by Deb Stover
His body buried deep inside hers.
Oh, God. She swallowed hard and let the blanket slip from her shoulders. Cold was definitely not her problem now.
"You okay?" He returned to her side, absently poking at the embers with a long stick. "Your shoulder hurting?"
"No, my shoulder's fine." She drew a deep, cleansing breath and released it very slowly. The distance to Denver suddenly seemed much farther.
"Good. I was afraid the night air would aggravate it."
Aggravated was a good word, but definitely didn't apply to her shoulder. Sofie squirmed slightly, trying to ignore the ever-tightening knot of desire low in her belly.
She must've been sexually active before her amnesia. Otherwise, how could she have such specific knowledge of what she was missing? What she wanted.
Now.
Closing her eyes, she visualized Luke covering her with his long, muscular body, pressing his hard erection against her soft, hungry–
Gasping, she lurched to her feet, leaving the blanket behind as she fled to the stream. Maybe a frigid mountain stream could douse the fervent flames in her body and heart. Luke was beside her in an instant.
He touched her.
No, don't do that. She couldn't stand it now. Not now. She'd snap if he kept touching her.
"Sofie?" He stepped in front of her and put both his hands on her, one on her upper arm and the other on her cheek. "You don't have a fever."
She shook her head. Oh, yes...yes, I do.
"What's wrong?" He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, sending rivulets of desire cascading through her.
Sofie trembled and he wrapped his arms around her. "You are cold," he whispered against her hair. "Come on back to the fire."
I have a fire of my own. She trembled again as he rubbed her back, his hand roaming over her spine in slow, stimulating circles.
"Oh, Luke," she whispered, wanting to devour him on the spot. She felt like a nocturnal predator, preying on unsuspecting priests. "Please..."
"Please what?" His voice grew husky and he buried his face against the side of her neck, nuzzling her without actually kissing. Everything he did could easily be misconstrued as totally innocent.
But Sofie couldn't forget that night on the floor of the parsonage, when he'd branded her body and soul. Now they stood beneath the stars, the silent night enveloping them in a cocoon so private no one would ever know.
No one but them.
"Don't, please," she said, pulling away and returning to the campfire.
She heard him follow, knew he paused mere inches away, but she refused to look away from the bright orange flames. Luke was far more dangerous than the most blistering inferno.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "So sorry."
Warden Carl Graham would see justice done. He didn't care what happened to him in this bizarre place and time. All that mattered was that he fulfill his destiny.
By carrying out Luke Nolan's execution.
Why else had he been spared from certain death? He had a mission to complete, then he could die in peace.
Pulling the gray mask over his hideous face, he crossed the small bedroom he still occupied in the Wilson house and opened the door. Today he would see justice done at last.
Physically, he felt strong enough to complete his duty, though a nagging ache in his chest plagued him. He knew it was his heart. At his last physical, the doctor had warned him he had to retire and start taking it easy.
But none of that mattered now.
Forsaking his limp at long last, he went down the hall to Dr. Wilson's office. With his strength returned, he would now fulfill his mission, making his disguise–such as it was–unnecessary. Wouldn't that old quack be shocked to learn who Father Salazar really was? Without bothering to knock, Graham opened the door and entered the doctor's office.
The white-haired physician looked up from the papers on his desk with an expression of surprise. His woolly eyebrows shot upward, then a smile split his face.
"Mr. Smith, it's good to see you up and about." Wilson rose and approached.
"Where's Nolan?" Graham asked in his raspy voice. "Where's he staying?"
Wilson's shock multiplied and his mouth fell open. "You can talk."
"Where's Nolan?"
Dr. Wilson shook his head and removed his spectacles. "Nolan? I don't know anyone by–" He snapped his fingers. "Oh, wait, there's someone by that name in Cripple Creek–owns a saloon, I think. Is that your name? Is this Nolan a relative of yours?"
