If she and the wolf-dog and this cabin were real, then maybe she was a little bit crazy, living up here in the woods all alone. That would explain why she didn't lock her doors and why she didn't seem afraid of an escaped convict. Whatever the truth might be, Reece knew one thing for sure and certain-he had to find a way to get off this damned mountain and back to Newell. He wasn't going to get caught. He wasn't going to prison. Whatever he had to do to stay free, he'd do it. And if that meant using Elizabeth Mallory, if she even existed, then so be it.
Elizabeth had successfully avoided Reece Landry for most of the day, keeping busy with light housekeeping chores and necessary work in the greenhouses. His attitude toward her psychic abilities was nothing new. People who didn't know her tended to be skeptical; then once they accepted her unusual powers, people often treated her like a freak. She could never adjust in the world outside Sequana Falls. She'd learned that when she'd gone away to college.
She knew Reece had searched the house for the 9 mm belonging to the deceased deputy. He'd never find it. After sealing the gun in a plastic bag, she'd taken it with her when she'd gone to the greenhouses, finding a perfect spot for it between her two compost bins.
When Reece left, she would return the gun to him. She didn't like the idea of his using it, but knew it would offer him a small sense of security. If only he would accept her help, would open up to her and allow her to discover any possible knowledge of which he might not be aware.
Elizabeth removed the homemade beef pot pie from the oven, placing it atop the hotpad on the counter. Spooning generous helpings of the pie onto two Blue Willow plates, she laid the plates on a large tray already set with silverware and cloth napkins, piping hot coffee, small green salads and slices of made-from-scratch pound cake. Aunt Margaret had baked the pound cake before Christmas, and Elizabeth had frozen it for future use.
Picking up MacDatho's bowl from the floor, Elizabeth filled it with the remainder of the pot pie, then set it back down on the floor.
"I spoil you shamefully, you know that, don't you?"
MacDatho gazed up at her, his look telling her that he was worthy of being spoiled, then he wolfed down the warm meal.
Using her hip to shove open doors, Elizabeth carried the tray from the kitchen to the living room. Reece sat on the overstuffed plaid chair to the right of the fireplace. The sight of him sitting there, looking so at home, sent a fission of awareness through Elizabeth. A premonition? Or wishful thinking? Did she want her home to become Reece's home?
The radio-tape player, which Reece had apparently brought into the living room, rested on the floor beside his chair. The music playing was an old tape Elizabeth dearly loved, a mixed bag of cool jazz tunes. The soft, bluesy tones of saxophone and horn blended with piano, giving the listener a sensually romantic rendition of "Who Would Care?"
Reece looked up from the magazine he held in his hand, a recent copy of Archaeology. "I hope you don't mind, I borrowed your cassette player. Music helps me think. When I was a kid I used to sit out on my porch and listen to Willie Paul playing the piano over at Flossie's. He knew all the great jazz tunes."
Elizabeth set the tray atop the six-foot-long coffee table in front of the sofa. "Who was Willie Paul? And who was Flossie?"
Reece tossed Archaeology atop the pile of magazines in the big wicker basket beneath a nearby table. "Willie Paul was a black man who doubled as piano player and bouncer at Flossie's, a local night spot that also served the men of Newell as a brothel."
"Oh, I see." Elizabeth sat on the sofa, patting the cushion beside her. "I thought supper would be nice in here."
"You've been avoiding me all day, haven't you?" Reece got up, walked over to the sofa, but didn't sit down. "I guess I acted pretty ungrateful to you this morning. I've had time to think about things, and I realize that without your help, I might have died."
"Sit down and eat your supper." Elizabeth didn't look up at him, sensing the sexual arousal in Reece, knowing she wasn't ready to deal with the unnerving emotions he had created in her this morning, with nothing more than a kiss.
Reece laughed. "You sound like someone's mother. Are you always so maternal?" Sitting beside her, he lifted the coffee cup to his lips.
