From the corner of her eye, she watched Kane walk his horse alongside hers. A tingle of some nameless emotion seemed to curl her insides. Both man and beast towered over her and Sonny. Midnight was at least seventeen hands high; the horse appeared as dangerously fierce as his master, big and black and heavily muscled. As Kane absently stroked his mount's neck, Abby's gaze was drawn to his hands. They were intensely masculine and strong-looking, long and lean and dark. She couldn't help but remember that night at the Silver Spur, the shocking way those very same hands had explored her breasts, oddly gentle for all their strength, cupping her rounded shape and grazing the sensitive peak with the wispiest caress, like the touch of a feather.
Her nipples tingled. She resisted the urge to clamp her arms over her breasts. What was wrong with her? The memory was totally at odds with what she knew him to be—tough as dried leather. Wholly dismayed at the treacherous path her mind had taken, Abby sought shelter beneath a huge cottonwood tree.
Kane was hunkered down at the stream, refilling his canteen. He straightened and glanced around at her. Abby remained silent as he approached. He dropped his hat on the ground and eased down beside it. Pulling the cap from the canteen, he took a long pull. He wiped his mouth, then offered it to her.
Abby hesitated. Although she was thirsty, she was unwilling to put her lips where his had been. To do so seemed somehow ... intimate.
And intimate was the last thing she wanted to be with this man.
Slowly she shook her head. He recapped the canteen, his keen silver eyes fastened on her. "How long have you and your beloved Dillon been hitched?"
His sarcasm penetrated first, the words second. For an instant, Abby's mind went blank. It took a moment before she recalled she'd told him Dillon was her husband. She averted her gaze quickly, uttering a fervent prayer he hadn't glimpsed her confusion.
She said the first thing that popped into her head. "A week."
Kane couldn't withhold the slow grin that curled his mouth. "That's mighty soon to be strainin' at the bit."
"Straining at the bit," she repeated. Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe you'd like to explain that."
Broad shoulders lifted in a lazy shrug. "No need to be so prickly. But it seems like a man just married wouldn't want to leave his wife's side—" He cast a sidelong glance at her. "—let alone her bed. Unless, of course, he found himself chilled to the bone."
Abby's jaw dropped. He was so matter-of-fact she had difficulty believing she'd heard right. Was he trying to shock her again? She didn't know why, but they struck sparks off each other like tinder and flint. It might not have been so bad, except she had the feeling he was going to needle her whenever he could.
She confronted him with a brittle stare. "There's no need to be so crude."
"Crude?" He snorted. "Strange is what it is, lady. I can't think why a man would leave his bride of a week to go chasing after some outlaw. That's no way to start a marriage. He's liable to get his ass killed!"
Fear grabbed hold of Abby's heart. Dillon... dead. Dear God, she couldn't even think it.
"In fact, I'd say it's pretty damn foolish of your precious old Dillon to have left you alone with the likes of Stringer Sam around. Look what happened to your father."
"Dillon had no way of knowing Stringer Sam was anywhere near Laramie." Abby defended Dillon staunchly. "And he has his reasons for going after Stringer Sam. Good ones, too, I might add. He's only doing what he has to do." Lord, was that the truth. "And I'll thank you not to criticize Dillon. I've known Dillon for ... quite some time and—and he's not at all reckless and irresponsible!"
The smirk hadn't left Kane's face. "Quite some time, eh? Let me guess. Childhood sweethearts?"
"We've known each other since childhood, yes." The conversation was circling back in a direction Abby hadn't counted on. She was beginning to question her wisdom in telling him Dillon was her husband.
"Besides," she went on, "what makes you such an authority? Frankly, I don't know how a man like you could know anything about marriage."
Kane felt as if he'd been backhanded. He couldn't help the vile blackness that flooded him. He swept his hat off the ground and stood, his jaw locked tight.
"You've got that right," he said through clenched teeth. "You sure as hell don't know."
The fierceness of his gaze robbed Abby of all defiance. She rose as well, both puzzled and disturbed. For all that Kane was clearly angry, she couldn't banish the uneasy sensation she'd just said something terribly, terribly wrong.