"Not hardly." Graham moved closer. The thought of delaying his mission long enough to explain the priest's true identity was unthinkable, though he'd looked forward to it. "Where's the...priest and that doctor?"
His gaze narrowing, Dr. Wilson shook his head. "They left yesterday for–"
Fury boiled in Graham's gut and he swept his arm across Wilson's desk, scattering papers and ink across the floor. "Where'd they go?" A roar erupted from somewhere deep in his soul. "Where?"
Wilson looked at the mess, then marched to the outside door and opened it. "Get out of my home," he said in low, clipped tones. "I've done my duty by you, but you've overstayed your welcome in this house, and in Redemption."
Graham moved toward the open door, not caring if he had a roof over his head, food to eat, or a place to sleep. Nothing mattered except justice.
Nothing.
"Where?" He stopped in front of Dr. Wilson and lifted his chin, pinning the man with his gaze. "Tell me that...and I'll go."
Wilson was apparently weighing his options. After several moments, he said, "I don't know why you want them, but they went where you'll never find them. Now go."
Dora Fleming appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock. "What's...?"
"Where'd the priest go?" Graham stepped into the doorway, glowering down at Dora. "Tell me."
"Don't tell him anything, Dora," Dr. Wilson called from behind Graham.
Ignoring the doctor, Graham stared intently into Dora's eyes. "Tell me."
"Denver."
Denver. Graham pushed past her and staggered into the street, aware of the door being slammed behind him. He didn't care about that–burning bridges was now a moot point.
Only justice.
He hadn't been outside except for the day they moved him from the school to Wilson's house. He wasn't a bit worried, though, because now that he knew Nolan had gone to Denver, he knew exactly where to find the bastard.
Warden Graham had made it his business over the years to learn everything he could about Luke Nolan and his family. Yes, he knew exactly where Nolan would run, and he would follow.
But first, he must prepare the execution chamber.
Luke opened his eyes to a gray shroud. Was he dead? If so, this certainly wasn't hell. Too damned cold.
After a few moments, his vision acclimated itself to the dull light of dawn, and he pushed to a sitting position. The temperature was easily twenty degrees colder than the previous day. They had to hurry to lower elevation before it started to snow.
How many days had it been since they left Redemption? He'd lost track after three. Still, he figured they shouldn't be too far from the pass that would take them down the Front Range and into the rolling foothills.
He sniffed the icy air and looked at the thick layer of clouds overhead. Without the sun's warmth and guidance, today's journey would be more difficult than he'd hoped.
"Sofie?" They wouldn't take time for breakfast this morning. "Sofie, we have to go now."
She stirred and stretched, pushing herself up onto one elbow. "Ugh."
"Ugh?" Luke chuckled as he retrieved their supplies from a nearby tree and started to saddle her horse. "I'm afraid winter's catching up with us, so we're going to skip breakfast and try to eat lunch where it's warmer."
"How about Howard Johnson's?" Grimacing, Sofie stood and ran her fingers through her wild mane of curls. "Holiday Inn?" She arched a brow when he laughed. "Super 8?"
As she disappeared in
to a clump of trees for some privacy, Luke's laughter ceased. Sofie must have remembered more. With every day that passed, she grew more vocal about the culture they'd left in the future. And her knowledge of semi-useless information would make her a natural in a game of Trivial Pursuit.
They were far enough from Redemption that he could tell her his plans to leave the church now, and ask her to marry him. She had to say yes. She had to.
But this morning, he couldn't take the time to propose. Getting her out of these mountains before snow fell took priority.
Tonight. Promising himself, he finished saddling the horses and freshened their canteens in the frigid stream. The cold air stung his cheeks and wind howled down the mountain, right through his wool coat.
Zeke had said buffalo robes were the only way to keep warm in the mountains, but Luke had left too quickly to acquire such luxuries. He shuddered and fastened a canteen over each saddle horn just as Sofie reappeared.
"It's going to snow," she said, her eyes filled with worry. "I can feel it."