"You really grew up across the street from a... a house of-"
"A cathouse?" Reece tasted the coffee, then set it down on the tray, picking up a plate and fork. He wondered what she'd think if he told her that his first sexual experience had been with one of Flossie's girls. Misty, a very experienced redhead only five years older than he'd been at fifteen. "Yeah, Lilac Road was the most notorious street in Newell."
Picking up the folded white linen napkin from the tray, Elizabeth spread it across her lap. "I grew up here in Sequana Falls. My mother and stepfather brought me here when I was six, and we lived here together in my grandparents' home until my parents were killed in an automobile accident when I was twelve."
"You didn't live here on your own after they died, did you?"
"No, I lived with Aunt Margaret, my grandmother's sister. We divided our time between Sequana Falls and Dover's Mill." And Aunt Margaret taught me to accept my special abilities, not to fight them, and never to abuse the power.
Reece ate heartily, savoring every bite, and Elizabeth ate just as ravenously. Neither of them had eaten lunch. The hardwood logs burned in the fireplace. The cool jazz music filled the room, creating a mellow mood. Empty dishes lay stacked on the large tray. MacDatho snored softly on the braided rug before the hearth. Turning toward Reece, Elizabeth crossed one leg beneath the other, her entwined fingers cupping her knee. Reece rested his arm on the back of the sofa, then turned slightly, crossing his legs, his hand on his thigh.
"I'll have to leave in the morning." His words sounded loud in the peaceful stillness of the room.
Elizabeth shook her head. "You won't be able to leave."
"I'm all right. No permanent effects from the wreck or from my long trek in the snow. Just a few fading bruises and a little soreness." Reece leaned toward her, wondering why she wouldn't look at him. She had deliberately avoided any eye contact with him since their altercation on the back porch this morning. Had he hurt her feelings by not believing her claim to be psychic?
"It won't be safe for you to leave the mountain tomorrow."
"It won't be safe for me if I stay," he said. "I've been listening to radio newscasts all day. They're mounting a pretty big search for me. Since the weather seems to have cleared up, they'll be combing Dover's Mill and Sequana Falls."
"They won't be able to do anything for another day or so. There's another big snow coming. It's already started. It's snowing again right now."
"How do you know?" When she didn't reply, he realized she didn't want to tell him that her powers extended to predicting the weather because she was afraid of his ridicule. "Okay, so it's snowing now. Being snowed-in here won't keep me safe, and it isn't getting me any closer to proving my innocence."
"Be patient, Reece." Elizabeth looked at him then, her eyes pleading. "Your body and mind need rest, and you need time to think, to plan a strategy for when you return to Newell."
"All I need is a means of transportation. I guess I'll have to try my hand at hitchhiking or stealing a car. Somehow I'll have to elude the manhunt and steer clear of any roadblocks."
Elizabeth reached out, her hand hovering over his where it rested on the back of the sofa. Lowering her hand, she covered his, squeezing tenderly. "I have a Jeep you can borrow. I don't keep much cash on hand, but I have a couple of hundred I can give you."
"You'll loan me your Jeep and some money?" Reece stared at her, wondering if he'd ever be able to figure her out. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I believe you're innocent. Because someone has to help you." Holding his hand firmly, she smiled at him. "Because five months ago you came to me in my dreams because you needed someone. You needed me."
Gazing directly into her pure blue eyes, Reece realized she truly believed what she was
saying-there was no doubt in her mind that he had been appearing in her dreams, that she had seen visions of his captivity.
"You don't believe me, do you?"
"Elizabeth, I... Hell, I'm a realist. I don't believe in anything I can't experience with my five senses."
"It's all right. I understand. It's not necessary that you believe me in order for me to help you."
Reece lifted her hand, turning it palm up. "You're a very unusual woman, Elizabeth Mallory. And if you're willing to help me, I'm not fool enough to refuse. Maybe God has finally decided to give me a break. Maybe he did send me to you. Maybe he gave you to me as a guardian angel."
