Satan's Angel

by Candace Camp

  “Could I try that?” she asked shyly.

  “Of course.”

  Amy knelt on the floor beside Beatriz, and Beatriz showed her how to do it, laughing with her at her mistakes and smiling when she succeeded. Beatriz leaned closer to her. “I am glad you are with Brody. You will be good for him.”

  “I will?” Amy looked up from her task. “Why?”

  “You are a good-hearted woman. You like to laugh. You will make him happy.”

  Amy glanced over at Sam. She thought she would like to make him happy. “Sam is in trouble, isn’t he? That’s why he had those chains on.”

  “Yes. He’s wanted by every lawman and bounty hunter in the state.”

  “Why? He’s not a bad man.”

  “I haven’t seen the bad in him. I don’t think you will, either. With you, he is gentle. But they say he can be hard. They say he is a killer.”

  “Sam?” Amy’s brow wrinkled. She found that hard to believe, and yet… she had seen the cold violence in him when he spoke to Purdon.

  Beatriz nodded. “Raul is as much his friend as any man. But he would never dare to cross Brody.” She paused, then smiled at Amy. “But when a man like that loves you, you need not fear anyone. He will keep you safe.”

  “Yes. I know he will.”

  Across the room, Raul and Sam sat talking, watching the women by the hearth. Raul glanced from the blond girl to his friend, studying the expression on Brody’s face. “She is very pretty.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ve never brought a woman here before.”

  “No.”

  “She is special, no?”

  Brody shrugged. It was a sign of weakness to let a woman mean so much to him, and Brody never revealed weakness. “She was handy, and she looked good, so I took her.”

  “No doubt.” Amusement lifted the corners of Raul’s mouth. “I am sure that is why you watch every move she makes.” Brody shot him a black look, but his friend only chuckled. He sobered, saying, “A woman slows you down when you’re on the run.”

  “Not this one.” Pride settled over Brody’s features. “She can ride hard and fast, and she never complains.”

  Raul grinned. “If that is true, then don’t let her go. I never met a woman who didn’t complain.”

  “She’s different.”

  “I can see.” But Raul was looking at Brody, not Amy. “Well, let’s go out in the back and take off those chains.”

  The two men left. They were gone for a long time, and when they returned, Brody looked different. His manacles had disappeared, and he was dressed in clean clothes. The stubble was gone from his face, and his hair was slicked back and wet. Amy stared at him, her eyes wide. “Oh, my. . . isn’t he handsome?”

  Beatriz’s glance flew from Amy to Brody and back, and she hid a smile. Handsome wasn’t a word she would have used to describe Brody. There were scars on his face where he’d been cut in fights; his nose had been broken; and the sun and wind had weathered his skin. Brody had sexual appeal; Beatriz herself had felt a tug of attraction to him. But it was the pull of raw power and danger, of the untamed animal. It wasn’t the appeal of good looks.

  Amy obviously saw him with different eyes.

  Sam looked everywhere but at Amy. He seemed—well, he seemed the way Amy felt when she walked into a roomful of strangers. But that was silly, wasn’t it? Sam wouldn’t be nervous; there were only his friends here.

  Amy glanced down at herself. Suddenly, she couldn’t bear her dirty, torn clothes and unkempt hair a moment longer. She turned to Beatriz. “Where did he clean up? Could I, too?”

  “Of course you can. There’s a spot in the river that’s perfect for bathing. You can go right after lunch. I’ll lend you the lavender soap Brody bought for me last year in Austin.” Beatriz heaved a giant sigh of pleasure. “It smells heavenly.”

  Amy had always used scented soap to bathe in, and she was used to doing so in a tub indoors. But right now the thought of bathing in the river with lavender-smelling soap seemed like the height of luxury. “Thank you. I would love it.”

  After they ate Beatriz took Amy to the river to bathe, then stood guard with a pistol. It was unlikely that a stranger would chance by, but there was always the possibility of a water moccasin or a wild animal. Amy stripped without shyness in front of Beatriz. She was used to dressing and undressing around Victoria. The river was shallow over the rocky bed, easy for bathing, and though it was cool enough it raised gooseflesh all over her, it was heavenly to be able to be clean again.

