Outlaw Heart

by Samantha James

  But there was nothing there. Nothing but the keening of the wind, and rippling grassland.

  The day had left her physically as well as emotionally drained. She'd felt limp as a wet noodle when she dropped from the saddle. But Sonny had to be fed and brushed down, there was a fire to be kindled and a meal to be fixed. Kane had been seeing to their horses in the evenings. She hadn't realized how much she'd come to rely on his help. Her footsteps were dragging by the time she sat down to a supper of beans. She forced herself to eat, knowing she would need her strength.

  Night descended, heavy and thick. She shivered, for along with the enveloping mantle of darkness came the awful sensation of being the only person in a vast, terrifying wilderness. In that timeless instant when day became night, the wind ceased its restless prowling of the earth. For the span of a heartbeat—then another and another—the world lay still and silent, as if all the earth held its breath. A sudden pop from the fire made her jump.

  She hugged her arms around herself, succumbing to a stark loneliness, and all because of Kane, blast his fickle, outlaw hide! Maybe it hadn't been wise to strike out on her own, but what choice did she have? Kane had been about to abandon her—he'd as much as said so!

  And abandoned was suddenly exactly how she felt. She despaired the hot ache that crowded her throat. Struggling to overcome it, she told herself she was better off alone. She began to list every little grievance she had against him. He was coarse and crude. Rude and arrogant. He'd said things to her that no gentleman would say to a lady, things that were unforgivable—

  Unforgivable.

  She cringed inside. That word might well describe how she had treated Kane. She'd been angry, and so she had struck out. Pa had often said her tongue could cut deep as a whip and now she was ashamed and guilty and so afraid it was too late.

  Pa, she thought bleakly. Oh, if only she'd been able to make Kane see she had to find Dillon. She couldn't lose him, too!

  The hair on the back of her neck prickled eerily. She couldn't banish the strange sensation she was being watched. Somewhere behind her there was a rustle. Her head came around sharply. Her ears strained. She sought to see into the gloom, fighting against a rising panic. But beyond the glow of the fire, the world was laden with shadows.

  Her hand slid along the ground, in search of the Colt she'd laid alongside her bedroll. Sonny raised his head from where he'd been contentedly munching grass, as if he, too, sensed another presence. The wind began to rise, a low, eerie wail.

  Abby's mouth was bone-dry. There was a crackling sound just behind her, like the trampling of grass ... Footsteps! Someone was coming! Who? She thought of Chester and shuddered. Her fingers closed around the barrel of the gun. Lifting it from her lap, she rose slowly to her feet. She couldn't have forced a sound past the lump of fear clogging her throat, but her nerves were screaming. Poised in a half-crouch, she stood still as a statue, her heart pounding so hard her chest hurt. Just when she thought she couldn't stand it anymore, she spied a giant shadow gliding toward her.

  "You there." The sound came out high and thin and quavery. "Don't come any further." She raised the barrel of the revolver and prayed the visitor couldn't hear the fear in her voice.

  The figure halted. Abby caught just a glimpse of cold, pale eyes glittering beneath the brim of his hat.

  There was the unmistakable rumble of swear words.

  Kane. A rush of blind, sweet relief swept through her.

  Two steps brought them toe-to-toe. He scowled blackly. "I'm getting tired of you waving a gun in my face!" He wrested it from her and stuck it in his belt.

  Bravely she raised her chin. She was secretly glad to see him, but pride wouldn't let her admit it, especially to him. "What are you doing here?"

  He laughed bitterly. "Honey, you just proved what I've known all along. You've got no business being out here on your own. Christ, you didn't even know I was trailing you!"

  Hot color flooded her cheeks. Abby recalled the tingle of unease she'd felt several times today. He was right. She should have known he was following her. But she didn't say so. Oh, no.

  "I did, too!" she lied. "Although for the life of me, I don't know why you would bother—unless you intended to shoot me in the back and steal my horse and my money!"

  Hard hands seized her by the shoulders. He hauled her close. "Let's get one thing straight," he hissed. "I never shot anyone—anyone!—in the back, least of all a woman. I know you find it hard to believe, but I do have scruples—not many—but I do have a few. I told you I'd help you find Sam's hideout. By God, I will."