Lowering his head, Reece brought Elizabeth's hand to his mouth, kissing the center of her palm. "If your predictions about the weather come true and we are trapped up here in this cabin together for a couple more days, then you may be in real danger from me."
She gave him a startled look, her eyes widening in surprise. "What sort of danger?"
"Man-woman sort of danger."
"You want me? Want to make love to me?" The very thought warmed Elizabeth's insides, tightening her nipples and moistening her femininity. What would it be like to make love with Reece Landry, to lie in his arms and know his complete possession? Elizabeth shivered.
He'd never known a woman so brutally frank. Most females he knew were experts at playing games, saying one thing and meaning another, lying when it served their purpose.
Grinning, Reece pulled her hand to his chest, laying it across his heart. "Yeah, I want to make love to you. You're a beautiful, desirable woman, and I haven't been with anybody in nearly a year."
"We're not ready to make love. Not yet." Removing her hand from his chest, she stood and walked across the room, halting in front of the wide expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the south wall of the living room.
Reece followed her, slipping his arms around her waist, drawing her back against his chest, positioning her buttocks into his arousal.
"Oh, I'm ready. I'm more than ready." He nuzzled the side of her neck with his nose.
Elizabeth loved the feel of him. His big, strong arms draped around her body, his face buried in her neck, his lips spreading kisses up the side of her jaw, his throbbing arousal pulsating against her, beckoning her to succumb to temptation. She wanted Reece. She'd never wanted a man before. Desire was a new emotion to her, one that she realized had been growing steadily within her since her first dream of a tormented, caged man in desperate need of her help.
"You're ready to have sex, Reece." Elizabeth knew she should withdraw from his embrace, should free herself from the chains of their mutual passion, but she couldn't bear the thought of ending such sweet pleasure. "You aren't ready to make love."
He chuckled, lowering his hands to cover her stomach, then the tops of her thighs, running his palms up and down, in and out, closer and closer to the apex between her legs. "Is there a difference?"
She covered his hands where they cupped her femininity. "Yes, there's a difference between love and sex. A big difference for me. I won't have sex without the loving. When we're both ready, I'll know."
Huffing loudly, Reece released Elizabeth and walked away from her. "Another one of your psychic talents, knowing when a man is ready to make love instead of just screw?"
Elizabeth swallowed the knot in her throat, emotion creating a physical ache inside her. He was angry. Not with her, not really. Reece Landry was angry with fife. If only he would let her, she would teach him to release his anger, to free himself of its destructive hold. She had another day, perhaps two, to persuade him that she could do more to help him than lend him a Jeep and some money. Maybe a day or two would be enough time.
"It's snowing," she said as she looked out the window. "It will snow all night."
"Thanks for the weather report." Reece wanted to hit something, anything that would smash into a thousand pieces and release some of the tension inside him. Sex would have worked just fine, but his hostess wasn't a woman who had sex. She made love. Sex and making love meant the same thing to him, and he believed any fool stupid enough to think there was a difference was deluding himself-or herself. He'd had sex with his share of women over the years, and there had never been much difference in the experiences, regardless of who his partner had been.
"There is a difference, Reece. Someday you'll understand."
He didn't respond, not even with a nod or a grunt. Elizabeth watched him walk away, entering the hallway; then he stopped, but didn't turn around. "Where do I sleep tonight? I assume I've been sleeping in your bed the last couple of nights."
"Take the stairs. I built a fire in the fireplace in the first bedroom."
"Fine." He headed for the stairs, took several steps upward, then said, "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Elizabeth hugged her arms around her body, the chill of Reece's anger and frustration issuing her a warning. She didn't know this man, despite his invasion of her mind, her home and her heart. She had hoped that once they came together she would be able to get past the shield protecting his thoughts and emotions. But she caught only fragmented glimpses inside his mind. Not enough to trust her body to him. Her heart was another matter. She feared it was already lost.
Chapter 4
Reece guided the razor down his cheek. Sam Dundee's razor. For two days he'd been wearing another man's clothes, a man whose shoes he didn't quite fill, and now he was shaving with that man's razor. He'd even slept in the man's bed last night.