  Afterwards she dressed in the clothes Beatriz loaned her—a blouse of plain bleached muslin with a wide, scooped neckline decorated with colorful embroidered flowers and a full skirt of vivid blue, ruffled at the hem. It was shorter than the skirts Amy was used to wearing, reaching only to her ankles instead of sweeping the ground. It felt very strange to be naked beneath the clothes, but she needed to wash her underthings.

  Amy washed her clothes at the edge of the water and Beatriz spread them out on a large rock to dry in the sun, while Amy sat down to comb out her tangled hair. It took a long time, for her hair was hip-length and badly tangled in places, and Beatriz had to help her work through some of the worst tangles.

  There was the scrape of boot heels on the rocky path, and Brody strolled into sight. “Amy, we need to get go—“

  His words cut off sharply as he came to a dead halt. Raul, walking behind him, ran into his back. Brody seemed frozen to the ground, and his eyes flicked from Amy to the array of undergarments spread out on the rock and back. A flush rose up his neck.

  “I, ah. . .” Brody cleared his throat. “We need to leave.” He whipped around and strode off. With a shrug to the women, Raul followed his friend.

  “Oh, my! Brody’s face!” Beatriz chuckled. “That man would stare down a gun in his face without a twitch, but this—he has it bad.”

  “Has what bad?” Amy asked, puzzled.

  Beatriz shrugged. “Love-sickness.” She looked at Amy more closely. “You and he have not, uh…been together?”

  “No.” The word came barely more than a whisper. She moved closer, her hands linked in front of her. “You think…he likes me?” Amy blushed, realizing how childish she sounded. “I mean, he wants to…”

  “Oh, yes, he wants to.” Beatriz nodded her head, grinning, and began to bundle up the drying clothes. She paused, then said, “He hasn’t done anything? Kissed you? Touched you?”

  Amy shook her head. “Sometimes…sometimes it seems to me like he wants to. I wake up and his arm is around me. But then he moves away. I think—” She hesitated, blushing. “I think maybe I’d like it if he kissed me.” She thought of the look in Brody’s eyes just now, the flush that rose up his neck, the way his gaze moved over her before flashing over to her delicate feminine underclothes drying in the sun. The heat in his eyes had stirred up all sorts of wild, strange feelings in her. “But I don’t know what to do.”

  “Don’t worry, muchacha.” Beatriz smiled and linked her arm through Amy’s as they started back toward the house. “I think Brody knows enough for both of you.”

  Brody’s fists were clenched as he stalked back to the house. He’d never known anything like this before, as if he might explode from all the feelings churning around inside him. Even rage in him was usually something cold and hard, his anger focused into steel. But this. . .this hunger and yearning, this tumult of emotions that tangled in his chest and left him blindly seeking something he couldn’t even identify—he didn’t know what to do with it. How to act or what to think. And he felt like a fool.

  Earlier this afternoon, when Raul had offered him a razor, soap and a change of clothes, Brody had jumped at the chance to clean up. He knew his eagerness sprang from a desire to look good to Amy, and he had called himself all kinds of an idiot for wanting that. He’d never worried before what a woman thought of his looks. But today it mattered, and when he’d come back inside, he hadn’t been able to lo
ok at Amy, embarrassed that he’d revealed his weakness and even more afraid that she would look at him with disinterest, even scorn.

  And then this afternoon, when he walked up and saw her there by the river, beautiful in the casual blouse and skirt, her hair hanging loose down her back like a golden waterfall, it had been like a hammer to his chest. When he’d glanced over at the rock, where her dainty white cotton underthings lay spread out to dry, it had sent his blood coursing hot through his veins. Hard on the heels of that thought came the realization that beneath her simple dress, she was wearing nothing at all. For an instant, he couldn’t breathe.

  “You don’t have to leave, you know,” Raul said, and Brody realized his friend had been talking all the way back and he hadn’t heard a word he’d said. “You could spend the night here, get some decent rest.” He hesitated, then went on, “You can have our bed. Beatriz and I will be fine in the barn on some hay.”