  Her lips pressed together mutinously. "No, you won't. I told you, Kane. I don't need your help. Furthermore, I don't want it!"

  Her loftiness made his blood boil. He was thoroughly disgusted at his spate of conscience. "You just can't stand not to have your way, can you? You, lady, are spoiled rotten." His hands fell away as if he could no longer stand to touch her. He gave a low whistle. Midnight came trotting forward.

  Abby watched as he heaved the saddle from the stallion's back. "You think you know so much about me," she said stiffly. "But you don't know a thing about me, Kane, nothing at all."

  Midnight's bridle in hand, he turned to face her. His stance was supremely arrogant, a hand on his hip, his knee thrust forward.

  The smile he slanted her was rimmed with hardness. "Don't I? Honey, I haven't forgotten you told me your daddy owned one of the biggest spreads in Wyoming. That told me a lot, that and your high-and-mighty attitude. But tell me something, sugar. I'll bet Daddy gave you the best of everything, didn't he? Anything sweet li'l ole Abigail wanted, she got."

  Abby was stung. His jeer was no less than a conviction. "You're wrong," she began.

  "Am I? Honey, I've seen your horse, your saddle, those butter-soft leather boots you wear. Why, I'll bet Daddy even packed you off to some fancy Eastern school for ladies, didn't he?"

  It was on the tip of Abby's tongue to blurt out the truth—that Mrs. Rutherford had kicked her out of her school for ladies. She kept quiet only because Kane would have taken great pleasure in her humiliation. Still, she couldn't help the betraying tide of color that crept up her neck.

  Kane shook his head disgustedly. "Christ, I knew it!" In some far distant plane, Kane was appalled at his behavior. For the life of him, he didn't know why he baited her so. Maybe it was the ugliness inside him.

  Or maybe because it was easier to keep her distant than to let her close.

  "You're a spoiled little daddy's girl, all right," he accused harshly. "Other people might be impressed by Daddy's money, sugar, but not me. You might think everything has to go your way, but I don't see it that way. I don't see it that way at all. You're stubborn and reckless and pigheaded. You don't think of anyone but yourself!" His tone was scalding.

  Stunned by his outburst, Abby tipped her chin.

  "If that's what you think, then why are you here?" she asked quietly.

  In all honesty, he didn't know. He didn't understand his feelings toward her. He owed her nothing. He wanted nothing from her!

  Damn her, he thought fiercely. Damn her for being so young and defenseless and scared. Oh, she tried to hide it. But for an instant she had looked utterly stricken. He steeled himself against the hurt vulnerability he had seen there.

  "I'll be goddamned if I know," he said almost savagely. "Oh, you don't need to worry, though. I'll find your precious Dillon for you, but this time we're playing by my rules, sweetheart. We do things my way or not at all."

  Abby had gone very pale. "I see. And what if I choose not to abide by your rules?"

  He smiled nastily. "I don't see as how you've got a choice, not if you want to find Dillon."

  A helpless fury burned inside her. It was galling to admit that he was right, but she could no longer delude herself. If she were to ever find Dillon, she would have to accept his help.

  From somewhere she dredged up the courage to look him straight in the eye. "Fine," she said with all the dignity she co
uld muster. "But this only confirms my opinion of you. You are rude and arrogant—you're a bully! You are without a doubt the most thoroughly detestable man I've ever had the misfortune to encounter!"

  He dropped his bedroll on the ground beside hers, his expression grim. "Then it sure as hell looks like we deserve each other, doesn't it?"

  Chapter 8

  They were reluctant partners indeed.

  Kane said no more than half a dozen words to her the entire day. The strain was almost more than Abby could bear. He was still angry with her, that much was clear.

  In all honesty, she couldn't blame him. At first, she'd tried to excuse herself. She reminded herself she hadn't told an out-and-out lie. She had simply neglected to tell him that Dillon was an officer of the law.

  She had deliberately deceived him—and wasn't that as bad as a lie?

  But that wasn't the worst of it.

  A gnawing guilt nagged at her incessantly. It preyed on her mind that Kane didn't know that her so-called husband wasn't her husband at all--but her brother. More than ever, she regretted her deception, yet how was she to tell him?

