One Texas Night (33 page)

“I don’t care, lady. I just wanted out of there, and you said you wanted to come with me.” He frowned at her. “If you want to go back just tell me, because where we’re headed isn’t going to be easy, and I can make better time without you. I left the mailbag inside. They can bargain for their lives with it, but I don’t think any one of them would worry about you.”

The woman proved she was not a fool. She said simply, “I want to stay with you.”

He tugged his coat around her shoulders. “We got an hour, maybe more if this rain doesn’t let up. We need to get as far away from here as possible before they notice we’re gone.”

She nodded.

“Any way you can shed a few of those skirts? They’re going to get heavy once they get wet.”

He’d expected her to argue, but she said, “Turn around.”

The petticoats rustled as they fell to the floor. He fought the urge to glance back.

“I’ve practical shoes in my carpetbag,” she said, pointing at the stage, halfway between the barn and the station.

He thought of telling her they didn’t have time, but a minute probably wouldn’t matter. Their chances of making it away were so slight, the odds wouldn’t change much just because she switched shoes. He trudged out to the coach and grabbed her bag along with the extra Winchester the driver must have forgotten. He thought of taking a horse, but the animals were exhausted and someone from the station might notice a horse being unhitched and led away.

When he got back, she had pulled her wild hair down out of a ridiculous nest of curls and was braiding it in one long, midnight braid. The woman was practical.

“Ready, Anna?”

As she shoved her feet into lace-up leather boots, she said, “My name is Annalane.”

“All right.” He watched her, thinking he liked looking at her more than listening to her. The quick Northern accent grated on him. “If you can’t keep up . . .”

“I’ll keep up,” she said. She didn’t seem one inch shorter. The woman reminded him of a willow. He smiled, remembering how he didn’t have to lean down to kiss her; he only had to turn his head to cover her mouth with his.

McCord tossed her worthless hat in the hay. “I won’t leave you, Anna, don’t worry. But tell me if you need to slow down.”

“I’ll keep up,” she repeated without commenting on how he’d just thrown away the only hat she’d ever thought looked good on her. She packed up her carpetbag and moved it behind her as if she thought he might toss it as well.

He smiled. The woman wasn’t far from wrong. He might have tried if he’d had the chance.

They walked out the back of the little barn and headed into a stand of trees that wound along a stream now busting its banks. Anyone watching the station would have had to be within three feet of them to notice them passing.

He’d expected her to slow him down, but she matched his steps. They moved for two hours, with her never more than a few steps behind him. When he climbed, he’d turn and offer his hand. She’d accept the help only as long as needed, then let go. She never complained.

The rain now became their ally, blanketing the sounds, erasing footprints.

He left the stream reluctantly and moved into the rocky hills. If he remembered correctly, they could cross over on foot and save a few miles. The boulders also offered some protection. The outlaws would have to leave their horses if they decided to follow on the uneven ground.

She bumped into him from behind. “Sorry,” she said, sounding out of breath.

McCord turned. “How about we stop for a few minutes.” It had been almost twenty-four hours since either of them had slept.

“I’m fine.” She lifted her chin.

He grinned. “I know, but I’m a little tired. Ten minutes’ rest and then we’ll climb some more.”

They moved between two huge stones and found enough shelter to avoid the rain. It was so dark he could barely make out her outline, huddled on a rock a few feet off the ground, but he could hear her teeth rattling. Pulling his flask from his pocket, he offered her a drink and was surprised when she took it.

When she handed the flask back, he told her to turn around and lift her feet out of the tiny trickle of water that streamed between the boulders. When she followed orders without speaking, he straddled the rock she sat on and pulled her back against his chest. “I’ll rest on the rock, you rest on me. We won’t be very comfortable, but we won’t be as cold.”

She hesitated, then leaned back against him. He propped the rifle at his side and circled her with his arms. She felt as stiff as stone.

“Relax, Anna, I’m not going to attack you.”

“I know,” she said without relaxing.

“How do you know?” He smiled at her in the dark. “I’ve already done it once tonight.”

“You had to do that to plan our escape. I shouldn’t have taken offense.” She leaned into him just a little. “I’m surprised it worked. I’m not the kind of woman men lose their heads over. You’d think one of those three would have noticed.”

It took his tired brain awhile to figure out what she was saying. She didn’t think of herself as attractive.

He wanted to argue, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t believe him. Slowly she warmed in his arms, and he felt the moment she relaxed into sleep. Her body seemed to melt against him. He shifted so that her head rested on his shoulder, then ran his hand down her leg from hip to calf. He told himself he was just seeing how wet her clothes were, but he knew something else drove him. He liked the nearness of this woman more than he’d ever liked any of the saloon girls who’d wiggled up to him wearing only their underwear.

“Sleep, Anna,” he said against her hair. “I’ll watch over you.” He tightened his arms and she cuddled closer.

After holding her for a long while, he tilted her head up. It was time they moved on. The rain had stopped and it would be light before long. They needed to be on the other side of the hill before then.

McCord looked down, wondering how to wake a woman who’d spent the night resting next to him. Her mouth was slightly open. Her warm breath fanned across his face.

He didn’t even think of resisting the urge to taste her. He pulled her close and nibbled her bottom lip.

One taste was not enough.

Chapter 3

Annalane came awake one sense at a time—the warmth of someone close, the smell of rain, the feel of someone kissing her the way she’d always longed to be kissed.

Her body jerked as reality shot through her. The taste of whiskey blended in with the kiss that demanded she respond. His hands were beneath her arms, as if he’d pulled her up over his body, and his palms pushed against the sides of her breasts when she tried to breathe. He shifted his mouth and she felt the stubble of the beginnings of a beard as his tongue parted her lips, demanding entry.