  “No.” The thought of sleeping with Amy in a soft feather bed was too much for him. He would never be able to keep his hands off her, cocooned together beneath a quilt and surrounded by softness. Realizing he’d been too curt, he went on, “Every minute I stay makes it more likely they’ll catch up to me. I can’t expose you to any more danger than I already have.”

  “And the girl?” Raul’s voice trailed off.

  He should leave her here. That was what Raul was offering. Amy would be safe, and Brody could ride faster and farther alone. Raul and Beatriz would get her back to her relatives. That was the smart thing to do. The good thing. But it seemed he wasn’t all that smart, and, Lord knows, he’d never been any good. “She’s coming with me.”

  Raul and Sam saddled the horses and loaded the supplies while Amy went inside to change into the clothes Beatriz had found for her to ride in. When she walked out of the house, Brody sucked in his breath, every nerve standing on end. He’d been a fool to come up with the idea of dressing Amy like a man in a shirt and denim trousers to keep her legs from being rubbed raw.

  It would work all right, but the problem was the clothes didn’t make Amy look in the least like a boy. True, the full glory of her hair was braided and pinned up under a man’s hat, and Raul’s old shirt was so large on her that it concealed the curves of her breasts. But the trousers, which had once belonged to a boy who had helped Raul with the horses, fit Amy snugly, outlining the shape of her legs and cupping her rounded derriere. Brody had never seen a woman in anything but skirts, and looking at Amy, he understood why trousers were forbidden to respectable women.

  Amy glanced at Sam and then away, blushing. She felt strange in the trousers, almost naked. Yet the clothes were wonderfully freeing, as well. It was nice to take longer steps and not to have the weight of skirts and petticoats, and it was far easier to swing up into the saddle.

  Beatriz had given Amy the skirt and blouse she’d lent her, and when Amy had protested that she couldn’t take so much from the other woman, Beatriz had smiled and told her that Brody had amply compensated them for everything. Pleased that he wanted to give her the pretty clothes as well as the riding outfit, Amy wrapped them up and stowed them in one of her saddlebags.

  She smiled at Sam. “Thank you.”

  He shook his head, unable to say anything.

  They mounted and rode out of the yard, Sam leading the way. Amy looked back at Beatriz and Raul and waved happily. She had enjoyed their company, but it was even nicer being alone with Sam again. She nudged Buttercup forward to ride beside him. Amy hoped that it would be a long time before Victoria caught up with them.

  Chapter Seven

  Victoria and Dennis Miles helped Slater to his feet and up onto his horse, and the small group started out for Dennis’s home. Miles told her about his mother, who he was sure would be glad of feminine company, living all alone out here with only Dennis and his younger brother. He went on to describe their small piece of land, lying along the Blanco River, and the visitors they had from time to time. “We like havin’ ‘em stop in, on account of that way we hear all the news.”

  Victoria soon realized that it was going to be no problem keeping a conversation going with this young man. Victoria listened with half her attention while she kept an eye on Slater. He was slumped in the saddle, his head hanging. He held the reins, but his hands were also curled around the saddle horn. Victoria wondered if he was asleep or lost in his fever. Slater swayed in the saddle, and Victoria edged her horse closer to his. She was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stay mounted much longer.

  He began to list to the right, and Victoria reached out and grabbed his arm, holding him in the saddle. “Mr. Miles!”

  “Oh, call me Den, ma’am, everybody does.”

  “I need your help.”

  He turned and saw her predicament. He guided his horse to the other side of Slater and pulled him upright. But Slater still swayed dangerously, and the reins slipped from his fingers.

  “Maybe we ought to leave him here,” Miles suggested. “I can take you up to the house, and my brother and me’ll fix up a litter and come back for him. It’d be a lot easier on him, I reckon.”

  “No.” Victoria shook her head decisively. “I can’t leave him out here alone. I did that this morning, and a cougar almost got him. I could stay with him…” She mused over the thought. “But that would take a lot of time, and it would be a bother for you.” Victoria pulled her horse to a stop. “I think the best thing is for me to ride with him.”

