Lois Greiman

by My Desperado

  Chapter 8

  “Breakfast.” Katherine wet her lips and pushed the bedroom door open. She supposed she should become accustomed to sharing his room. After all, they’d survived the week’s end together, closeted up here, hidden from the world. Yet being near him was no easier now than it had been in the beginning. She knew that under those blankets he wore nothing more than a pair of battered trousers, conveniently cut off at the thigh to permit access to his leg wound. She kept her eyes on the heaping tray of food and tried to cover her nervousness. “Hungry?”

  Ravenous was his first thought, but not necessarily for food. Travis sat propped against multiple pillows and watched her face as she entered. Spending the past three nights alone with her had almost killed him. He’d found himself wishing more than once that she’d left him in the woods to be decently consumed by a wolf rather than lie in the darkness and listen while others found the carnal satisfaction denied him. He couldn’t bear her nearness much longer without losing his mind. The simple brush of her fingers against his was enough to send his imagination soaring and his heart thumping madly. God help him, he should leave, but he knew he lacked the strength. And when he went, he’d take her along, and would need his full health to get her to some haven of safety.

  “Feeling better?”

  She was sitting near him again, watching him with those wide, otherworldly eyes. Her hair was neatly coiled atop her head, showing the slight dip in the center of her hairline, aligning perfectly with the top button nestled just below her delicate chin.

  Travis could do nothing but watch her and could think of nothing decent to say as she continued to chatter.

  “Fresh air would be good for you, I suspect. But, of course, we can’t chance it. Still, you’ve had so little time to recover, and you already look so… hale,” she finished, her tone sounding ragged. “You look hale already.”

  Despite himself Travis’s nostrils flared. God help him—he looked hale, while she looked like something he could eat for breakfast. So sweet and tender that he kept his mouth firmly shut lest he be tempted to take a bite of her.

  Katherine uncovered the tray. It contained nothing less than a thick steak—cooked rare—three eggs, two slices of bread, and steaming coffee. She shrugged as he eyed the platter in surprise. “I can get you some chocolate to drink,” she said enthusiastically. “It’s wonderful. Just as good as in the chocolate houses.”

  “I’m not one for chocolate.”

  Katherine’s eyes went round. “No chocolate?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” She fumbled for a moment, losing herself in his eyes and clearing her throat nervously. ”Lacy says a man your size needs a good deal of food to fully recover.”

  Lacy. Travis could bet the old carrot-topped crone knew exactly what he needed. Why had she chased Katherine, the innocent, into his room like a rabbit into a wolf’s den?

  But, he reminded himself grimly, better his den than some other wolf’s. His gaze fastened on the tray as he tried to ignore the full, gentle curve of her bosom behind it. Better himself, he repeated mentally. She was safe with him. Safe. He repeated the words like a mental chant, but when he reached to take the platter, his fingers brushed hers, burning on contact, scorching his senses.

  “Do you need help with breakfast?” she asked, her husky voice causing the hair to rise on the back of his neck. “I can’t imagine how you manage at all with your left hand.” She shook out the linen napkin and leaned nearer. “I’m absolutely hopeless without my right.” She bit her lip and placed the linen just so, partially covering the breadth of his bare chest. “I could feed you if you—-”

  “Goddamn it, woman!” Travis swore abruptly. His body quivered with explosive frustration. “Don’t touch me!”

  Her face, when he looked at her, held an expression of utter shock, her eyes wide and brimmed with tears.

  “Oh, God,” he moaned, covering his eyes with one hand. “Don’t cry.” He drew a ragged breath. “Please, don’t cry.”

  She backed away a step, her hands shaking, as did her voice. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t cry.” His tone had become wheedling he knew. But he’d rather face a troop of first rate militia than cope with one crying female. Especially this female, whose very touch inflamed him.

  “It’s my fault,” she said solemnly. ‘They’d never have accused you of murder if I hadn’t forced you to take me to Grey’s. My fault.” She sniffled once.

  He closed his mind, trying not to hear her despair. Trying to pretend he was elsewhere, tracking Yankees maybe. But there was no safe harbor. Without thinking, he set the tray aside and then slowly got out of bed.

