She ran the tip of her finger around the china cup. "Remember the night you said my daddy probably packed me off to some fancy Eastern school for ladies?" She didn't give him the chance to answer. "You were right. But the truth is, I was only there for a month before the headmistress, Mrs. Rutherford, sent me packing home. She told Pa there was no way in hell I'd ever be a proper lady. She said I couldn't sing. I couldn't dance. She said I walked like a—" Abby couldn't quite hide the quiver of her lip. "—a cow."
The thought of someone so humbling his proud, fiery Abby made Kane see red. The woman must have been mad—most likely jealous! At the same time, the mere mention of her loose, leggy walk pitched him into a realm of purely sensual awareness. Her presence these past days had taken its toll. He had only to glance at her and remember how it had been between them—the sweet, wet heat of her lips beneath his, the way it felt to be buried deep inside her creamy sheath. And he'd dreamed how it would feel to have those deliriously long legs wrapped around his waist
But a sudden thought occurred to him. "You keep talking about your father," he said slowly. "Where was your mother?"
She set aside the coffee. "She died of pneumonia when I was seven. I'm afraid I don't remember much of her. Dorothy and Lucas didn't work for us then. There was just me and Pa and Dillon. But Dillon is ten years older than me. He scouted for the army after the war, so while I was growing up, he was gone most of the time. Pa's the one who raised me."
Her head was bowed low, eyes downcast. Her hands lay clasped in her lap, the pose oddly defenseless. A wistful sadness shone in her expression. It didn't take much to know she was thinking of her father.
He watched her rise and move to the window. Pushing aside the lace curtain, she peered through the glass.
His voice cut through the quiet. "You miss him, don't you?"
She swiped at one cheek. The merest hint of a smile grazed her lips. "I guess it shows, doesn't it?"
Kane was on his feet before he was even aware of it. He wanted to reach out and hold her, to say ... what? Abruptly he checked the impulse, clenching his fists, his features tightening almost bitterly. His conscience stabbed at him. Who was he to offer her comfort or tenderness? Who was he to offer her anything?
"Pa and I had something ... I don't know what to call it except special," she went on. "Maybe it's because it was just the two of us for so long. I don't mean to say that Pa didn't love Dillon as much as he loved me," she clarified quickly, "because he did. But Pa always said Dillon would rather be off hunting down outlaws and searching for adventure than chasing down a stray calf."
Kane stood off to one side. "Your father disapproved?"
She hesitated, resting her forehead against the glass. "I don't think it was so much disapproval," she said slowly, "as it was disappointment."
There was a small pause. "Dillon doesn't have the same feeling for the land that Pa and I had," she said slowly, almost to herself. "But this ranch meant everything to Pa. He worked hard to make it what it is today," she added feelingly. "I can't fail him. I—I won't."
She stared off into the distance, where the amber glow of the sunset dappled acre after acre of grassland. Sheer determination etched the proud lines of her profile.
The blackness in his soul yawned deeper.
Once... once he'd felt the very same emotions that drove Abby at this very moment. He experienced the same bond with the land, the urge to succeed, the desire for success. He'd wanted nothing more than to preserve and protect what was his. It hadn't mattered that he'd gained what he had through marriage. He'd wanted to prove his worth to himself ... and to Lorelei.
He came up behind Abby, losing the battle not to touch her. His hand settled on one shoulder. "What will happen to the ranch now that your father is gone?"
"It belongs to both Dillon and me now. For the most part it will be business as usual. Day-to-day operations will be under my direction instead of Pa's. Any major decisions will be handled by both of us."
She turned. His nearness, as well as the familiarity of his touch, lent her courage. She searched his face. "Have you thought any more about Dillon's job offer?"
Abby knew the instant the question emerged that it was a mistake. His hand fell away from her shoulder. He spoke in a monotone.
"Your memory's mighty short. I turned it down, remember?"