  Dennis Miles looked doubtful, but Victoria dismounted and handed him her reins. She picked up the reins Slater had dropped and removed his feet from the stirrups. Then she put her own foot into the stirrup and swung up into the saddle behind him. It wasn’t an easy matter. Miles had to help her wiggle Slater forward so that she could fit. And Slater was too big and long. His legs dangled down over hers, and she could see only by peering around him. Victoria put her arms around him, holding the reins in front of him. Fortunately, he leaned back into her, so that she was able to take the brunt of his weight against her torso. Even so, it put a strain on her muscles, and she knew that if anything should startle the horse and make him jump or run, she wouldn’t be able to keep either of them in the saddle.

  They started out again at the same slow pace. Slater’s body was like a furnace. Victoria’s arms started to ache from the effort of keeping him straight, and the weight of his legs over hers was making them numb. But she gritted her teeth and kept her arms tight around him.

  Despite the discomfort, she couldn’t help but be aware of the intimate way her legs cupped his body and her breasts pressed against his back. She remembered his hand on her breast earlier, and she was glad for the darkness that concealed the heat in her face. The movement of the horse beneath them rubbed his body against hers, and the friction set up a warm ache between her legs. She could feel dampness gathering there.

  She spread one hand out flat on his chest. He had been so hot that she hadn’t rebuttoned his shirt, and it hung open. Her hands lay on his bare skin. It was smooth, except for the prickle of his chest hair. She felt his muscles jump beneath her touch and he made a noise. Victoria imagined moving her hand lower, onto his stomach, imagined circling the shallow well of his navel. She curled her hand up tightly, her fingernails digging into her palm.

  Where in the world had she come by such thoughts? She could never remember feeling this way before. It was perverse; the man was sick! Did it take only this, the touch of a man’s hot flesh, the feel of his body against hers, to arouse the lust inside her? Her Aunt Margaret had always told her that her willful, independent ways would lead to no good. Was this what her aunt had feared? Was this why she had scolded Victoria for her improper behavior?

  Victoria leaned her forehead against Slater’s back, closing her eyes as if to blot out her wayward thoughts. It didn’t help. She was too aware of his firm flesh beneath his shirt. Even the scent of his sweat was somehow exciting. She wondered if other women had feelings like this. Probably not; she usually d
id and said and wanted things other women didn’t.

  At her finishing school in San Antonio, the girls had often whispered about men and what went on in the marriage bed. They had come up with all kinds of conflicting information. Victoria remembered that Sally Ann Carter had told them that a man and a woman took off all their clothes to make babies, and the other girls had blushed, giggling, and accused her of lying. Victoria had thought Sally Ann was wrong, too. Sally Ann generally was. Victoria couldn’t see why anyone would want to embarrass herself by taking off her clothes in front of a man—or see a naked man, for that matter.

  But now, remembering the excitement that had risen in her when she opened Slater’s shirt and saw his bare chest, she wondered if Sally might not have been right, after all. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so embarrassing to see a man’s naked body, or to have him look at her that way. She thought of undressing in front of Slater, and it brought a shivery feeling, part fear and part eagerness.

  She was jolted from her thoughts by Dennis Miles saying cheerfully, “Here we are. This is home.” He jumped down from his horse. “Ma! Nathan! I brought visitors!”

  Gratefully Victoria relaxed her cramped arms and peered around Slater at the two-story frame house in front of them. It was weather-beaten, the paint long faded from it, and its lines were plain, but at this moment, it looked heavenly to her. A young man who greatly resembled Dennis emerged from the house, and behind him came a middle-aged woman. Her iron-gray hair was done up in a tight knot at the back of her head, every hair in place, and her clothes, though as faded as the house, were neat and clean. It was obvious where her sons had gotten their size, for she was a large woman, taller than Victoria, and she looked strong. Her eyes were pale blue against the tan of her skin, and they were bright with interest and curiosity. Victoria suspected that she was a mother whose children had never gotten away with anything.

  Dennis explained the situation quickly, and the two brothers hauled Slater out of the saddle and carried him into the house. Victoria dismounted, relaxing for the first time in hours, and Mrs. Miles put a bracing arm around her waist. “There now, you poor thing. I bet you’re tired as can be. You’d best go on up and rest. I’ll bring you a nice hot dinner.”