"Yeah, I know." Since necessity required they sleep in their coats and gloves, they were ready to go within a few minutes.
They couldn't talk above the wind, so Luke assured himself of Sofie's safety by periodically glancing back as they followed the trail along the stream. In some places, the ground gave way so suddenly, they had to circle into the woods, then back again to the stream. Without the sun, he had no other guide.
He looked back at Sofie again when snow started to fall. The narrow opening in her muffler allowed him to see the expression in her eyes. Fear and worry.
Ditto.
The rocky terrain hindered their progress, but Luke decided to push ahead until they had to stop. Sofie obviously shared his urgency, and never uttered a word of protest as the snow grew heavier and started to stick.
After Rosie almost lost her footing, Luke realized they had to slow their pace even more. Damn. He could barely see ten feet ahead.
Reminded of the day he'd carried Sofie into an abandoned mine to hide from a storm, he wished they could find such shelter now. Squinting, he explored the surrounding terrain, praying for a miracle. Would God listen to a fake priest? All Luke could do was try.
Please, God, for Sofie...
He heard her shout and icy shards of fear lashed through him. Bringing Rosie to a stop, he turned to see her pointing across the stream.
Luke looked where she pointed, making out a shadowy shape through the blur of white. Too large to be a man, he realized after a moment that it was a small cabin.
Thank you.
He motioned with his hand that they should cross the shallow stream. Halfway across the wind took on a different pitch. No, not the wind.
Sofie's scream.
As if in slow motion, he watched her horse stumble and pitch Sofie into the icy water. Luke vaulted from the saddle and rushed to her side.
By the time he reached her, she was completely submerged. He pulled her soaked body from the water and lifted her into his arms, pulling the muffler away from her face enough to see her closed eyes. She was unconscious but breathing.
She had to be all right. "Stay with me, Sofie," he whispered against the howling wind.
Staggering from the water and up the opposite bank, Luke was vaguely aware of the horses standing nose to tail. He spied a dugout or something built into the side of the mountain beside the cabin. The gentle beasts didn't have sense to take cover on their own, but he'd tend them later. Sofie came first.
The abandoned cabin was small and square, but sound. Luke pushed the door open with his shoulder. It only opened partway, forcing him to squeeze through with his burden.
So cold. He had to get her warm and dry.
Snow filtered between the logs, where the chinking had crumbled away. The back of the cabin must have been built against the mountain, because it wasn't as drafty.
Spotting a bed, Luke realized the cabin was too clean to have been empty long. With any luck, he'd also find a few supplies, and he'd leave some gold to repay their absent host. Some warm quilts lay neatly folded on a shelf above the bed. This was a sure sign their luck was about to improve. I hope.
He peeled the soggy gloves, muffler, hat and coat from Sofie and dropped them to the floor. She was so pale and still, but he knew she wasn't dead. He would have felt and known the moment she left him.
He pulled off her sodden shoes and socks, then removed his jeans from her slim hips. She moaned in protest as he slid the wet shirt from her shoulders. "Atta girl, Sofie," he said, blinking back the tears of relief that burned his eyes. "Talk to me."
Even her underthings were soaked. He hesitated for only a moment, then removed them, too. Now wasn't the time to permit his hungry gaze to feast. He clutched her to him fiercely, his love pouring from his heart and into hers.
"I love you, Sofie," he whispered fiercely. "Don't die, baby. Don't die."
After wrapping her in one quilt and piling two more on top of her, Luke left her on the bunk and went to the stone hearth. A lantern sat on the mantel. "Let there be light," he muttered, fishing the small tin of precious matches from deep in his coat pocket.
With the lantern's light, he found the firebox filled with enough wood to last them a few days. The dry wood caught fast, and soon bright orange flames devoured it, filling the tiny cabin with much needed warmth.
Rubbing his hands together, he crossed the room to check on Sofie. Pulling back a corner of the quilt, he found her beautiful green eyes staring up at him.
"You're awake." He sat on the edge of the bunk and stroked damp curls back from her face. "How do you feel?"