Opening her eyes, she saw nothing but midnight shadows and the dark outline of the Ranger. She lifted her hand to shove him away, but he circled his arm and caught it, tucking it behind her back as he pulled her closer still.

“Not yet,” he whispered against her tender lips. “I can’t let you go yet.” His arms were iron around her. “I haven’t had near enough.”

She knew she should pull away and demand he stop, but no one had ever kissed her with such desire, with such need, with such passion. Relaxing, she let the fire of it sweep over her.

He felt her surrender and slowed. The kiss went from demanding to teaching, as he silently showed her what he wanted and rewarded her with bold strokes of his hands along her body as she learned each lesson.

For the first time in her life, she was mindless, floating in gentle waves of pleasure. The way he tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth, the way he held her so close and kissed her throat when he gave her time to catch her breath, then pulled her mouth back to his as if starving once more.

When his hand finally passed over the fabric covering her breast, she arched and cried out. He laughed against her mouth, then kissed her deep and long, not giving her time to react or even think.

“You taste so good,” he whispered with his mouth still on hers. “It’ll take me a long time to get enough of you, Anna.”

Before she could answer he was kissing her again and she was welcoming his touch. Somehow in the nowhere of this land she could let down her guard and just react.

The sound of a horse, ridden fast, drifted into their world.

McCord groaned and pulled away. “Stay here,” he ordered as he shoved her farther into the shadows and disappeared.

Annalane sat perfectly still, listening to her own heart pound. What had she just done? She could still taste him on her lips, still feel his warmth against her body. The grip of his fingers over her breast now burned through the layers of cloth. What had she done?

The fear of being killed by a band of outlaws no longer frightened her near as dearly as the fear of facing the Ranger when daylight came. She’d behaved like a wanton woman and he’d . . . he’d patted her on the bottom as he’d left her. No man had ever done that! All her life she’d never allowed anything so wild to happen. He had no right to . . .

“Are you all right?” His words drifted in the night. He sounded almost angry, as if in a hurry for an answer.

She nodded, then realized he probably couldn’t see her. “I’m fine,” she lied, wishing she could crawl back under the rock for a few minutes, or days, or maybe years.

His hand brushed her arm, then found her fingers and gripped tightly. “We have to move fast, Anna. We need to be over the ridge by dawn. I couldn’t tell who was on that horse riding by below, but I don’t think it will be long before more follow.”

He didn’t give her time to answer; he just tugged her out of the shadow of the boulder and began climbing. The rain had turned to a mist making her feel like she was moving in a dream.

She kept moving, trying not to think. Maybe she’d get lucky and they wouldn’t make the ridge, and the outlaws would shoot them down. At least then she wouldn’t have to face him. Never, never, never had she allowed a man to touch her the way he had. The only other kiss she’d truly received had been at her wedding. There had been no time or privacy for more.

She thought of how hard the Ranger’s face had looked, even when he’d slept in the stagecoach, chiseled like weathered granite. How cold his eyes were.

How demanding his kiss. How bold his hands. She mentally slapped herself for letting her mind wander.

He’d advanced so fast she hadn’t been able to think about how to reject him. This was all his fault. She should have nothing to be ashamed of.

If the man would slow down now, Annalane swore she would kill him. What right did he think he had to kiss her like that? To touch her. To wake her up to something she told herself she had been perfectly happy not knowing about.

Her anger stewed as she climbed. She barely noticed the eastern sky lighten. They were at the ridge by the time dawn washed over the rocks.

McCord jumped down off a rock and turned, lifting his arms to catch her. He swung her around. “We made it.”

A smile lit his face, making him look younger—closer to thirty, not forty as she’d first guessed. Despite her anger and exhaustion, she smiled. They were safe, at least for now.

He set her on her feet, took her hand as if he’d done so a thousand times, and started down the shadowy side of the hill.

Halfway down, he stopped to allow her to catch her breath. While she rested against a cold rock, he searched the valley below.

“The driver told me you were going to meet your brother at Camp Supply.”

She nodded as she fought exhaustion.

“He’ll know the stage didn’t make it in last night, and I’m guessing troops will be headed this way. If I’d been waiting for you, I’d be an hour in the saddle by now, maybe more.”

If Devin hadn’t planned to introduce her at dinner last night, she doubted he’d even notice she was missing. He was more likely to wait and blame her for being late than come after her, but Annalane didn’t want to admit that to McCord.

The Ranger kept watching. “On horseback they could cut some time off the stage trail and be here in an hour, two at the most.”

Annalane closed her eyes, wishing the driver hadn’t been so nosy, but a woman traveling alone was a rare sight in these parts, and she thought it would help if he knew she had someone waiting to meet her. It might make her sound not quite so like an old maid. At least she hadn’t told the driver more. She never told anyone the truth. What would people say, or believe, if she told them that her brother never contacted her unless he needed something from her? She swore that ever since he could talk he’d manipulated everyone around him. Life was some kind of game and people just cards to play to him.

She sniffed, thinking she was really pathetic. Even knowing what he was like, she’d traveled half a continent hoping that this time he’d act like a real brother. Maybe for once he was thinking of her, alone in Washington, and not just himself.

I will not cry,
she silently vowed.
I will not cry.

McCord startled her when he stomped back to where she stood. All she could manage was to glare at him when he cleared his throat.

“About last night . . .” he started, forcing out the words as if he were reading his own obituary.

“I don’t want to talk about last night,” she hissed through her teeth to keep from screaming.