The Outlaw and the Lady (5 page)

But he did intake a sharp breath when she trailed her fingers over the ragged edges of mutilated flesh. “I’m just going to…” She swallowed in an attempt to stop the tingling in her jaw. “I’m going to prod around just to make sure there’s no bits of cloth…” Oh, God. A bullet created such an ugly mess.

When she was certain she’d done her best to clean the wound, she jabbed the needle into his
skin. She thought she might have preferred something from him other than stoicism. “I’m sorry. I know it must hurt.” Her voice quivered but at least her hands were steady.

What sort of man was Lee Raven? She knew he’d been put out with her for taking his gun and holding it on him, but he’d never hinted that she’d shot him. He’d never raised his voice or his hand to her. If someone had shot her…he would have faced her unmerciful wrath. The man was a contradiction to all she knew about him, all she believed.

Leaning close, she bit off the end of the thread and then proceeded to tie it off. She heard him exhale slowly. She stuck the needle into her waistband before reaching for the end of her skirt.

“Here, use my shirt,” he ordered, and thrust the chambray garment into her hands.

When she’d lost her sight, her fingertips had become her eyes. She’d wanted to again know all that she’d once seen. She’d learned to identify all sorts of textures and shapes, making her family crazy as she requested item after item, hungry for the feel of everything, desperate to rebuild a world that she’d lost—the only thing that now eluded her was color. She missed it with a passion.

She handed his shirt back to him. She opened her kit, removed more thread, retrieved her needle, and proceeded to thread it. “I’ll do the other side now.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t suppose you have any whiskey.”

“You drink?”

“My father owns a saloon. Of course I drink.”

He released a quick burst of laughter. “I think your father should have had a son.”

She smiled warmly. “But my mother wanted daughters, and he usually gives her what she wants. Whiskey?”

“No.”

Her smile faded as she touched his arm and located the other side of his wound where the bullet had torn a larger hole going out. “I suppose you’re going to try and tell me that the notorious Lee Raven doesn’t drink,” she chided.

“I don’t.”

She paused in disbelief. “You’ve never been drunk.”

“No.”

Incredible. She’d never met a man who hadn’t indulged in too much liquor on at least one occasion. She touched his arm.

“Have you?” he asked.

She halted, her fingers resting against his flesh. “Been drunk?”

“
Sí
.”

She smiled at the memory. “In celebration of my sixteenth birthday, my two younger sisters and I snuck a bottle of whiskey out of the saloon and proceeded to gulp down the contents. Then abruptly brought it all back up. Since then, I drink a little more cautiously.”

Once again, he hissed through his teeth as she began working. When she was finished stitching, she tore off another section of her petticoat and wrapped it around his arm, tying it to protect the wound. “There. All done.”

She pushed the needle into her waistband and reached for her skirt. Raven stopped her, taking her hands in one of his and holding them out. She heard the swishing of water and then felt the warm trickle as he washed the blood from her hands.

“Your precious water,” she murmured.

“We’ll find more tomorrow.”

He again used his shirt to dry her hands, gently, as though her hands were fragile and he feared breaking them. She felt tears sting her eyes. It had been such a grueling day and she was incredibly weary. She did not want him to treat her kindly.

When he moved away, she slid her needle into her sewing kit before lying down on the blankets. Hearing his movements as he slipped on his shirt, she rolled onto her side and brought her knees up. She still couldn’t fathom that she’d actually shot him or understand why he hadn’t taken her to task for it.

He stretched out beside her and placed his arm around her. He tucked something beneath her hand. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling as some of the loneliness receded. Closing her fingers around her deck of cards, she pressed them against her chest. “Why didn’t you get mad when I shot you?” she dared to ask.

“I was furious, but I understand your desire to escape. Besides, a man does not take his anger out on a woman.”

The night enveloped them in the intimacy of darkness, bringing him into a world she’d inhab
ited for too many years. Tonight the moon was but a sliver in the sky. She knew because each evening she took a mental note of its phase. She might be blind, but she refused to be ignorant of the world around her. She’d have an advantage tonight if she decided to slip away after Raven fell asleep.

“This friend of your father’s,” he said quietly, startling her from her reverie. “This Christian Montgomery. Have you ever met him?”

“Of course,” she replied, wondering why he would bring up this subject now.

