by Caroline Lee
He was gazing at her, one of his usual inscrutable looks. But this time, there was something in his eyes which told her he wasn’t sure what to make of her. She was inscrutable to him? The idea was laughable.
But when he slowly rose, the book still in his hands, she didn’t feel like laughing. She felt her heart pounding against her ribs and knew—knew—whatever he would say next would be important.
Would he tell her to leave? Tell her to never draw him again?
She couldn’t take that chance. Hurrying to place the coffee down beside her, and to struggle her way out of the blankets, Cora managed to rise to her feet without stumbling or looking more foolish than she already must, with her hair pulled half out of its braid.
He was still staring at her, but she couldn’t let that deter her. No, in fact, the feel of his eyes on her gave her courage. This was the man she’d been fascinated by for months. This was the man she wanted to know.
Ignoring the book in his hand, now dangling by his side, she smiled boldly, hoping it would hide her nervousness, and stepped towards him. He didn’t retreat, and she saw his nostrils flare slightly as she stopped in front of him.
That knowledge gave her the courage to reach up and brush back the lock of blonde hair which had fallen in front of his forehead. He started slightly, and she remembered his confession yesterday about not being used to being touched. Her heart ached for him, so she indulged her fantasy of caressing him.
Her fingertips skimmed over the skin of his temple, then his ear, then around to the back of his neck, while he just stared at her. Her other hand rose to join the first, then she let herself stretch up towards him,
The first brush of her lips against his was tentative, hesitant. When he didn’t pull away, didn’t do anything, in fact, she became braver and pressed her lips against his fully.
She knew how to kiss, had been taught by some of the best. As his lips opened under hers, she felt a jolt of joy go through her. He tasted slightly of mint—how was that even possible?—and she tried to forget she must taste like coffee.
Maybe that was why he wasn’t participating? Because as much as she wanted to taste him, as much as she wanted to kiss him and be kissed, kissing took two participants, and Verrick just stood there.
Before she could fully appreciate the enormity of what she’d done, there was the sound of the leather sketchbook hitting the ground. Both of them jerked away, and before she could even open her eyes, she felt his hands on her wrists, pulling them away from his neck.
How utterly humiliating. Cora vowed to keep her eyes closed for the rest of her life.
He pulled her hands down in between them, as if to say, This is the only way I can keep you away from me, but he didn’t let go. The two of them stood that way for a million heartbeats while Cora prayed for an avalanche, a tornado, the ground to open up and swallow her, anything!
And then she felt his thumbs skim over the sensitive skin on the insides of her wrists.
Was he…was he caressing her?
Cora forgot her vow and peeked up at him.
His expression was hard to read, and those exciting golden eyes were carefully blank. She hated not being able to guess what he was thinking, and wondered if that’s how others—Shannon and Lucas and Blake the ranch foreman and so many others—felt about him all the time. She took a deep breath and waited for him to say something, anything.
Instead, his thumbs skimmed over her wrists once more, and her heart hiccupped in her chest. He was staring at her as if she weren’t relevant at all, but then, how could he still touch her so gently? Was he even aware?
Cora knew she should apologize, but couldn’t bring herself to. It hadn’t been the best kiss of her life, but it had been with Verrick, and she’d never apologize for that.
He blinked, and in that moment, something changed in his expression. She’d never seen the heat, the passion she saw in his eyes in that one brief moment at any time before. But then he jerked with a shudder, and it was gone. He dropped her wrists as if they were repulsive and stepped backwards.
Away from her.
Still, the heat she’d seen in his golden eyes, that one moment of realness, had shaken her. She couldn’t even be disappointed he’d left her, because for one glorious moment, she’d seen the real man behind his mask.
“I scouted this morning,” he said in his usual monotone, bending to pick up the coffee mug, and Cora felt a flash of irritation that he could manage to sound so blasé after what had just passed between them. “I followed our trail back towards the ranch.”
He’d been up that early?
For lack of anything else to do, Cora pulled the tie out of her braid, and combed her fingers through her hair.
Verrick crossed back to the kettle and poured himself the remainder of the coffee. He squatted on his haunches, his powerful thighs bracing the little fire, and glanced up at her. He paused, the mug halfway to his lips, and watched the movements of her hands. Cora hid her smile and took her time, turning each stroke of her hair into something sensual.
His voice was gruffer when he finally spoke again. “I didn’t see any signs of Baker.”
Baker? Two-Grins Baker had been the gunslinger Joseph Pierce had hired in the spring to intimidate Lucas and Shannon. Is that who Verrick meant?
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
He sipped the coffee with his usual inscrutable gaze. Finally, he simply said, “I don’t know.”
In the months she’d known him, it was the first time she’d heard him express uncertainty. It made him sound…normal. And it gave her a little bit of courage.
There were things she had to do, things everyone had to do when they first woke up, but there was no way she would miss out on a conversation with Verrick, especially not after that kiss! So she returned to her bedroll and sunk down, crossed-legged, reflecting how much warmer she was now.
With her hands still busy combing her thick brown curls, she cocked her head to one side as she watched him. “Well, what are the good aspects, and what are the bad?”