Abby found herself plagued by a nagging guilt throughout the afternoon. Yesterday morning's claim that Dillon was her husband had been pure instinct. She certainly hadn't considered the consequences. Kane's questions about their "marriage" had caught her off guard, and complicated the situation immensely. She hoped he'd been satisfied with her answers; she prayed he'd ask no more questions.
But while she wasn't proud of the lie, she was just as worried about what she hadn't told him. How would Kane react if he knew Dillon was Laramie's marshal? He'd claimed he wasn't a wanted man in Wyoming Territory. But maybe that was because he figured she'd turn him in to the law ... No, she decided. For now that little secret was best kept to herself.
Jagged mountaintops reared high to the east, silent sentinels. To the north and west, the high rolling plateau seemed to extend forever. The heat was scorching and seemed to undulate in wave after wave on the horizon. Late that afternoon they crested a knobby rise. Not too far distant, a small town squatted at the base of the mountains.
Abby reined in Sonny. Kane had pulled in Midnight as well. He sat with one dark hand resting on the saddle horn, staring intently down at the cluster of buildings below.
Her voice broke the silence. "Crystal Springs?"
He nodded, but not before she glimpsed a brief flare of something akin to accusation in his eyes. Her chin lifted. Apparently he hadn't expected her to know where they were. But Pa hadn't raised her to be a simpering, helpless female, she thought stubbornly, and she wasn't about to apologize.
Nor could she resist a cautious excitement. "I thought you said the hideout was a couple of hundred miles north. Are we getting close?"
"Close? Honey, we've got at least another four days of riding ahead of us." He looked at her then, his features harsh, almost brooding. " 'Course, you know you may just be setting yourself up for a big fall. I haven't ridden with Sam for nearly a year. He may have moved the hideout."
Abby's heart squeezed. She couldn't dare consider that—she wouldn't!
With an effort she faced him calmly. "Now who's the one being prickly? I told you before, Kane. I don't expect you to help me for nothing. I'll pay you."
"Who says I'm interested in your money?" With his knuckle he shoved back the brim of his hat. He gave her a leering once-over, his gaze an insult.
Abby felt stripped to the bone. She colored and glanced away. "All you have to do is name your price." Her voice was scarcely audible. "I told you that before."
Her gaze flitted back to his. His eyes were riveted on her face, his scrutiny so unwavering and piercing it gave her a jolt. It was as if she'd been struck by lightning. His expression was dark and hard. Yet oddly, he was the first to drag his eyes away. "We'll settle up later," she heard him mutter. "You can count on it, sweetheart."
He spurred Midnight into a gallop. Abby did the same, keeping abreast with the pair although she soon speculated dryly that Kane might be trying to lose them. He didn't slow until they reached the outskirts of the town.
Abby glanced around curiously. Most of the buildings were small and squat, bleached gray by the unrelenting sunshine. They trotted past a bank and a schoolhouse; Kane surprised her by turning down a side street and reining to a halt.
She soon discovered why.
They had stopped before the general store. He dismounted and turned to her, brashly setting his hands around her waist and swinging her down from Sonny's back. He hobbled their horses to the railing, then turned to her.
&
nbsp; "Why don't you go inside and get those supplies you said we needed?"
A slender brow rose. "Where will you be?"
He jerked his thumb toward a small building at the end of the street.
The soft line of her lips compressed as she peered over his shoulder. Oh, she should have known—it was the saloon! Before she could say a word, Kane turned and walked away.
Abby was only a step behind him. He spun around and glared. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
She matched his stare bravely. "You're not going anywhere without me, Kane."
"Why, sweetheart—" Again those strange silver eyes gave her a perusal that was far too thorough for her peace of mind. "I'm flattered."
"Don't be," she said shortly. "I wouldn't put it past you to sneak out the back door."
