by Amy Sandas
“You shot that man in self-defense.”
“I know.”
“It was an act of survival.”
“I know that too.”
He took her chilled hands in his. “You can still hear it. See it. Smell it. Can’t you?”
She nodded, then tipped her chin up to meet his understanding gaze. “Does it ever go away?”
“No. But after a time, it doesn’t affect you the same,” he replied, but then his brows lowered, and he dropped her hands. “Or maybe I’ve gathered up so many of those memories, they’ve lost their impact.”
She arched her brow. “Are you suggesting I go on a killing spree?”
He chuckled, his gray eyes meeting hers warmly. “No. But you need to understand that your actions were justified. The reason your father likely gave you that Colt in the first place was to protect you from that kind of danger, and others. Maybe you didn’t need it in Boston, but out here, a gun on your hip is a necessary aspect of life.”
“Especially when there are countless men hunting you down?” she asked.
He frowned.
“You need your Colt, Malcolm,” she insisted. “I’ll take the rifle.”
“Once you’ve had a little practice, I expect you’ll handle it with no problem.”
She gave him a half smile. “You seem to have developed an awful lot of faith in me,” she teased.
“It’s warranted. You impress me more every day, Alex,” he replied. Then he dipped his chin, and the look in his eyes was arresting. “I suspect you could even teach me a few things.”
Alexandra lifted her brows in a haughty expression. “Oh, I’m sure of it.”
Thirty-Five
The next morning, Malcolm set up some targets for shooting practice.
Though the thought of carrying a weapon caused a clenching of fear and uncertainty in Alexandra’s stomach, the danger of encountering the mercenaries out there looking for Malcolm was too great. She would do her part to help protect them both until he was prepared to meet his brother’s murderer on his own terms.
Just like when she’d drawn Malcolm’s Colt in a split-second reaction to seeing the gun aimed at his back, the rifle’s familiarity came back in an instant. The weight and heft, the smooth grip of the wood stock, the feel of it against her shoulder, and the way she had to breathe as she aimed at the target across the meadow and pulled the trigger.
A direct hit, almost dead center.
Malcolm gave her an odd look but said nothing as he gave a nod to shoot again.
Another bull’s-eye and a narrow-eyed side glance from Malcolm reminded her of how her father had always been stunned by her marksmanship. She’d been a natural with a rifle since she’d first picked one up at age eight.
When the third shot joined the first two in a tight grouping, Malcolm grumbled, “I’m starting to think you don’t need any practice.”
“I told you I didn’t.”
He stepped forward and pulled her to him for a full, open-mouthed kiss that had her so breathless and weakened that she nearly dropped the rifle to the dirt. When he pulled back, a wicked smile curled the corners of his mouth. “Now try to shoot.”
She brought the rifle to her shoulder. Taking only half a breath to aim, she fired.
“Aw, hell,” Malcolm muttered as he turned to stride back up the hill to the cabin.
Alexandra laughed. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed target practice.
* * *
After lunch, Malcolm and Alexandra went for a ride.
He’d resisted when she first insisted on joining him on his daily searches for any sign of Dunstan’s men, but at least now she wasn’t opposed to carrying the rifle. In all honesty, he preferred having her at his side over leaving her alone back at the cabin.
The rides had become an activity he looked forward to. The simple act of getting to know the land was a pleasure he’d never experienced. Though he’d always felt a certain affinity for the Rockies, he’d never taken the time to really breathe in the beauty of the mountains, but Alex’s love of the Montana wilderness was obvious and contagious.
It was too easy to imagine spending every day riding beside her.
If he were a different man, that’s the future he would have chosen.
But such dreams weren’t meant to be.
There were a limited number of ways into the small valley, and on previous rides, they hadn’t come across any indication that others had passed through the area for some time. Today, they weren’t so fortunate. As they rode along a westward-facing ridge that gave a broad view over some foothills that spread out to more level land, he spotted a band of riders.
There were four of them, a rag-tag group of men, sufficiently armed to take down a stubborn bounty hunter—and they were close. Too damn close. There was no way to know if they were Dunstan’s men, but a gut feeling had Malcolm quickly turning about to get out of their line of sight.
Alex kept her mare close beside him as they urged their mounts to a swifter pace. She’d seen the riders and didn’t need to be told to minimize the sound of their retreat as best they could.
Despite their caution, the thunder of horses giving chase echoed from behind them. They’d been spotted.
Shit.
Malcolm looked at the woman riding beside him. Since Gavin, he’d made sure no one had to rely on him for anything. Just knowing Alex was at risk because of him made him sick.
She appeared so competent and brave as she crouched low over her horse’s neck, and when she turned her gaze to meet his, he saw nothing but fierce determination in her blue eyes. “We have to split up. I’m only slowing you down.”