  “It’s—”

  Katherine felt his arms wrap around her, and his chest was warm against her cheek. She should draw away she knew. She should be ashamed of her weakness, of her thoughts—of his nudity. But God forgive her, the strong embrace of his arms felt like heaven, like a safe haven from the horrors that had found her.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the taut muscles of his chest.

  His left hand stroked her back, while his right simply cradled her against him. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Yes.” She sniffled, feeling a single tear slip from her cheek to be caught and spread between their bodies. His arms felt immensely strong, his body warm and firm. “If I hadn’t been with Patterson…” She shrugged, remembering her need to save Daisy.

  He shushed her again, noticing her ears for the first time. Fascinating, how tiny an ear could be. How alluring. He touched it gently with his fingertips then followed the curve of it downward. She shivered. He felt the tremble, transferred from her lovely softness to his aching form.

  “If I hadn’t…” she began again, but her line of thought had been disrupted.

  “Shhh.” He stood a full head taller than she, though she was not a small woman. “Quiet, lady,” he soothed, and kissed that ear ever so gently.

  As a young girl, Katherine had seen fireworks. But never had she felt them. Never until now. They exploded at the lobe of her ear, sending light sparking off in every direction. She slipped her arms about the incredible width of his chest and pulled him closer now. “Mr. Ryland.”

  Don’t let her speak, he reminded himself. He was teetering on the edge of no return, and if he heard that lovely molasses voice, he’d fall, taking her with him, down to his level.

  She turned her face, finding his eyes. They were warm, deep-set eyes that said so much. “Mr. Ryland,” she whispered again, failing to realize the incongruity of such formality with a nearly naked man clutched to her body in a deathlike grip. Love me, she thought, but said, “I’m sorry,” in that same way she used to in an attempt to gain her father’s approval.

  “Shhh.” Travis closed his eyes, shushing her through his gritted teeth and feeling the deep burn of his shaft throb against her thigh.

  “It’s all my fault,” she said, not certain why she felt such a scorching ache to hold him. Only knowing that her need was deep. “I should never have been…”

  He drew her closer, smelling the fresh fragrance of her hair.

  “Never have been there…” She pressed up against him, breathing hard. “With Patterson.”

  “Don’t.” He moved stiffly back a pace, taking her arms in his large hands. “Don’t say you were with Patterson.” His eyes bore into hers. “I know it’s a lie.”

  Katherine stared at him in silence.

  “I know it wasn’t you who was with him.”

  Frustration welled within her. Never before had she been held in the strong warmth of a man’s arms, and she wished now to feel that warmth again.

  “You weren’t with Patterson,” he said, shaking her slightly. “Admit it! It wasn’t you. You’re not that kind of woman.”

  All her life she’d been told what kind of person she was. What she should be. What she should do, and suddenly she ached to shock them all.

  “I am.” She stared at him, her body stiff, wanting for once to
be accepted, shortcomings and all. “And yes, I was.”

  “No one would believe that,” he gritted. “No one. Not with the way you speak. Like a polished lady. And the way you dress.” He scowled down at her gown, and she returned his expression.

  “What’s wrong with the way I dress?” she questioned evenly.

  He shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to find his discipline. “It’s hardly the kind of thing a woman wears to seduce—”

  “So you think I can’t be seductive? Is that it?” She drew away stiffly, burning with an emotion she failed to identify.

  He stared at her, thinking her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But her wrath offered some safety—from himself, from his need. “Yeah.” He nodded bluntly. “That’s what I think.”

  “Well, you’re wrong.” She said the words evenly, her back straight as a board, her face hot. “Others do find me attractive. You think I’m not that kind, but you’re wrong.” She shook her head, her mouth pursed. “You don’t know how wrong you are.”

  “Katherine.” He’d pushed her too far and reached for her now. “I didn’t mean—”

  She slapped at his hand. “Oh, yes, you did. You think I’m an old dried-up prune. But not everyone shares your esteemed opinion.” She lifted her nose, and turned, heading for the door. “Don’t expect me here tonight.”