“I know this man. Not personally, of course, but I read his story.
The Texas Ranger Who Didn’t Wear a Gun
. He is amazing.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Did you know that at one time he was a marshal? Many, many years ago, they wrote a book about him called
The Marshal Who Didn’t Wear a Gun
. I could never find it.”

Angela opened her mouth slightly. The notorious Lee Raven sought out books?

“Is there someone in Fortune besides your father who will be worried about you?” he asked after several long moments of silence.

“My mother, my sisters.”

His chest rumbled against her back as he chuckled.

“I meant a man.”

Her father’s friend Grayson Rhodes would be livid. He’d probably come in search of her, but she didn’t think he was referring to him. He was asking if she had a beau. She contemplated lying, but saw no advantage to it. “No.”

“Good.”

Within that one word, he’d managed to wrap an undeniable sense of possession. She didn’t know why the realization made forbidden sensations swirl through her.

Or why, when she finally managed to drift off to sleep, she dreamt of him. He stood within a thick mist. She couldn’t see his face, and yet, she knew him so well that it was frightening.

L
ee’s left arm ached unmercifully, while his right arm felt nothing at all, not even the heavenly softness of the woman whose head had managed to make his arm numb while she used it as a pillow. An incredible shame, he thought, as he cautiously, slowly, pulled what he hoped was the last pin from her hair. He tossed it into the darkness, to join the others he’d painstakingly located and removed. Her hair was incredibly thick, amazingly silky, and very abundant. Long. He was certain it would reach past the small dip in her lower back.

She snuggled closer against him. He suppressed a groan and balled his hand into a fist to stop it from cradling her face. He did not want to wake her because the moment she became aware of the way she’d burrowed into him as she slept,
she would move away from him with the speed of a bullet fired from a gun.

She looked peaceful, her soft features limned by the pale, forgiving light of the moon and a million stars. While she was blissfully unaware of the way her body betrayed her, he relished the gentle swells flattened against the planes of his hard chest. He’d barely breathed when she’d first turned into him, fearful of disturbing her, of losing this moment of holding a woman close.

Five years ago, he’d made the decision to travel a lonely path in the name of retribution, but until now, the loneliness had never seemed so deep, the sacrifice so great. During all the long, solitary nights of imagining, he’d never dreamed that embracing a woman while she slept would bring with it such a measure of completeness.

Despite his reputation, in spite of her wariness, she had to trust him a little or her breathing would have never evened out, grown shallow, and become as lyrical as a lullaby. It lulled him into a serenity he wasn’t certain he’d ever experienced, made him long for a life that he knew he could never possess.

“Lee?” Alejandro whispered harshly.

“Shh. She’s sleeping,” he murmured, skimming his fingers over the magnificent tresses. He wanted to see the morning sunlight turn them into flames.

“It’s been two hours,” Alejandro pointed out unnecessarily.

She sighed, stretched, and turned away from him. If Alejandro were not crouched nearby, Lee
might have followed and wrapped himself around her, anything to retain the false peace a little longer. Instead, he rolled into a sitting position and pushed himself to his feet. The sun was barely beginning to ease over the horizon. Rubbing his arm, he glanced at the woman. How did she measure the day?

“What’s wrong with that arm?” Alejandro asked. “I thought she shot the other one.”

“She slept on it. It’s just numb…and keep your voice down.” He walked to the edge of the clearing, ignored the prickling in his right arm, and watched as sunlight began to bathe the sky in various hues of orange, pink, and blue, Angela’s favorite color. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken pleasure in the arrival of dawn.

“How is the wound?”

He clenched his left fist and twisted his arm slightly. “Tender, but I’ll survive.”

“You should have let me treat it yesterday.”

He remembered Alejandro voicing his objection when Lee had first ordered them to ride out. “You worry like an ancient woman, Alejandro.”

“Because you do not. Take off your shirt and I’ll tend to it now.”

“Angela already did. She sewed it up last night.” With a gentle touch that he would remember long after they slipped a noose around his neck.

“You trusted her with a needle in her hand?”

“
Loco
, I know, but I thought she felt guilty.” An emotion he knew only too well, but understood not at all. “I wanted her to be able to sleep.”

“Unlike you, who can never sleep. I don’t know whose nightmares are worse, yours or Juanita’s.”