She stared at him, hurt and dismayed, but willing herself not to show it. "Of course I remember," she said at last. "I just thought you might have reconsidered."
"What's to reconsider?" His features shut down from all expression. He had stepped back, and it was as if she could see him pulling into himself... and pushing her out.
"Oh, I don't know." She raised her chin, her tone as cool as his. "But I seem to recall that night at the Silver Spur you said you planned to see if any of the ranchers around here needed a hand."
"I changed my mind." He turned and walked back to the settee.
Abby's eyes drilled into his back. Did he really think he could dismiss her so easily? "No," she said very deliberately. "I think I changed your mind, Kane. So why don't you just admit it?"
That snagged his attention, all right. His head came up. His lips twisted. "Oh, come on, Abby. Do you really expect me to stay on as one of your hired hands? Or have you forgotten what happened between us? And what would your brother say if he knew I took his little sister to bed? Hell, he'd be hauling out his shotgun!"
Abby caught her breath. She hadn't expected him to mention that particular incident; neither of them had dared to speak of it since that terrible morning after ... But more than once she'd caught him staring at her when he thought she didn't see. And she knew the memory was there, simmering just beneath the surface as it did with her, always... always.
Her mouth was suddenly dry as dust. "I don't see why that should make any difference." She wet her lips, wondering what he would say if she begged him to stay, the way she yearned to. "Kane, surely you realize this could be a fresh start for you, a chance to start over."
Ruthlessly he closed his mind against her. Christ! Didn't she realize he didn't dare stay? He was like a lovesick calf around Abby. Oh, he recognized the symptoms—he'd experienced them once before. He'd start thinking about settling down, building a home, a future.
No, he couldn't fall in love. He wouldn't. But it seemed he couldn't help himself either.
Guilt shafted through him. It struck him that he could scarcely recall what Lorelei had looked like— what it had felt like to hold her, to make love to her. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was Abby, her face turned up to his, eyes tear-bright and wanting. All he could feel was Abby, her form soft and sweet-smelling ... the kind of woman he'd always wanted.
The kind of woman he didn't deserve.
It was laughable, really, to think a man with his past could want a woman like her. Savagely he asked himself what the hell he could offer her. Not a goddamn thing—nothing!
Not even the respect of his name.
But Abby wasn't about to let him off so easily. "You know what?" she said suddenly. "I think you're scared, Kane. Deep inside I think you're afraid. I think that's why you're running—why you keep running. From me. From everything."
Anger brought him surging to his feet. "Just because I have no intentions of staying here doesn't mean I'm running, sweetheart."
"The hell it doesn't! Remember the night Sonny was killed? You were the one who said we can't go back. We can't change what happened, so we have to learn to live with it. Isn't it time you learned to live with yourself--with your past?"
His silence was brutal.
"God, when I think of all we've been through... and I know next to nothing about you, Kane—God, I don't even know where you're from! I don't even know if Kane is your first name—or your last!" She blinked back hot, scalding tears.
He saw them and cursed. "What is this? You spill your guts—I spill mine? Well, turn off the tears, sweetheart. They might have worked before but they won't work now. It's no
use prying and digging, Abby, so don't even try!"
He turned his back on her and strode toward the stairs.
Abby was behind him all the way. "Dammit, Kane, you can't just push me aside like this! I gave you what I gave to no other man. I'm not one of your—your whores to be used one night and cast aside. I won't let you use me like this! I deserve an explanation if nothing else."
They were on the landing now. She punched him squarely in the back. "Dammit, look at me!"
He whirled on her. She reared back and would have lost her balance if he hadn't caught her arm. Eyes afire, he stared down into her face. "You want to know why I'm running? Why I'm wanted by the law? Why I'm afraid my past will someday catch up to me?"
"Yes! I—I know you, Kane. I can't believe anything could be as terrible as you think. I can't believe you would do something so—so terrible that you feel you have to hide it from me!"
His laugh was false and brittle. "No? What about murder, Abby? What would you say if I told you I was wanted for cold-blooded murder?"
