The Angel and the Outlaw (13 page)

Muttering an oath, J.T. closed his eyes again. Faith, he thought ruefully. He’d never had faith in anyone but himself.

And look where that got you.

J.T. snorted softly. Just what he needed, a guardian angel with a wry sense of humor.

Have faith…

The voice again, louder this time. The wind stirred. A moonbeam moved over J.T. and settled on his right arm. He stared at the light, swore under his breath as the handcuff on his right wrist opened with a quiet click.

“What the….”

Faith, J.T..

J.T.’s gaze moved over the camp. The lawmen were all asleep; he could hear their snores. Even the night guard was sleeping soundly.

His gaze lingered on Brandy. He’d been a fool to suggest she help him escape. And he was a fool to stand there wishing he could take her with him.

Moving quietly, he stood up and crossed the camp toward the horses. Moments later, he had the bay saddled and ready to go. Tiptoeing toward the nearest deputy, he took the lawman’s rifle, then helped himself to a couple of canteens and a sack of provisions.

“I know, I know,” he murmured as he slid the rifle into the saddle scabbard and hung the canteens over the horn, “
thou shalt not steal.
”

He had just buckled on the gunbelt when he realized he wasn’t alone. Gun in hand, J.T. whirled around. And came face to face with Brandy.

“J.T.!” she exclaimed. “How’d you get loose?”

“There’s no time to talk about that now,” he whispered, knowing she’d never believe him if he told her. He glanced over his shoulder. “And keep your voice down.”

“I’m going with you.”

He squashed the quick surge of joy he felt at her words. “No, Brandy. It’s too dangerous now.”

“I said I’m going with you.”

“Yeah? Sure you don’t want to stay here and help Hawkins settle the West?”

“What?”

“You heard me!” J.T. whispered furiously. “He’s been hanging on you like a wet blanket.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“It’s true, and you know it.”

“We really don’t have time to stand here and argue about this,” Brandy remarked.

“No, we don’t. I’m leaving.”

“You might need this.”

Her voice stopped him in mid-stride. Turning, he stared at her outstretched hand. Moonlight glinted off the barrel of a Colt revolver.

Without a word, he saddled the pinto and tossed her the reins. He didn’t help her mount, didn’t look back to see if she followed him. He just gathered up the lead ropes of the deputies’ horses and rode into the darkness.

He knew, without looking back, that she followed him.

They rode until dawn, then took shelter in a small cave cut into the side of a rock-strewn hill. J.T. had turned the other horses loose long since. Now, he tethered the pinto and the bay out of sight, then went back and brushed out their prints as best he could. A good tracker would have been able to pick up their trail without much trouble, but Hawkins didn’t have a good tracker with him.

Brandy had a small fire going when he returned to the cave. She turned at his approach, her black hair swirling around her shoulders like a fall of ebony silk. She looked like a creature of the forest dressed in doeskin and firelight. J.T. stared at her, his throat tight, his hands clenched at his sides. Right or wrong, for an hour or a lifetime, he wanted her, ached for her. Yearned for her, as he had yearned for nothing else in his life.

“Brandy…”

She took a step toward him, hesitated a moment, and then held out her arms. And he went to her. Willingly. Eagerly.

She gazed up at him. “Does it hurt very much?”

He stared at her blankly. “What?”

“Your face? Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

She started to back away, but he pulled her into his arms, the pain caused by Lockwood swallowed up by his need for Brandy.

He murmured her name as he caressed her cheek, and then he bent his head and claimed her lips with his.

Her arms slipped around his neck to draw him closer, and he felt the softness of her body press against the hardness of his.

“I think I love you,” J.T. murmured.

“Do you?” She looked up at him, her pleasure at his words evident in her smile.

“I tried not to,” J.T. confessed. He drew her closer, basking in her warmth. “There’s no future for us. You know that, don’t you?”

Brandy nodded, mesmerized by the desire she read in his eyes. She could feel his body pressed to hers, hard and muscular.

“It doesn’t matter.” Nothing mattered but now, she thought, this moment, this man.

Rising on tiptoe, she invited his kiss, reveling in the heat of his mouth on hers, the velvet touch of his tongue as it slid over her lower lip. His hands cupped her buttocks, drawing her closer, leaving no doubt in her mind that he wanted her. And she wanted him.

His hands moved over her, gently possessive, as his kiss deepened. Her eyelids fluttered down and she leaned into him, wanting to be closer, closer. His tongue was like fire, searing, shattering, until she trembled in his arms, mindless, breathless.

He whispered her name over and over again as he drew her down on the bedroll spread beside the fire. He peeled off her moccasins, his hands sliding sinuously along her calves, massaging her instep. His tongue laved her neck, the sensitive skin behind her ear as he unfastened her tunic and slid it over her shoulders, revealing the scrap of black lace that had so often played havoc with his thoughts. Slowly, wanting to savor the moment, he slid the soft doeskin over her hips and down her legs, disclosing the other half of her outlandish undergarments.

His gaze moved over her honey-hued flesh, lingering on her lace-covered breasts. “Beautiful,” he murmured, “so beautiful.”

Murmuring her name, he drew her into his arms, his hands skimming lightly over her back, marveling at the softness of her skin, the way she melted against him. Every whisper, every move, encouraging him as he tucked her beneath him.

Thou shalt not!

Gideon’s voice, as loud as thunder, rumbled in J.T.’s mind.

J.T. groaned. “Not now, Gideon.”

“Gideon again!” Brandy exclaimed, and putting her hands on J.T.’s chest, she pushed him away. “Who is Gideon?”

J.T. blinked at her. “What?”