He didn’t look like he wanted to explain. No surprise there. The man had to be the most private person ever. But finally, he did. “Baker sent that telegram, saying he was coming after me. It was not unexpected. And so I left a trail anyone could follow.”
Ah. It was beginning to make sense. “You left Sunset Valley because you wanted Baker to follow you away from Lucas and Shannon.”
“And you.”
The addition would’ve been just politeness, had someone else said it. But coming from Verrick, Cora knew how important they were.
Her gaze slammed upwards into his, and she caught her breath at the intensity in his eyes. He’d been worried about her.
She was one of the people in his life he cared about? His son, his daughter-in-law…and her?
A jumble of thoughts clogged up her brain. She wanted to apologize for following him, but she wasn’t sorry, not really. She wanted to defend her choice, to tell him she knew she’d be safe as long as she was with him. She wanted to ask if he was really worried for Shannon and Lucas.
Instead though, she settled on something easier. “Baker is the gunslinger Pierce hired, right?”
Verrick sipped at his coffee, still balanced on his haunches with the grace of a large cat. “Two-Grins Baker is known not only as one of the fastest guns in the territory, but the cruelest too. Pierce hired him to intimidate Lucas, possibly to kill him. When I came into the picture, I believe it negated Baker’s power, which is why Pierce confronted Lucas and Shannon himself.”
Cora would never, ever forget that afternoon. It had been the day she’d seen Verrick hurry out of the kitchen, looking like he was going to be sick. She later found out it had been the moment Lucas had realized Verrick was his father, and had said some unkind things which Verrick overheard. All Cora knew was for the first time ever, Verrick hadn’t been his usual unflappable self, and he hadn’t wanted to stop when she’d confronted him. But she hadn’t b
een able to ignore the pain—the pain!—in his eyes.
That had been the first time she’d touched him. He’d flinched then too.
Maybe this morning’s kiss hadn’t been a total disaster. Maybe that’s just how he reacted to being touched.
To her surprise, Verrick continued his explanation. “I have suspected for some time Baker might return. In revenge.”
Cora’s thoughts skipped ahead. “Because Pierce is dead?” The man had threatened Shannon—she’d been with her sister when it had happened—but Lucas had stopped him. After the fight, Pierce had tried to shoot Lucas in the back, but Shannon had killed him before he could harm her husband further.
“Would he hurt Shannon in revenge for killing Pierce?”
“No.” The answer was curt, as always, and Verrick finished the rest of the coffee, then rose to his feet to wash out the kettle. “I killed Pierce. I was watching the perimeter for Baker, but as far as I can determine, he did not accompany Pierce that day, and in fact, he hasn’t been seen in Black Aces since before that particular day. I came around the corner of the house to see Pierce aiming a gun at—” Was it her imagination, or did his voice catch there for a moment, before he shook himself and squatted beside the stream? “At my son. So I fired the same time Shannon did.”
That day, Cora had been too focused on Shannon to hear anything else, but now she let out a sigh of relief and began to re-braid her hair. “I was surprised Shannon’s shot had hit Pierce so squarely,” she mused. Her sister had no experience with firearms.
“It didn’t,” was all Verrick replied.
Shannon would be relieved to know she wasn’t the one who’d killed Pierce. “Why didn’t you tell them?”
Verrick shrugged as he stood, and Cora didn’t think she’d ever seen someone shrug so gracefully.
“It is irrelevant, because Baker isn’t seeking revenge for Pierce’s death. He’s coming because he knows I’ll be there.”
“Except you’re not.” She tied her braid off and stood, suddenly nervous about what would happen.
He nodded. “I’m heading east, and hopefully he’ll follow.”
Verrick’s golden eyes raked her from head to toe, then back again, and she was reminded of the way he’d looked at her the first time they’d met. Then, he’d been assessing her as a threat. Now, it seemed different somehow. Appreciative?
She tried not to smile.
“I will be leaving in five minutes. If you wish to accompany me, be ready in four.”
He turned on his heel and moved towards his pack, but Cora didn’t care about his abruptness. He’d said she could go with him!
She felt like squealing and jumping for joy, but there was no time. Four minutes to get herself and her pack ready wasn’t much time she reflected as she hurried towards the stream, but it’d be enough.
She was going on the adventure she’d dreamed of…with Verrick!
Chapter Four
Of the last twenty-two years, Verrick couldn’t remember a single time he hadn’t ridden alone. In most cases his reputation had discouraged the curious, and in the rest, his personality had. Most men took one look at him and walked away. And those who didn’t, well, they learned soon enough his reputation was built on truth.
No one had ever asked to ride with him, much less chased after him for just that reason. But it was obvious that’s why Cora was here. She wanted to be with him, and he couldn’t quite figure out why. Oh, he’d seen the way she’d looked at him; it was the same way women had looked at him before. And that kiss had been telling.
But it was more than that. Cora Montgomery wasn’t like any woman he’d ever met before, and she looked at him like no one else ever had.
Which is why he let her come with him, rather than sending her back this morning.
Well, that, and her sketchbook.