His gut twisted at the thought of separating while Dunstan’s men were hot on their trail, but she was right. Individually, they’d have a better chance of evading their followers. She knew these mountain trails as well, if not better, than he did. Her experienced mare could head up along one of the more rough and hidden routes they’d discovered while Malcolm lured their pursuers in the opposite direction. With a little room to run, Deuce could outpace just about any other horse.
But he hated having to let her out of his sight. The thought of being unable to protect her made his chest ache with fear.
“I’ll be all right,” she assured him. “Please trust me. It’s the only way.”
He did trust her. More than anyone else in the world. She might’ve set out on this journey to prove something to herself, but she’d already proven herself to him a hundred times over.
“Head toward that moose trail we found yesterday. I’ll try to get them to follow me, but if any of them keep after you and get too close, you find a place to hole up. Don’t hesitate to use that rifle. Promise me.”
She nodded, her eyes intent and focused. “Be safe, Malcolm.”
“You too.” He could have said so much more, but the sound of horses seemed to be growing nearer. There was no time.
Pulling hard on Deuce’s reins, he spun back the way they’d come. With any luck, their pursuers would all take off after him, leaving Alex to make her way safely back to the cabin.
It took more than an hour of hard riding to finally lose sight of the men behind him, followed by another couple of hours of carefully wending his way back to the cabin by an indirect route, using every trick he knew to disguise his trail. By the time he rode into the clearing, the sun had slipped below the horizon, turning the sky a soft lavender-gray. His heart nearly stopped when Alex came running out of the cabin. Leaping from the saddle, he turned just in time to catch her as she launched herself into his arms.
“Thank God you made it,” she whispered, echoing his thoughts exactly.
His relief was intense but short-lived.
He had to force himself to pull away, intentionally pushing her to arm’s length. “Go back inside. I need to tend to Deuce.”
/> By the jut of her chin and brief narrowing of her eyes, he knew she wished to say something, but she held her tongue.
He figured he knew what stopped her. He could feel the hardness spreading over his features, invading his body, preparing him for battle. The harsh, ragged edge of vengeance and fear was a raw fire inside him.
He welcomed it.
That hardness had gotten him through the years since Gavin’s murder, and it would have to get him through the next several days until he left Alex with her father.
He’d allowed things to get too close. Too comfortable. Too intense.
And now it had to end.
Now that they knew he was in these mountains, Dunstan’s men wouldn’t stop looking for him. Eventually, they’d come upon this place and ruin the closest thing to a home he’d ever known. He couldn’t let that happen.
Taking Deuce around to the shelter, he unsaddled the gelding and brushed him down. Alex had already brought up fresh water, and Malcolm emptied the last of their store of grain for both horses. Deuce would need to restore his energy before they headed out again. The dark would keep Dunstan’s men from finding his trail tonight, but he had no doubt they’d be at it first thing in the morning.
Malcolm would be ready for them.
He’d done some more practice with his Colt that morning. His speed wasn’t where it used to be, but he was accurate. It would have to be enough.
Coming around the corner of the cabin, he stopped when he saw Alex standing in the open door.
He said nothing when she silently stepped aside for him to enter. A sick feeling twisted his stomach as the door closed, ensconcing them in the quiet shelter. Even though Alex hadn’t lit a fire, probably to avoid attracting their pursuers with the smoke, the cabin still felt homey and welcoming. “I’m heading out tomorrow at first light,” he said curtly as he dropped his hat into the center of the table before removing his coat.
“You are going after them?” Of course, she would realize what he intended to do.
He wished more fervently than he ever had before that he was done tracking down Gavin’s killers. The last eight years had been a vigilant study in vengeance and death. For the first time since it had all begun, he resented how he had been changed by it.
Somehow, Alex made him feel tender and full of a longing for things that could never be while Dunstan still lived.
Once he killed Dunstan, the past would be done. Then maybe he’d be able to look to the future without the constant sense of dread. Maybe he’d be able to look at Alex and see beyond the next morning.
“Malcolm?” She was still waiting for an answer.
He looked down at the table where his hat rested between the rough place settings—two tin plates, a couple of forks, and tin cups for water.
“I can’t let them track me back here. Even if we leave tomorrow, they’ll still be out there. They will catch up to us. We can’t risk being caught unaware.”
She came up behind him. He could feel her in the way the air over his skin became charged with heightened awareness seconds before her scent and warmth drifted through his senses.
“I’m going with you.”
“No.”
“I wasn’t asking permission, Malcolm. You will need my help.”
He turned then to look at her, his heart heavy. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
She stepped toward him, and his arms came up to draw her closer. She locked her hands behind his back and tipped her head to smile up at him. “Then we will have to come up with a good plan.”
* * *
Later that night, long after their cold supper had been cleaned up, Alexandra cursed herself for suggesting they get a good rest before riding out in the morning. She’d been regretting it with every breath, as sleep proved to be stubbornly elusive. She suspected Malcolm was as wide-awake as she was, even though he hadn’t moved so much as a muscle since they’d settled beneath the covers—him on his back and her curled against his side with her head on his shoulder and her hand resting over his heart.