  Some inner voice warned her that he wouldn't take such news lightly. She was almost afraid what might happen if and when they did meet up with Dillon. Good, what a fool she'd been! If only that sense of stark, raw virility hadn't frightened her so ... It still frightened her.

  Her breath came unevenly whenever he was near.

  She'd grown up around more men than women, but never had she been so overwhelmingly conscious of one man's body. Her gaze strayed to Kane again and again. She noticed the way his shoulders stretched the worn cotton of his shirt, awesomely wide and powerful; the sinuous flex of his buttocks whenever he shifted in the saddle. She was secretly mortified that she could entertain such improper thoughts. She was even more shocked that she could be so aware of a man in such a scandalous, indecent way.

  Especially this man.

  He'd kissed her three times now. And three times her body had displayed a shocking will of its own. It made no sense that she should find pleasure in his arms. She should have experienced disgust and revulsion ... as she had with Jake. Kane was, after all, an outlaw. It struck her then. .. She'd expected him to be clumsy and lewd, dirty and evil.

  He wasn't. Oh, he made no secret of his feelings—he was unfailingly blunt, but Abby was honest enough to admit she'd been rashly provoking more than once.

  Her gaze stole to his grim-lipped profile. His lips were drawn in a relentless line. There was an odd tightening in her middle. She recalled exactly what it felt like to have that hard mouth fused against hers, impassioned and demanding ... The thought progressed. She imagined him kissing her with eager, gentle tenderness . . . Gentle? Tenderness? No, not Kane. Dear Lord, she must be mad. The man was tough to the bone!

  They passed through a small town that evening.

  More than ever, Abby longed for a bath. She had never felt so dirty in her life. Dust sifted like flour over her clothes. Even her mouth felt gritty.

  A weathered sign snagged Abby's attention as they moved down the dusty, sun-baked street. It was the local hotel. She reined in Sonny.

  "Wait," she called to Kane. He turned with a lift of those devilishly arched brows. She held his gaze levelly. "We're going to have to stop soon for the night." She nodded at the hotel. The idea of a soft mattress and a bath sounded too heavenly to pass up. "We might as well be comfortable."

  A gleam appeared in his eyes. "Why, Abigail," he drawled, "are you asking' what I think you are? Why, what would dear old Dillon think?"

  Abby shot him a withering glance and nudged Sonny forward.

  In front of the hotel, she dismounted and hitched Sonny to the rail. Kane followed right behind her. Abby did her best to ignore him.

  Thankfully, the hotel had two rooms available. She caught just a glimpse of a small dining area where they could eat. She paid for a room for herself and for Kane, aware of the clerk's puzzled glance traveling between herself and Kane as she handed over two crisp bills. She was aware he thought it odd that she paid for both rooms, but he said nothing. Kane lounged against the counter, as unperturbed as ever.

  Kane carried their gear upstairs. The soft line of her lips tightened slightly as she saw that he had the room directly across from hers. She took her saddlebag and pointedly turned her back.

  A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Two young boys stood there with the small wooden tub she'd requested. They brought buckets of hot water next. Abby rewarded them with a generous tip when the last had been emptied. She shed her dusty clothes impatiently, leaving them in a heap on the floor. She stepped into the water, leaned back and let the heat soothe the ache from her tired muscles. The tub was rather cramped, but Abby couldn't remember when a bath had felt so wonderful. Not even the thought of Kane, disturbing though it was, could dim her pleasure. She soaked for a long time, then washed and rinsed her hair and climbed from the tub.

  She changed quickly, wryly noting it was her last clean change of clothing. Hunger cramped her stomach as she brushed her hair and twisted it into a braid, reminding her she hadn't eaten since this morning. She descended the stairs, suddenly aware of boisterous laughter filtering from the dining room. She paused uncertainly at the edge of the rough, planked floor and glanced inside. She hadn't noticed it earlier, but a bar ran the length of the far wall. The evening hour had attracted a number of patrons. Although the crowd was noisy, they didn't seem particularly rowdy. Still, Abby was just a little ill at ease at the thought of entering the room unescorted.

  "Say, you're new in town, ain't ya? How 'bout I buy your dinner and we'll get acquainted?"