At his side, those long fingers curled hard into his palm. Abby had the distinct sensation he wished her neck were between them. "As I recall, sweetheart, that's your trick, not mine. But you're welcome to come if you want. I thought I might ask a few questions, maybe see if your husband or Sam passed through here. 'Course I doubt if anyone will be inclined toward talk once a lady like you walks through the door. I'd have thought you might know by now what men expect of females who like to frequent saloons." Each word was like the prick of a knife. "But if you don't mind everyone thinking you're a whore, hell—why should I?"
He seized her wrist and hauled her up against his side. By now Abby's suspicion had distilled; his point, she realized rather sheepishly, was a valid one. But she wouldn't say she was sorry, not when he was being so deliberately hurtful.
He'd called her bluff and won.
He would have strode away with her in tow if she hadn't resisted. But she did and he turned on her, his features as black as a thunderhead.
"You go on. I—I'll wait for you here." Her head was down, her voice low and not entirely steady.
She couldn't look at him—she couldn't. His grip on her wrist started to tighten. Abruptly he checked himself when he realized her change of heart. He released her with a scowl.
"Don't stand around here in the street," he said curtly. "Why don't you wait in that restaurant there." He pointed to a window next to the general store. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
Abby didn't linger after he left. In the general store, she replenished what supplies they'd used, chatted briefly with the storekeeper and left. In the restaurant, she ordered coffee. After nearly half an hour passed, she decided she'd better order a meal before they sent her on her way. The ham and biscuits smelled delicious, but when they finally arrived, Abby found she was too on edge to eat more than a few bites. More than an hour passed before Kane finally showed up to collect her.
She jumped up from the table. "Did you find out anything?"
He shook his head. Abby's shoulders sagged but she refused to let her spirits sag. There was enough daylight left to ride a little longer; the western sky was aglow with the purple blush of twilight when they decided to make camp for the night. Kane chose a tree-sheltered clearing near the stream they'd been following.
Kane unsaddled his horse, promptly settled his back against a tree trunk and stretched his legs out. He covered his face with his hat and laced his fingers across his abdomen. Ten minutes later when Abby returned from rinsing her hands and face in the stream, he hadn't moved so much as an inch.
She walked by and caught the distinct odor of smoke and strong drink. Squaring her hands on her hips, she fixed him with a glare. She was both disappointed and frustrated that he had nothing to report about Stringer Sam or Dillon, especially after the fuss he'd made about her going with him. Thinking he was asleep, she spoke her mind.
"I have to wonder, mister, if it was really information you were after in that saloon." She muttered her indignation. "Maybe it was just a good excuse for a chance to tip a whiskey bottle again."
She'd scarcely turned her back when she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle, as if in warning.
"Maybe," intruded a quiet male voice into the silence, "you'd like to repeat that."
Abby turned slowly to face him. The air between them was suddenly crackling. "Obviously you heard me quite well," she said stiffly. "But if that's what you want, I'll say it again. I think you're awfully fond of your bottle, Kane."
His mouth twisted. Lord knew he had enough reason to seek comfort in drink. But he'd learned long ago that whiskey didn't change what he was. It didn't change what he had done. It only made him forget... but only for a while.
Bitter fury seeped through him, like a cloud creeping across the sun. No, he thought. There was no ease to be found in the bottom of a bottle.
There was none to be found anywhere.
But she had no right to preach to him, this woman who'd no doubt never known a day of hardship in her life—no right at all.
He rose slowly to his full, considerable height. "You just won't do it, will you? You just won't give an inch. You think I'm the scum of the earth and you're determined I know it. Who the hell are you to judge me?"
"I wasn't." Praying he wouldn't guess her sudden nervousness, she watched him warily. She tried to step back, only to find her way blocked by a massive tree trunk. "I was just trying to—"
"The hell you weren't. You thought I was good enough to help you save your husband's hide. But you forget that when it's convenient, don't you? Well, I haven't forgotten, sweetheart. And you know what? I think it's time for the payoff."
Abby's throat seemed to close off. "What do you mean?"
His smile was not a nice one. "You said all I had to do was name my price. Well, it's time we settled up, sweetheart, and what I want is you."