“Juanita’s,” he murmured without hesitation. His dear, sweet, little sister’s cries in the night tore at his soul.

“Yet the dreams are the same, aren’t they?”

“No, they are very different and I don’t want to talk about them.” Crouching, he rested his elbows on his thighs.

“What do you think you are doing? We need to ride,” Alejandro said, his voice edged with impatience.

“Angela is sleeping well. A few more moments won’t make a difference.”

Kneeling beside him, Alejandro extended his hat. “Your face is burned. Use my sombrero today.”

Lee shook his head. “She is a smart one. She has already guessed too much. I do not need to confirm what she suspects.”

“Another day without the protection of some shade, and you are going to blister. You do not have Juanita’s salve to ease the pain of a burn.”

A natural healer, Juanita wasn’t gifted enough to heal herself.

“Be cautious, and she will never know you are wearing my hat,” Alejandro continued.

Reluctantly acknowledging the truth of Alejandro’s words, Lee took his brother’s offering and settled it into place. “
Gracias
.”

“Don’t thank me. She is causing you to take chances that will get your neck stretched.”

“I killed a man, Alejandro. Perhaps I
deserve
to get my neck stretched.” He pulled a blade of grass from the earth and slipped it between his teeth. “She called me a vicious murderer.”

“Juanita calls you a savior.”

“I am not a savior. I got there too late to save her.” Lee knew that night haunted her, would always haunt her more than it did the others. She was not the child she had once been or the young woman she should have become. He unfolded his body. “I am going to find us something to eat. When the sun is a little higher, we’ll risk a small fire.”

“Because you don’t want our captive to go hungry?” Alejandro ground out at his retreating back.

Lee neither broke his stride nor answered because the truth was that he was simply growing weary of battling the demons that plagued him.

Angela awoke to the tantalizing aroma of cooking fish. Her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled. She sat up and her hair tumbled around her. With a tiny gasp, she thrust her hands into her hair, searching for her pins. Not a single one remained. She began patting the area of the blanket where her head had been resting—

“You won’t find them,” Raven said quietly.

With a little shriek, she twisted around. “You removed the pins from my hair?”

“
Sí
.”

“Why did you do that?”

His answer was silence, as though she should know the reason and was dense for asking.

“Do you have a comb?”

“No.”

“I should have expected that outlaws are not overly concerned with hygiene.”

“Outlaws do not have hair as long as yours. We can just use our fingers to keep it in place. Would you like me to comb your hair?”

“With your fingers?”

“
Sí
.”

His voice had suddenly grown thick, tight. Her breathing became erratic with the thought of him raking his fingers through her hair, long fingers that had pressed against her stomach before she’d fallen asleep. “No, that’s not necessary. Do you at least have something with which I can tie it back?”

“My filthy bandanna.”

She held out her hand. “I suppose I can make do with that.” He laid the cloth on her palm. It was still warm, and she realized it had been resting against his throat. It didn’t seem quite so filthy, now that it wasn’t going into her mouth. Besides, with it around her hair, it couldn’t be around her wrists. He wasn’t such a smart outlaw after all, she thought smugly.

“If I wanted to bind you,
señorita
, I could use one of my brothers’ bandannas.”

She jerked the soft cloth into a knot. “What are you? A mind reader?”

“It is as I said, you have very expressive eyes.”

The bandanna in place, her hair out of her face, she folded her hands on her lap. “Does this mean you don’t intend to keep me tied up today?”

“As long as you behave.”

She nodded. “How is your wound?”

“Much better, thanks to your tender ministrations.”

She didn’t want to think about touching him, about how hot he had been, how smooth, how firm. “Is that breakfast I smell?”

“So I do not have to convince you to eat this morning? That is good.”

He set a plate on her lap. She plucked a bit of meat free with her fingers and popped it into her mouth. She’d never tasted anything so delicious in her life. Amazing, how being starved could change one’s perception of things. In truth, the fish was dry, overcooked. She could feel his gaze honing in on her. She despised the way it unsettled her. “So you took me because you thought I’d seen your face?”

“
Sí
.”

“Your likeness isn’t on a wanted poster?”

“No, until last night I was clever at hiding my identity, not only for my protection, but for the protection of others. There are men who would do anything to discover what I look like. You need to eat more quickly so we can leave.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I will bind you.”