“You heard me. Who is Gideon?”

“Later, Brandy.”

“No, now. You’ve mentioned him before, and I want to know who he is.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

J.T. let out a deep breath, and then, knowing the mood was broken, at least for the moment, he eased away from Brandy. “He’s an angel. My guardian angel.”

“Angel!” Brandy rolled onto her side, drawing one of the blankets over her nakedness as she glanced around the cave. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish I was.”

She started to say it was impossible, but the words died unspoken in her throat. She had always thought time travel was impossible, too. Until now. “What does he look like? Does he have wings?”

“No wings,” J.T. said. “He was tall. Dressed all in white. He was…” J.T. shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know, it’s hard to describe. He kinda glowed, if you know what I mean.”

Brandy nodded. “Where did you see him?”

“I don’t know where I was. Heaven, maybe, though it seems unlikely. I saw this white light, and then I heard his voice. It was spooky as hell.”

A white light, Brandy thought. People who had been brought back from the dead all talked of a white light and a sense of peace and love. “How did you feel while you were there?”

J.T. frowned. “I don’t know. Warm. Safe.” He looked out into the darkness. He felt foolish, talking like this.

“What else?” Brandy urged, thinking how remarkable it was to be talking to someone who had traveled to the other side of life.

“I felt loved,” J.T. replied quietly. “I knew I hadn’t been forgiven for the kind of life I’ve lived, but I knew that he understood and loved me anyway.”

Brandy felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that it was true. “What happened? What did he say?”

“He said I was being given a second chance to redeem myself.”

“And then what?”

J.T. hesitated, unwilling to tell her that there’d been a time limit on his second chance. “He sort of faded away, and the next thing I knew, you were staring at me.”

“That’s incredible,” Brandy mused, and then she frowned. “But why did you call his name while we were…while we were making love.”

For the first time in more years than he could remember, J.T. felt himself blush. “He’s sort of become my conscience.”

“Your conscience? What do you mean?”

“Lately, whenever I’m about to do something he doesn’t approve of, I hear his voice in my head.”

“Oh.” It made perfect sense, Brandy thought. People in the nineties tended to overlook old-fashioned things, like morality, but an angel would surely frown on physical intimacy without the blessing of the church. She felt her cheeks burn as she wondered what had happened to her own conscience. “How are you supposed to redeem yourself?”

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling kidnapping you and stealing that paint horse wasn’t the best way to start.”

“Probably not,” Brandy agreed with a wry grin. “So, where do we go from here?”

“To find the Lakota.”

“But I want to go home,” Brandy said, hating the plaintive note in her voice but unable to suppress it. “I miss my family, my friends.”

J.T. grunted softly. He had no family to miss, no friends to speak of. “Maybe later.”

She started to argue with him, only to realize that she wanted to stay here, with J.T., more than she wanted to go home.

“From what Deputy Hawkins said, it shouldn’t be hard to find your people,” Brandy remarked.

J.T. nodded. It might not be such a good idea, either, he thought ruefully. If the Lakota were itching for war, they were liable to attack first and ask questions later. But it was a chance he was willing to take. He didn’t understand why it was suddenly so important for him to find his mother’s people, but something inside kept urging him in that direction. “We might as well get some sleep,” J.T. said. “I’d like to get an early start in the morning.”

Brandy shivered. The fire was almost out and she was suddenly cold. And lonely for the touch of J.T.’s arms.

J.T. glanced at Brandy. She was sitting beside him, the blanket drawn up to her chin. For the first time, he noticed that the fire was almost out. “I’d better get some more wood.”

“I’d rather have you keep me warm.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Brandy frowned, and then, with a grin, she turned her back to him and pulled on her tunic. “Better?”

“Better.” He murmured her name as he drew her into his arms, marveling anew at how easily she fit into embrace, how good it felt to hold her close. His lips brushed her cheek, her temple. “I’ve never known anyone quite like you,” he murmured softly.

“Probably not,” Brandy remarked, snuggling against him.

“I don’t mean just because you’re from the future,” J.T. said, chuckling. “But then, I haven’t known many decent women.”

“But you’ve known a lot of women, haven’t you?”

“Depends on what you call a lot.”

“What do
you
call a lot?”

J.T. shrugged. “Fifty, sixty.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You’re kidding!”

“I’m kidding.”

“Have you known a lot of women?”

She didn’t mean as acquaintances, J.T. mused ruefully. She meant it in the Biblical sense. “Not many.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“No.” His fingers delved into her hair, caressed her nape, slid down her back. “Have you?”

“Not really. I thought I was a couple of times, especially when I was growing up. There was a man on the reservation. I was mad for him. He was tall and dark and handsome, rode in the rodeo. I thought he was wonderful.” Brandy paused. Derek Blue Dog had been ten years older than she was. She had been miserable for weeks when Derek married her best friend’s older sister. She’d had crushes after that, but nothing serious until Gary.

“Why aren’t you married, Brandy?” He’d asked her that question before, and she’d refused to answer.

“I guess I’ve been waiting for Prince Charming to come along and carry me off on his horse.” She looked at J.T. pensively, her lips curving in a smile. “You carried me off,” she remarked quietly.

“Yeah. On a stolen horse.”

Brandy met his gaze and knew, in that moment, that she had fallen hopelessly in love with J.T. Cutter.

Slowly, his head lowered toward hers. His eyes, dark and smoldering, filled her vision, shutting out the rest of the world. His kiss was warm and sweet and filled with longing.

She was breathless when it ended.

“I love you,” J.T. murmured, his voice edged with wonder. “I’ve never said those words to anyone else except…” His voice trailed off and he looked away.