  A whiskered cowboy stepped up before her, an undisguised gleam of appreciation in his eyes. Though the man's demeanor was more friendly than threatening, Jake's leering image flashed in her mind. She shuddered.

  Steely fingers curled around her arm. She was drawn close to a hard, masculine form. "Sorry, fella," said a familiar, grating voice near her ear. "The lady's spoken for."

  The cowboy's gaze traveled from Kane's possessive hold on her arm to the warning glint in his flinty gray eyes. He gulped and tipped his hat, all apologies. "Didn't mean to trespass, mister. No sir-ree." He held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture and backed away.

  "No harm done."

  Kane steered her toward a table in the far corner and saw her seated. Abby's chin lifted as he took the seat across from her. "I'm hardly spoken for," she said stiffly. "Furthermore, I hired you as a guide, not a guardian. And that man seemed very nice. What if I'd wanted to have dinner with him?"

  "Excuse me for doing you a favor—or rather, doing Dillon a favor. And you sure as hell are spoken for, lady, though it's beyond me why the hell I should be the one to have to remind you. But if that's the way you want it—" His chair scraped against the floor, as abrasive as his tone. "—you're the boss."

  She was on her feet even as he was. When he would have stepped past her, she reacted unthinkingly. Her fingers unconsciously caught his arm.

  "Kane... wait!"

  He froze. Her voice was strangely breathless. Beneath her fingertips, the muscles of his forearm were rigid. Her fingers moved, an involuntary exploration. She swallowed, her eyes fixed on the wild tangle of hairs at the base of his throat. The scent of soap and man assailed her—it gave her a start to see that he, too, had bathed. His clean-shaven cheeks revealed a sternly set jaw. Though he was unsmiling, his lips were beautifully chiseled. The muscles of her belly tightened oddly. He wasn't handsome, not in the classic sense, but in some raw, elemental way she couldn't define.

  All at once her heart was pounding almost painfully. The pink tip of her tongue came out to moisten her lips. "I'm sorry," she said haltingly, her voice scarcely more than a wisp of sound. "I shouldn't have said what I did."

  She stopped short of admitting she was wrong, though the reason why eluded her. Normally she wasn't so stubbornly unreasonable. But Kane seemed to bring out the worst in her. />
  She swallowed painfully. "Don't go." Her voice went lower still. "Please."

  His eyes caught hers, dark and relentlessly piercing. If anything, the muscles beneath her fingers seemed to turn to stone. Abby was sorely tempted to snatch her hand away, yet some force beyond her control compelled otherwise.

  Wordlessly he held out her chair for her once again. Abby sat, her breath tumbling out in a rush. She hadn't even realized she'd been holding it.

  As hungry as she'd been, she couldn't have said what food she ate. When the waitress removed their plates, he leaned back in his chair.

  "Mind if I fetch myself a drink?"

  It was on the tip of her tongue to retort that she did indeed. She bit it back just in time. "Not at all." The coolness of her tone matched his. As he crossed the room to the bar, she couldn't help but admire his long, loose-limbed grace. He had nearly reached the bar when a voluptuous brunette clad in a low-cut gown of crimson velvet and lace halted him mid-stride.

  Abby couldn't help but overhear. "Kane?" the woman exclaimed loudly. "Kane, honey, is that really you?"

  He turned. Moist, heavily rouged lips smiled up at him. Abby's eyes narrowed as he took the woman's hand and brought it to his lips. Though she strained to hear, Abby couldn't quite catch his low murmur.

  The woman gave a low, husky laugh. Her dress was cut so low over her bosom it was positively indecent. The material hugged her torso like a second skin, so tight her nipples were clearly outlined. Kane took a bottle of whiskey from the bartender, then glanced over at Abby, a decidedly challenging gleam in his eyes. Abby stiffened when he began to lead the woman over to their table.

  He stopped alongside her, an arrogant smile on his lips. "Fanny," he said easily, "this is my boss, Abigail Mackenzie. Abby, meet Fanny O'Hara."

  The woman let out a titter. "Your boss!" she exclaimed. "Why, Kane, I do believe you're serious!"

  Kane glanced at Abby. His smile didn't falter. "You might say I'm on the straight and narrow."