She began shoveling the food into her mouth, hoping that she’d at least managed to delay him enough that today, at some point, he would be willing to leave her behind.

Lee brought his horse to a halt. Nestled snugly between his thighs, Angela eased forward slightly.
She apparently welcomed every opportunity to move away from him. He searched for any chance to hold her close, an incredibly dangerous preoccupation. He had more pressing matters to worry about. Such as the posse that was getting ominously closer.

At least today Angela was not asking to stop every twenty minutes for a moment of privacy. As a matter of fact, she had not asked once. He could only assume that she was experiencing a measure of guilt for shooting him and might behave for the duration of the journey. Inwardly he chuckled. He was no fool: if she thought she could gain her freedom, she would do whatever she needed to obtain it.

He studied the rugged terrain surrounding him. This place was as good as any. “
Hombres
, we are going to split up.”

“But you said we would stay together,” Jorge pointed out.

“I changed my mind. Those men either are after me, or they want to rescue the woman—”

“The
woman
has a name,” she cut in.

He really needed to put the fear of God into her, or, failing that, at least the fear of himself. “It is rude to interrupt,
señorita
.”

“You think it’s polite to drag me where I don’t want to be?” she asked sarcastically.

“You are getting much too bold.” And she had been ever since she’d awakened from her four-hour sleep. When she’d sat up, just as he’d anticipated, her hair had tumbled around her. Glorious. His gut had clenched with desire, and it had yet to loosen.

“Then leave me,” she threw out.

“We have discussed this matter. I am not leaving you.” She shifted in the saddle, causing the ache in his groin to intensify. It was all he could do not to groan aloud.

“How close are they?” she asked.

“They are hours behind us.” He slid his gaze from her delicate profile to his brothers, circled around him. He did not like the speculative look on Alejandro’s face. “We separate here. You three ride together.
The woman
and I will travel in the opposite direction until I think it is safe to circle back around.”

“Have you considered that those might be Shelby’s men?” Alejandro asked.

He had not only considered it, but he thought it highly likely—the reason for selecting a bank far from the Mexico border. He’d heard that Shelby assumed they sought refuge on the other side of the Rio Grande. This bank had given them days in unfamiliar territory, and only one man had been standing watch at the bank because they hadn’t wanted to capture him there. They wanted to catch him out in the open, away from witnesses.

“They will be unmerciful,” Alejandro said, as though he understood the conclusion Lee had reached.

“First, they must take me prisoner…alive…and that will not happen. Once they have lost the scent, I will return
the woman
”—he smiled as within his arms she stiffened with righteous
indignation—“to Fortune. If you do not see me within a month, you know what to do.”

Alejandro hesitated before nodding briskly. “I give you my word that I will see that all is done as we planned.”

Lee lifted the reins. “Then I will see you at home.
Vaya con dios
.”

He nudged his horse into a gallop. The woman settled back against him. His horse was the strongest of the lot, but even he could not continue at a gallop indefinitely. A shame.

Home
. Angela had expected Raven to tell his brothers that he’d meet them at a hideout. She’d never expected him to talk about home as though it was a place of fond memories and love.

She’d heard his brothers’ horses gallop away shortly after Raven had urged his own into a dust-rising pace. They hadn’t traveled long before she noticed the horse straining to work its way up. She couldn’t be certain if they were ascending a rise, a hill, or a small mountain. She only knew that the terrain forced her to sink into Raven. She wished he weren’t so tantalizing…that he could make her want to recoil instead of immerse herself more deeply into the sturdiness he offered.

The horse gained its footing at the top of the climb. Raven dismounted and helped her down. She no longer stiffened at his touch.

“Walk around,
señorita
. We will be on the horse for a long time.”

She heard ground shift, rocks pop from be
neath the tread of his feet. Silence. Then the crack of his knees. She followed the sound and knelt beside him. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I want to make sure the men pick up our trail and not my brothers’.”

“What will you do if they follow your brothers?”

“I will have to go back and kill them,” he said in a distracted voice, and she could imagine him scanning the horizon, searching for a sign of the riders.

“How many men are there?”

“Eight.”

Would her father send that many? He’d probably send the entire male population of Texas. “You honestly think you could kill them all?” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”