  His hand caught hers in a hard grip, turning her quickly toward him. “Don’t say that. Do you hear me? Don’t say it.”

  She gasped, staring in shock, then laughed, perversely pleased that she had upset him. “Why? Because you don’t want to be proven wrong?” She leaned nearer, eyes narrowed as she tugged her arm from his grasp. “Well you are wrong. How do you think I pay for this food? This bed?”

  She paused, breathing hard. “Sleep well,” she said, and twisted toward the door. “I’ll be busy tonight.”

  “Over my dead body,” he growled, grabbing her arm. “Goddamn it! We’re leaving. And we’re leaving now!”

  “No!” she yelled and struggled against him.

  Travis would never quite figure how it happened. But suddenly there were women everywhere, half-clad women draped by pairs on his arms, legs, and back. And not gentle, refined women, but strong, uninhibited women who yanked him away from Katherine.

  “Get him down.”

  “Over there.”

  “On the bed.”

  He tried to get free. But every time he got a grip on something, there was an outraged shriek and numerous fists beating on his person. Confusion smothered him. Fleshy bodies buried him.

  The long strips of bandages appeared seemingly from nowhere and suddenly he found himself tied, bound to the bed’s headboard like a rabid beast.

  “What’s all this?”

  Noise subsided. Half-naked bodies moved aside as Lacy MacTaggart stepped through the mayhem, her brows lifting as her gaze fell on Travis’s strapped body.

  “Having a wee bit of fun, are we, lasses?”

  Daisy stepped from the bevy, her wild hair scattered like a disrupted bee’s hive. “‘E was botherin’ Miss Katherine.”

  Lacy’s gaze skimmed silently over Travis, starting at his eyes and floating down over his short cropped and painfully revealing britches. “What kind of bothering?” Her voice was flat and threatening.

  Travis pulled his bonds taut and snarled.

  “‘E’s a dangerous one,” Daisy whispered shakily.

  “He pulled my hair,” complained Garnet.

  “I broke a nail,” whimpered Julia.

  “Quiet!” Lacy warned. A hush fell. She turned slowly, her gaze falling on Katherine’s pale face near the door. “Speak, Katy, love or I’ll give him to the girls for amusement.”

  Katherine wrung her hands. Travis Ryland lay stretched and tied on the bed, his eyes burning her face. “He tried to leave,” she explained weakly.

  Lacy’s brows lifted dubiously. “And?”

  Katherine wasn’t sure how all this had come about. It had happened so quickly. “And he tried to take me with him.”

  Lacy shook her head and tsked. “Bad boy,” she said. “I don’t like men who try to take women against their wills.”

  There were a few snickers in the background.

  Travis glared.

  Katherine considered fainting.

  Lacy turned. “Katy.” She crooked a finger at the blushing girl. “I’ll be needin’ a talk with you.”

  Chapter 9

  The room contained no frills. It was an office and nothing more. Lacy MacTaggart appeared absolutely at home there.

  “This used to be a peaceable house,” she said, leaning into the spindle back of the room’s only chair and folding her hands atop her generous lap.

  Silence enveloped the room, and Katherine shifted her weight, feeling very much like the knobby-kneed girl who had so often cringed beneath her father’s disapproval. She stared down at her shoe, making a crescent pattern on the carpet with the toe. “He tried to leave.”

  “Uh-huh.” One plucked brow was arched over Lacy’s olive-green eyes as she waited.

  “I thought we were getting on better.” Katherine lifted her chin slightly. “He and I.”

  “But?”

  “I just offered to help him eat.” Katherine felt the now familiar blush rush to her cheeks as she recalled his bare, tempting chest.

  Lacy’s gaze held the girl in a firm grip, reading a great deal more than her words. “Offended was he?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Lass, what I don’t know about men ain’t worth learnin’,” sighed Lacy. “In fact, most of what I know ain’t worth learnin’.”