Chapter 18
The word hung between them.
Abby's heart skipped a beat, but her mind raced on. A choking fear constricted her throat. All at once she recalled what he'd said that night with Sam, the night he'd frightened her so.
There are times a man is capable of just about anything. Her breathing came slow, then fast. She suspected it was true. Kane was indeed a man capable of many things ... but cold-blooded murder?
No, not that. Not Kane.
But for Kane, this moment was everything he had feared. Her reaction was everything he had known it would be. Her face was bloodless, her eyes wide and dark. He made a sound low in his throat and spun around.
He didn't get more than two steps before she snagged his arm. "Kane, wait!"
He tried to shake her off. "Let go, Abby. I'm no damn good—maybe now you'll believe me!"
"Don't say that!" Her nails dug into his forearm. She was as fierce as he.
They were standing at the door to her room. She pushed him inside and slammed the door shut. She stood for a moment, her spine and hands pressed against the door. She pushed him none-too-gently toward the bed. To her shock, he didn't argue, but obligingly dropped down on the mattress. Abby took a place opposite him in the room's only chair.
"Now," she said evenly. "Who was it you supposedly murdered?"
His gaze came up to tangle with hers. "What! You don't believe I'd kill anyone? Honey, I'm an outlaw—a renegade!"
Lord, how she hated his mockery! She was only now beginning to understand that it was directed at himself as much as her. Abby was suddenly deeply ashamed of her doubt, no matter that it had been fleeting.
"You may have killed someone out of self- defense," she stated coolly. "But cold-blooded murder?" She shook her head, her eyes locked with his. "I don't think so, Kane. No, I don't think so at all."
His eyes were the first to slide away. He let out a long rush of air. He no longer seemed angry, just immensely tired.
"Her name was Lorelei." He paused, then said heavily, "She was my wife."
Abby inhaled sharply. So Lorelei was his wife ... No wonder he'd loved her. And then to be accused of her murder ...!
'Tell me what happened," she said softly.
He was silent for so long she feared he would refuse to answer. He thrust his fingers through his hair and scowled. "Christ," he muttered. "I don't even know where to begin."
"Where did it happen?"
"New Mexico."
Her eyes were steady on his face. "Is that where you're from?"
He shook his head, then stretched out on the bed. "I grew up in Georgia." He hesitated, then said slowly, "I didn't have the kind of life you had, Abby. Maybe you didn't have a mother, but you had a father and a brother who cared for you. My family was nothing but poor white trash. I never knew my father. My mother was drunk more than she was sober. She took off when I was just a kid. I spent most of my childhood begging because I was hungry—and then being shoved aside by people who thought they were better than me."
Abby didn't know what to say, and so she said nothing. Somehow she'd suspected as much.
"When I was twelve I ran off and joined the Confederate Army as a courier. By the time it was over I'd seen enough bloodshed to last a lifetime. I decided to head west. For years I just drifted, taking jobs when and where I could find them, leaving when I felt the urge to move on. I finally ended up in New Mexico, working on a ranch breaking horses for a lady who'd just lost her husband." A shadow passed over his face.
Abby bit her Up. "Lorelei?"
Kane nodded. "I started working there a few months after her husband died. Lorelei was young. Inexperienced when it came to running the ranch. She started coming to me for advice. Pretty soon we were spending a lot of time together." His voice trailed off. A faraway look appeared in his eyes.
Abby swallowed. There was an awful constriction in her throat. "You fell in love?"
Again he nodded. "We were married within six months. There was some nasty talk in town about her marrying a hired hand—" He shrugged. "—but neither of us cared."
Abby watched as he hitched his good arm under his head. He stared at the ceiling, but a strange hardness crept into his eyes. She probed very gently. "What happened then?"