"Head hurts." Her voice trembled and he tucked the quilts around her more snugly. "Again."
"I'm just glad you're all right." He sighed, then cleared his throat. "Nothing else hurts?"
"I don't think so, but I'm sleepy." He watched her look around. "Is this heaven?"
Chuckling, he found and squeezed her hand through the quilt. "I think it's just this side of it."
"Still snowing?"
"Yes, which reminds me..." Luke stood, but remained close to the bunk, leaning down to study her face as he spoke. "I have to check on the horses and get our supplies."
"Be careful."
He nodded. "Listen, Sofie, if anything happens to me out there–"
"Don't talk that way." She tried to sit up, but he pressed her back against the quilt. "Don't, Luke. Promise me."
"I'll be careful."
"Okay, but you're still wet."
"I'm going to get a lot wetter." He studied her for a few moments, mustering his courage. "When I get back, there's something important I have to tell you."
She stared in silence for a few minutes. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Good. I'll be right back."
Luke wrapped his muffler around his neck and across his face again, and made sure his ears were covered. He pulled on his slightly damp gloves and glanced back at Sofie before he went out into the blizzard.
The blast of cold hurt. There was no other word to describe it. He pulled the door shut quickly behind him, then ducked his head into the wind, trying to see the horses. Feeling his way along the side of the cabin, he finally saw them only a few feet from the dugout.
So much for horse sense. He grabbed the reins and Rosie and Sissy both gave him looks that said, "In your dreams, buster. We're staying put."
After much tugging and cussing, he finally managed to drag the stupid beasts out of the storm. Of course, if horses were really smart they wouldn't let humans ride them. Luke should be grateful for their stupidity. Later maybe.
The quiet of the dugout was awesome. It was much better insulated than the leaky cabin, but he wouldn't trade the bed and fireplace for anything.
He unsaddled the horses and gave them both a generous portion of feed. Then he filled the empty trough in the corner with snow, hoping it would melt enough to provide the animals with water until the storm passed.
Sofie'd been right
. This was heaven. Comparatively speaking. They had a decent amount of food, shelter, heat...
And each other. It was time to set the course for the rest of his life.
Chapter 19
The vertigo Sofie'd suffered before slammed into her again with a vengeance. Her stomach heaved, and if there'd been anything in it, she knew it wouldn't have stayed down long.
Images spun through her head, sharper and clearer than ever before. A different flash of memory flooded her brain with pictures–a man in a hospital bed. In her heart, she knew the young man was someone she loved and cared about, but her vision wouldn't let her see his face clearly.
Tears stung her closed eyes, but the dizziness subsided, leaving her spent and shaken. She heard the door open and a blast of cold air swirled through the cabin. Luke.
"Sofie, what's wrong?" Luke gently shook her shoulder. "Wake up."
Furious with her inability to remember, she lurched from beneath the quilts and lashed out at her only friend. Luke was keeping secrets. He knew things that could help her end this madness. She struck blindly with her fist until he grabbed and held her wrists.
Tears streamed down her face and her body convulsed. "Tell me, damn you," she said. "Tell me."
The expression of helplessness in his eyes was too much. Sofie sagged against him, letting him support her weight. Sobs tore from her heart, from her soul, from her shattered memories. "Please, t-tell me."
His arms went around her and she felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her. Her sobs ceased and her tears subsided as his warmth penetrated her bones and offered comfort. The rough wool of his coat teased her chilled flesh.
Her naked flesh.
Of course, he'd obviously undressed her himself, so she had nothing left to hide.
Nothing except her heart.
"What is it you want me to tell you, Sofie?" he asked, his voice gentle and seductive. "You know I'd never hurt you. Don't you?"
Sofie nodded against his shoulder, the rough fabric abrading her cheek. "I...I want to know everything you know about me." She lifted her face and looked up at him. "You must know something. Otherwise, why were we together that morning? Please, please don't lie to me."