  They stared at each other, neither talking for a moment before Katherine bit her lip. “I think he’s quite—”

  Giggles emerged from upstairs, accented by a low, threatening growl. The sound of scattering feet followed, and then the bang of a door thudding closed.

  The blood drained from Katherine’s face. “Upset,” she finished weakly.

  MacTaggart sat in quiet study, listening to the pattering feet, watching Katherine’s pained expression. There was more here than met the eye. It was unusual for a man to scare a bevy of half-clad women from his room, no matter what the circumstances. And what were the circumstances exactly? People rarely surprised her anymore, but these two…

  “He eats like a horse.” MacTaggart said the words flatly, watching for the girl’s reaction.

  “I’ll pay as soon as I’m able.” Katherine had lifted her chin a notch, and something in Lacy’s chest twisted at the sight. Her little Emily would have been that kind of a lady, had she lived.

  “Do you have any money?”

  “Not just now. But I’ll earn it,” assured Katherine.

  “How?” Lacy asked baldly. “And when?”

  Hoping to appear calm and confident, Katherine remained unmoving, but she looked worried and pale.

  “I’ll feed him and you,” Lacy said, rising suddenly to her impressive height. “Best cuisine in town. We’ll keep you hid. My clan’s got secrets of its own. They won’t mess with yours. Tomorrow morning I’ll start up some rumors saying folks like the two of you have been seen some distance from here—heading east.”

  Katherine remained very still, her hands caught together in a deathlike grip as she stared at Lacy. “In exchange for what?” she asked quietly.

  “Coo, miss, ‘oo’d of thought you was ‘iding so much bounty under them dowdy dresses?”

  “Turn,” Margaret said, pushing on Katherine’s nearly bare hip.

  “Look at her waist,” complained Dory, taking another bite from a raspberry tart and moaning when a blob of the filling dropped onto her gown. “Damn near big as my arm.”

  She licked the sweet from her sleeve, ate the remainder in one large bite, and plopped onto her elbow.

  Garnet looked up after she pinned the hem. “She’ll look like a princess.”

  “Men’ll be drooling on their tools.”

  “Beggin’t’ pay ju
st t’ ‘old a lady’s ‘and,” added Daisy with a mischievous grin. “Lacy’s a genius.”

  “We’ll cut it down to there,” declared Margaret.

  “Where?” asked Katherine in shock. She had been prodded and turned and measured until her heart sat in a cold lump of dread in her throat and her face burned a permanent shade of scarlet.

  ‘There,” said Margaret, casually tugging her chemise a half inch lower. “Just above your nips.”

  “Just above…” Katherine gasped, her hands flitting upward to cover the twin globes that pressed into view.

  “Now, miss,” Daisy crooned, hurrying to take her hands. “You’ll look like livin’ ‘eaven.”

  “And,” proclaimed Margaret, hurrying behind, “we’ll cut it down to here in back.”

  Katherine turned, trying to see where they pointed.

  Margaret flung an arm around Katherine’s shoulder to squeeze her tightly. “And the men’ll love it.”

  “Begging for favors.”

  “Dyin’ for more,” chirped Daisy.

  “And you’ll just lean into their faces like this,” added Dory, rising to her knees on the mattress and leaning forward to show every inch of bosom above her nipples. “So they’re looking right straight into heaven.”

  “And if that doesn’t work…” began Julia, who then lowered her voice to a whisper.

  In the next room, Travis gritted his teeth, yanked savagely at his cotton bonds, and tried not to hear the giggles. He’d lain in purgatory for hours now, listening to the women’s chatter from next door and wondering what they had planned. Goddamn them all. If they soiled her, he’d drown every one of them in their own toilet water. He yanked again, but the bed did little more than groan a complaint. Damn them all to hell!

  Footsteps sounded in the hall. Dinnertime?

  Travis narrowed his eyes and waited.

  A mattress moaned, voices mingled. Minutes passed. Finally a key turned in the lock, and Katherine entered.

  Travis lay flat on his back, his arms stretched above his head as he watched her draw near.

  She moved hesitantly, bearing a covered tray and showing by her expression that she’d not considered until now just how he would eat in such an unlikely position.