"I came home one day and found her lying in a pool of blood, a bullet through her heart. The next thing I knew the sheriff was there, hauling my ass off to jail on a murder charge." His words were clipped and abrupt. "The whole town was real quick to come up with a motive, too. They were convinced I married Lorelei and then killed her just to get control of the ranch."
Abby was appalled. "That's terrible! My God, you'd just lost your wife! How could they be so cruel? So unfair? Especially when there was no evidence—"
"Oh, but they thought there was plenty. A few days before, Lorelei had paid a visit to her attorney, a man named Allan Mason. She had had him draw up the paperwork adding my name to hers in the ownership of the ranch. She had also planned to change her will so that if she died, the ranch would be mine."
She watched as he swung up from the bed and went to stand at the window. There was an uneasy knot in the pit of Abby's stomach. "Planned to?" she echoed. "Weren't the changes completed?"
"No. Her attorney testified she hadn't signed the documents and so the legalities were never completed. Hell, it was the last thing on my mind! She was the one good thing to come into my life ..." He stopped. She couldn't see his features, but his posture was so stiff she could almost feel his tension. She stared helplessly, aware of his pain as keenly as if it were her own.
She was half-afraid to speak, yet she had to know. "Didn't you have a trial? Maybe if you'd told them—"
"Oh, I tried, Abby. But no one wanted to listen. I discovered the hard way that justice is a word for people with power and money. There was no justice for the common man—not for me. I was an outsider, the way I've been all my life—a drifter who happened to be lucky enough to marry the boss. I was tried, convicted and sentenced to hang before Lorelei was even cold in her grave. It didn't matter that I wasn't responsible. I wasn't even there when she was killed! But in the eyes of the law, I was guilty. I didn't want to hang for something I didn't do. So I broke out of jail and ran."
"And you've been running ever since." She didn't realize she spoke aloud until he half-turned. His eyes snared hers, cool and opaque.
A chill ran through her. "Kane, who do you think killed Lorelei—and why?"
A taut silence descended. "I don't know," he said at last. "It was months later before I figured out someone killed Lorelei and set me up to get both of us out of the way—probably to get their hands on her ranch. I woke up day after day knowing her killer was out there somewhere. But I was tired of fighting what I couldn't see, tired of fighting what I didn't know. Hell, I was so damn concerned with just staying alive that at first I didn't even let myself think about who murdered her." He gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. "I guess tha
t tells you what kind of man I am. My wife is murdered, and my only concern is where the hell I'm going to find my next hiding place!"
Abby's heart twisted. There was a world of guilt festering inside him. Didn't he know it was time to let go?
"Is that how you ended up with Stringer Sam?" she whispered.
He nodded. "I was at rock-bottom when I hooked up with Sam and his gang. But Sam was damn good at eluding the law. At the time, staying alive was all that mattered."
He sounded so cold, so distant. His profile was stark and barren. Her heart bled for him, for all he had suffered.
She rose, standing alongside him, compelled by the overpowering need to touch him, but not quite daring to. "When are you going to stop punishing yourself for something that wasn't your fault?" she asked quietly.
He stared at the twisted snarl of tree limbs outside the window, his lips drawn in a relentless line. "I didn't even have the courage to try to fight back. You were right, Abby. I was running ... I'm still running."
"You were desperate to survive." Grasping for courage, she stepped before him. Her pulse skittering wildly, she placed her fingers lightly on his chest.
His tone was haunted. "I've changed. God knows I was never a saint, but all those years of running from the law . . . I've done things I could never tell you about, things I could never tell anyone. If I died today, I'd go straight to hell with no hope of redemption. Doesn't that scare you?"
She shook her head. Her eyes clung to his. "What scares me is the thought of never seeing you again."
Kane stared down at her, at her small hand curled so trustingly against his heart. Where was the stinging condemnation, the disgust and revulsion he'd been so certain he would find? Her eyes were wide and unwavering. The shimmering hope reflected there made his insides coil in dread. Panic such as he had never known shot through him. So much trust. So much faith. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve her.
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