

“You drink too much.”

Jake let out a mournful sigh. “Spare me your lecture on the evils of spirits, will you?”

“I was just stating a plain fact. No need to get so testy.”

He brought the bottle to his lips, taking another swig. “All right, then, what do you suggest we do in such God-awful weather?”

“I don’t know. I reckon we could just talk to each other.”

He arched one dark brow. “What a novel idea.”

She frowned. “Were you born talking fancy, mister?”

“I was born, darlin’, in a one-room shack in a town that settled itself on a swamp off the banks of the Mississippi and lacked the common sense to move.”

“You didn’t come from some rich, highfalutin’ family?” she asked, clearly surprised.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Annie studied him again, as though seeing him in a new light. “What were they like? Your folks, I mean.”

Jake shrugged, feeling expansive on the whiskey. He wasn’t drunk, he just had a good, warm glow. “My father was a big, brawling riverboat captain who ferried freight along the Mississippi. He taught me to fight, he taught me to drink, and when I was thirteen, he introduced me to my first whore.”

Unlike most women, Annie didn’t pretend to be shocked. “What about your mother?” she asked.

“Cajun,” he answered. He twisted the whiskey bottle absently between his palms, losing himself for a moment in his memories. “She was a hot-tempered beauty from an even poorer family than my father’s, but she had higher aspirations. She wanted to be accepted by society, and she did everything she could to make that happen. We weren’t anything but a bunch of lowly river rats, but with her coaching, a little polish, manners, and the right clothing, we actually passed for a respectable household. Truth is, darlin’, people see what you want them to see; rarely do they look beyond the immediate facade.”

Annie’s eyes flashed with sudden interest. “You think I could do that?”

“Do what?”

“Turn myself around, like you did. Put on airs and make myself some grand, fancy-talking lady. Maybe gussy up real fine in one of them swooshy-skirted dresses, put one of them bird’s-nest hats on my head, and carry one of them fancy little lace umbrellas.”

“Parasols.”

She ignored the correction. “What do you think?” she pressed. “Could someone like me do that too?”

Jake shrugged. It sounded like a complete waste of time to him, but maybe the desire to dress up and play the part of a grand society dame was a universal urge in all women. “Why the sudden craving to fit into high society?”

“It ain’t sudden at all,” Annie corrected. “If I’m gonna be the new owner of The Palace Hotel, I got to know what’s proper and what ain’t.” She pulled the familiar careworn advertising circular from within her coat pocket and waved it in his direction. “See here? This says the hotel is available exclusively for the use of distinguished ladies and gentlemen.
Distinguished
, it says.
The finest resort in the West
, it says. I bet they got those crystal chandeliers, fancy paintings, thick carpets, china dishes, velvet drapes on all the windows, four-poster beds with feather mattresses, and the like. Since I’m the new owner, I reckon I got to be as snooty and my manners as highfalutin as the folks that’ll be staying there.”

“I see you’ve given it some thought,” Jake replied, eyeing her consideringly. Not only was that the most the woman had ever said in one breath, but she appeared to mean every word.

“I’ve been studying up on it too,” she continued proudly. She lifted the slim leather-bound volume she had been reading, allowing him a view of the rich gilt cover.
Winston’s Guide to Proper Etiquette and Deportment for Refined Young Ladies of All Ages.

He nodded, recognizing the book. “You enjoying it?”

Annie made a face. “Not enjoying it exactly, but at least I’m learning the rules.”

“The rules?”

“High-society rules. I had no idea there were so many.” She opened the book and read aloud, “‘A proper lady never speaks to a gentleman to whom she has not been introduced. A proper lady never finishes everything on her plate. A proper lady never laughs too loud or offers an opinion on anything other than sewing or child rearing, even when asked. A proper lady never accepts money from a gentleman under any circumstances. A proper lady never, ever mentions her unmentionables.’”

Annie let out an impatient breath and set down the book. “What exactly is an unmentionable? And if it’s so damned unmentionable, why the hell does he keep mentioning it?”

Jake bit back a smile. “I believe he’s referring to a lady’s undergarments.”

“So if your drawers bunch up too tight or get baggy and start slipping around your ankles, it’s better not to mention it?”

“Generally one attempts to refrain from embarking on discussions of that nature.”

“Oh.” Annie thought for a moment. “Fact is, I might be able to go along with some of his rules if he just explained them a bit. But the way I see it, there’s way too much this Winston fella didn’t take into account.”

“Like what?”

“Well, what if the gentleman tries to steal the lady’s horse? You better believe I’m gonna have a few words to say to him — whether we’ve been properly introduced or not. And if I’m paying my hard-earned money to buy myself some fancy restaurant meal, why the hell shouldn’t I eat every bite? What’s so proper and refined about wasting good food? And if someone asks my opinion, I reckon they want to hear it, don’t you, else why would they ask? And what if a gentleman owes a lady money after a poker game, then it’s all right to take it, isn’t it? Which rules do you reckon oughta come first, the etiquette rules or the poker rules?”