You. Alarm bells went off in her head. Her heart began to pound so hard she was certain he must surely hear it. "Wait," she began. "I think maybe we should resolve this once and for all—"
He took off his gunbelt and dropped it on the ground. "I quite agree, Abigail."
His easy tone belied the hard light in his eyes. He caught her just above her elbows and stepped forward. There was no mistaking his anger. His eyes were dark gray and depthless, as turbulent as a summer storm.
Abby's mouth went dry. Her breath came fast, then slow, then fast again. "You misunderstood," she said quickly. "I promised you money!"
He shook his head. "As I recall, yesterday morning in Laramie you said, I'll give you anything, Kane, anything you want.' That's another thing I haven't forgotten."
"No!" she cried. "I won't let you do this, Kane. Do you hear? I won't let you!"
"Sweetheart—" That hard smile still hadn't left his mouth. "—you can't stop me."
The softness in his tone was deceptive. Arms like iron bands came around her, dragging her against him. Tension and anger radiated from him, snaring her in a web from which there was no escape. She was trapped, not only by all she sensed in him, but in the steely binding of arms tight and hard about her back.
She had one shattering glimpse of his eyes, filled with fury and a glittering heat, a heat that was far more frightening than his anger. She would have cried out but his mouth came down, sealing hers like a hot brand. For one shocked, frozen moment, Abby remained passive, but only for an instant. She sought to twist away, but Kane allowed no room for struggle. His arms tightened. They were fused together from chest to knee, so close her feet were jammed between his, her breasts crushed against the unyielding breadth of his chest.
She tried to bring her hands up but it was no use. His lips plundered the softness of hers, raw and hungry and ruthlessly demanding. Abby despised her helplessness, but she was wise enough to recognize that Kane's size gave him an unfair but unremitting advantage over her. She was no match for his strength.
But Abby wasn't about to concede victory. Damn his hide, she didn't care if he knew it. She held herself rigid in his arms and when his tongue came out to trace the seam of her lips, she clamped her lips together and barred him entrance.
His head came up. His hold on her eased though he did
n't release her. "What!" he mocked. "Hasn't your husband taught you how to kiss yet?" An arrogant smile curled those hard lips. "Sweetheart, if you gave him this kind of reception seven nights in a row, no wonder he headed for parts unknown."
Though Abby's face burned scarlet, she didn't back down from his sneer. "You're not half the man Dillon is," she said levelly.
"Is that a fact? Well, let me tell you something, sweetheart. I'm beginning to wonder if there's really a flesh-and-blood woman under all those clothes. Let's just see, shall we?"
He moved before she could stop him. His hands came up and flicked open her vest, closing unerringly over the mounds of her breasts. Even as their eyes locked, challenging gray slate with startled blue, he raked his thumbs across her nipples, intimately acquainting himself with her swelling softness.
A red-hot anger choked her. Lord, but he was a snake to touch her so—to handle her so ... when he thought she was married yet! Fury lent her courage—and strength.
She wrenched free of his hold. Drawing back her arm, she dealt a stinging, open-palmed blow to his cheek. "You don't have a shred of decency in you," she hissed. "You're an animal, Kane. And don't ever—ever!—touch me like that again."
Kane's eyes blazed fire and ice. Like hell, he thought fiercely. I'll touch you any damn way I want.
But the thought had no more than crossed his mind when a burst of wheezing male laughter sounded from behind them.
"Well, well, looky here. Looks like you got yourself a stray on your hands, doesn't it now!"
Chapter 6
Son of a bitch.
The curse resounded in the chambers of Kane's mind. He stiffened, his hands falling away from Abby. Slowly he turned to face the owner of that gritty male voice, cursing himself for letting his guard down. If he hadn't been so determined to rile Abby the way she riled him, the keenly honed instincts that had served him so well over the years would never have failed him now.
Not ten feet away were two men on horseback, one lean and stringy-looking, the other heavy-jowled with small, beady eyes that would have looked right at home on a wily coyote. Kane's eyes slid to his gun belt, lying on the dirt six feet away. Shit. If only he hadn't been so goddamned eager to discard it.
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