Elizabeth had told him that Sam was her stepfather's brother and had acted as her legal guardian when her parents had been killed in an automobile accident when she was twelve. Reece didn't like this Dundee guy, and he wasn't quite sure why. He didn't even know him, but Elizabeth knew him. Elizabeth loved him!
Hell! He had to get off this mountain. Away from Elizabeth Mallory, away from her unnatural concern about his welfare, away from her all-too-knowing blue eyes and away from the way she made him feel every time he looked at her. It had been hell keeping his hands off her. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd wanted a woman so badly. He'd told himself this gut-wrenching hunger eating away at him was due to the fact he hadn't been with a woman in over a year, but he wasn't so sure.
He'd been alone with Elizabeth for three nights, two of them in a semiconscious stupor, but even on those two nights he could remember her gentle touch, her soft voice, her kindness and concern. He liked Elizabeth far too much, and he didn't want to like her. Caring about her would be dangerous for both of them. He'd only wind up hurting her if he allowed her to become involved in his problems. Besides, he didn't quite trust her. He'd never completely trusted another person-not even his own mother. Blanche had betrayed him from the moment she'd conceived him, bringing him into the world a bastard, a social outcast, giving him a stepfather like Harry Gunn, then dying on him before he was old enough to defend himself. No, he'd learned early that it didn't pay to trust anyone, not even the people who professed to love you.
The snowstorm had died sometime during the early morning hours. He'd awakened to the sound of silence, to the eerie quiet left once the wind had ceased its savage moaning. The search for escaped convict Reece Landry would be on again. It was only a matter of time before someone came snooping around Elizabeth's cabin. The electricity had been restored around nine o'clock. Things were beginning to return to normal. He couldn't risk staying much longer. He'd have to leave soon. He had no other choice if he wanted to stay free.
The jarring ring of a telephone echoed through the house like a sonic boom. The razor in Reece's hand stilled on his throat. If the phone was working again, then Elizabeth could call out. She could call for help. She could turn him in to the sheriff.
Dropping the razor into the sink, Reece picked up a hand towel, wiped the streaks of shaving-cream residue off his face and ran out into the hallway. When he reached the top of the stairs he heard Elizabeth's voice, but couldn't make out what she was saying.
/> He took the steps two at a time, halting just before reaching the living room entrance, bracing himself against the wall. His heartbeat accelerated; the pulse in his head throbbed.
"You didn't have to worry about me, Aunt Margaret. I'm fine. Really," Elizabeth said. "Mac and I weathered the storm without any problems.''
Reece glanced around the corner, watching Elizabeth while she talked. Something was bothering her. Reece noted the way her hand clutched the phone, the way she stood, her feet shifting nervously as if she couldn't stand still.
"No, don't do that!" Elizabeth's voice sounded shrill. "I mean, don't send poor old O'Grady out in this weather. I don't need anything."
Reece eased around the corner, walking silently toward Elizabeth. When he was within two feet of her, she jerked around, her eyes widening, her mouth forming an oval of surprise. She draped the palm of her hand over the bottom half of the telephone.
"Who are you talking to?" Reece asked.
"My aunt Margaret."
"Who's this O'Grady you're talking about?"
"He's-" Elizabeth removed her hand from the telephone. "Oh, Aunt Margaret, you shouldn't have done that. You're wrong. There is no one here with me. I'm not in any danger."
Reece grabbed the telephone out of Elizabeth's hand, slamming it down onto its cradle. She glared at him.
"Just what do you think you're doing?"
"What made her think you weren't alone?" Reece grabbed Elizabeth by the shoulders. "What did you tell her?"
"I didn't tell her anything." Elizabeth struggled to free herself from Reece's biting fingers.
He tightened his hold. She cried out in pain. Releasing her shoulders, Reece grasped her around the waist, jerking her into his arms. "If you didn't tell her about me, then how does she know you're not alone? Why does she think you're in danger?"
The Outcast tp-3 Page 6