She tried convincing herself that this was enough: his closeness and comfort, the sound of his steady breath, and the warmth of his skin beneath her palm.
But her heart fluttered wildly with the yearning to be closer, to take him inside her and experience that deeply forged connection, especially not knowing what tomorrow might bring.
She trusted their plan to set up an ambush for the men who had followed them. She believed they would be able to overtake them, but the risk was great. And after that, they would be leaving this place, this quiet little meadow and cozy cabin. The silence and darkness surrounding them would soon disperse as their future spread out to encompass the rest of the world. They would never again be so ensconced in such a perfect cocoon of intimacy.
She wished she had a means of fighting against it. She had asked Malcolm once if he would consider setting aside his vengeance for a future. She would not ask again, not now that it had become so personal to her. But the thought of losing him…
She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut tightly against the burn of tears as she considered the very real possibility that he might not make it through a confrontation with his brother’s killer.
No. He would make it. He would see justice done, and he would live on. She had to believe it.
“If I could promise tomorrow…I would.” His words were rough and barely audible as they tumbled from low in his throat.
But she heard them. And she understood.
The fist around her heart squeezed tighter as she slid her hand up to curve her fingers around the side of his throat and brush her thumb along the ridge of his jaw.
Turning his head, he pressed a soft kiss to the pad of her thumb.
Alexandra lifted her head from his shoulder to bring her lips to within a breath of his. Holding his gaze, she whispered, “We have tonight.”
As she kissed him, she bent her knee and slid her leg up until her inner thigh covered his groin while he swept his hands up her back and down again to cup her rear.
She moaned softly, flicking her tongue against his.
The flash of fire in his eyes gave her a wild thrill as he rolled her beneath him.
Words of love trembled on the surface of her lips, threatening to cascade in a litany of hopes and dreams that she couldn’t ask him to fulfill.
Love.
Yes, she loved him. It was so obvious, she was stunned not to have seen it sooner.
But it had been present for so long. Triggered by his noble heart and fierce desire to protect her. His acceptance of all that she had finally allowed herself to be. His encouragement and faith in her ability to get past her fears. And his trust that she would do her part in the morning, just as he would do his.
She loved him.
But instead of the realization bringing joy, it was painfully sad. Because he was not free to love her back. He would forever be chained by guilt and regret until he was able to exact revenge for his brother’s murder. Despite everything that had happened between them, the day would come when he would walk away.
No matter how badly she might wish to, she wouldn’t tell him of her feelings. She couldn’t add that burden to everything else he carried.
Instead, she said everything she could with her body. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, opening to him, giving all that she had to give.
Or at least, all he might be willing to accept.
Thirty-Six
They rose before the sun.
Alexandra wasn’t sure either of them had claimed much sleep through the night. They were quiet as they packed up their meager belongings and loaded what supplies they had left onto their horses. Malcolm made sure their guns were oiled and ready. Not just his own, but also the guns he’d gotten off the other three who had come for him. He strapped two guns around his hips and hooked a
nother to his saddle, while two rifles went with Alexandra.
By the time they rode out from the cabin, it looked as though they’d never been there.
Alexandra refused to look back at the place that would forever hold so many beautiful memories. It was time to move on.
They were both on high alert as they retraced the route Malcolm had taken on his return to the cabin the prior day. Before the sun even reached above the tree line, they made it to a narrow ravine perfectly designed for an ambush. If any of the four men were skilled in tracking, they would eventually pass through this spot.
After scouting for a place where Alexandra could hunker down, they found one high atop a southern ridge that provided proper coverage and kept the path of the sun over her shoulder.
“You stay here. Out of sight. No matter what,” Malcolm said, his eyes flinty and hard. “Your only job is to provide cover and a bird’s-eye view. Nothing more.”
She knew their plan well enough, but she also knew she would do what was necessary if Malcolm ended up in the line of fire.
“If things go wrong, you take off,” he said. “Promise me.”
Alexandra shook her head. “I can’t promise that.”
His frown was dark and heavy. “You have to, Alex. I won’t have them taking you.”
“They won’t.”
He stared at her for a long time, then without another word, he crushed her against him and pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. It was over too soon and then he walked away.
She watched him go with her heart filling her throat, hoping with all her might that it wouldn’t be the last time she saw him.
Then she shook off the emotional distraction and set herself up. The best way to ensure his safety was to stay focused on the task at hand. Lying down on her belly beneath the shadowed cover of thick bushes, she kept one rifle in hand while the other lay beside her. Taking steady breaths, she stared at the entrance to the valley, ready for any sign of movement.
She had no idea how much time had passed when she first heard the sound of horse hooves and the creak of leather saddles. A moment later, the first rider appeared in the valley, followed by three more.