He’d known she was a brilliant painter. In the months he’d been at Sunset Valley, he’d seen her work enough to know she had a real talent for capturing, not just the heart of the mountains—or plains or river or hills—but the soul too. Emotions might make men vulnerable, but even he could appreciate the extra something she managed to convey in her paints.
Her sketches though? Her sketches weren’t realistic, not really. Not in the way her paintings were. They were obviously just practices, or a way to remember a landscape so she could put it on canvas later. And the sketches of him? Well, when he first began to flip through, he would’ve said her sketches of him were just practice as well. She was even better at humans than she was at landscapes, judging by the way she’d captured his movements on paper.
But the one of him smiling…Verrick knew she’d never seen him smile like that. He didn’t even know if he could smile like that. A lifetime of detachment meant he didn’t need to smile like that, and had no reason to. But it had been uncanny to flip the page and see himself smiling up like that. Like it was real. Like she had caught him in the middle of a joke.
Verrick didn’t joke.
But the parallel was difficult to ignore. If she could capture the soul of the land in paints, what did that mean as far as her sketches of him? And with the way she saw him as more than others saw him… What kind of insight did Cora Montgomery possess?
It had probably been foolish to allow her along, but he hadn’t regretted it yet. With Lucas keeping Shannon safe at home, and Cora safe with him, Verrick knew he had little to worry about. If everything went according to plan, Baker would follow him, and he’d be able to stand off against the man again.
She chose that moment to speak. “Can I ask a personal question?”
So far that morning her questions had been practical, such as how to follow a trail and how to find a direction, and he found himself willing to answer them without any irritation. In fact, she’d surprised him with her knowledge of the land around the ranch, and he supposed it was due to her wanderings looking for inspiration.
At his silent nod, he heard her take a breath. She was riding behind him, but it was impossible not to be aware of her, every sound, every movement. She was not an experienced rider, even if she kept up, and he needed to be attuned to her, in case she faltered or needed assistance.
He told himself that was the only reason.
“This morning you said Baker wanted revenge. Not on Lucas though, because you’re leading him away from the ranch. Why does Baker want revenge on you?”
How much to explain? Verrick considered before he answered. “He and I have…met before. He harbors ill will, I believe.”
“Did you give him that scar?”
Two-Grins Baker used to be Samuel Baker, before he’d challenged Verrick. It had been a common occurrence, and not one Verrick enjoyed. Young men looking to make a reputation for themselves would call him out, hoping to outdraw him and earn a name for themselves. It hadn’t happened yet, but Verrick was smart enough to know it would one day. That was why he’d made a point of not accepting those challenges. The only time he drew on a man was in protection of his employer or himself.
He'd never, ever drawn his gun in anger.
“Yes,” he finally admitted.
They rode in silence another minute, and he could feel her impatience behind him.
Finally she blurted out, “And? Are you going to tell me how it happened?”
“I had not intended to, no.”
“Verrick.” He liked the way she drew his name out, even if it did sound exasperated. “This is a bad time to learn to tell jokes.”
It hadn’t been a joke. Still, she was curious, and he—unusual for a man content to detach himself—didn’t mind explaining. “Baker was disappointed when I refused to draw on him, so he hid in the livery and ambushed me.” Guns had been useless in such tight quarters, but that hadn’t mattered to Verrick. He’d killed with his hands before. “I cut his throat, but apparently he survived.”
Survived, and still carried the grotesque scar across his throat which had given him his new sobriquet. “Two-Grins” indeed. To this day, Verri
ck didn’t know how the man had survived, and the fact he did rankled.
“Oh.” A full minute went by before she spoke again, her tone still subdued. “That must really annoy you.”
Had Verrick been the laughing sort, he would’ve laughed at that moment. “It’s one of my failures.”
Cora, as well he knew, was of the laughing sort. And she did. “One of them? There are others?”
He usually understood her humor, even if he didn’t allow himself to react to it.
Detach. Calm.
But this time it wasn’t quite obvious why she was teasing him.
“Very few,” he admitted, scanning the landscape for any signs of followers. “I don’t make mistakes.”
“But Lucas?”
The question was so unexpected, Verrick actually turned in his saddle to see her expression. It was skeptical, rather than confused. He wasn’t sure what she was asking.
“Explain,” he commanded.
“Lucas. Wasn’t he one of your mistakes?”
The reality of her question slammed into him all at once, and he couldn’t help the way his eyes widened and he sucked in a breath. Her eyes widened as well, and he knew he’d let her see too much of his emotions.
Lucas…a mistake? He mentally scoffed and turned forward once more, trying to control his anger.
Calm. Calm.
It took a while, long enough for the pair of them to leave the cover of the trees and begin to cross one of the wide valleys, before his heart ceased its angry pounding, and he truly did feel calm once more. Allowing his emotions to run free like that was never comfortable, which is why he fought it as much as possible.
But now he could hear her breathing, and nothing else. The silence behind him was uncomfortable somehow. She’d angered him, why should he feel the need to be polite in return? Had Lucas not shared the conversations they’d had on this subject?
Perhaps not.
Still, Verrick wasn’t going to defend himself or his past actions. Which is why his muttered, “Lucas wasn’t a mistake,” caught him by complete surprise.
