“Why do you condemn my father for what he believes to be true? You can’t deny that what happened with Chelli proves you’re everything people say.”
Delaney’s shrug came in answer and annoyed her. She stared at his profile, noticing the slightly crooked slant of his nose. Broken most likely and more than once, she thought. His cheeks and chin were bristled with a near black stubble that matched the color of his hair. As if the direction of her thoughts had called his attention, he raked one hand through the straight, collar-length hair to push it back from his face. The first strong rays of sunlight picked out rainbow drops of water within its depth.
“What were you doing around here so early, Delaney?”
“Same as you.”
“The same as … You were watching me?”
He wondered how she managed to sound prim, scandalized, and condemning at the same time. Not that he would bother to ask. With his back toward her he opened his buttoned fly, tucked in his shirt, and fastened his pants without apology. The sight of him wouldn’t shock the duchess. She said she’d been married. And if she had nothing better to do than stand and gawk at him, well, he wasn’t going to shy off behind some bushes.
Faith was gawking. She had seen the masculine gesture more times than she could count, but it was her father, her brothers, and Martin that had performed the task. Delaney made it … intimate. Faith hugged her arms around her waist to hold back the tiny curl of warmth that longed to unfold inside her.
Lifting his gunbelt from the saddle horn, he slid it around his hips and buckled it quickly. Delaney reset his gun in the holster. The narrow butt-base made it less handsome than either a Colt or a Remington model, but his Starr .44 was a highly efficient weapon since he could use it as a double-action gun by the use of one trigger, and a single-action by the use of another. The six-shot gun that Eben Starr made for the Union Army had become pretty common out here, but Delaney treasured it, since this one had belonged to his father.
With a smooth move he leaned forward and tied the thongs around his thigh, scanning the woods across from him. He grabbed hold of the reins and stood tall, sure that Chelli had gone.
“Seems to me, duchess, that you should be asking what Chelli was doing here before you start questioning me. Or doesn’t it bother you that he was watching you?”
Faith felt her skin crawl at his low-voiced taunt. She had not spared a thought to what Chelli was doing here. The sight of Delaney, the savagery of him, had wiped everything but him from her mind.
“Yes, of course, it bothers me,” she managed to say in a steady voice. “But you never answered me. Were you watching me, too?” Just saying it again should make her feel somehow violated, but Faith couldn’t summon that feeling.
Delaney turned around to face her. “Sure you want to know?”
There was a remote set to his features that once again reminded her of the rumors about him. Faith took a few steps back. Hard, unpredictable, and dangerous. But she no longer had to depend on gossip. She had seen for herself the violence he was capable of.
“Well, duchess?” He took a step toward her. “You want a lie or the truth?”
Suddenly Faith didn’t want to know. For a brief moment she met his direct gaze, then glanced down at the cynical set of his mouth. This time Faith was the one to turn her back.
“Don’t forget your father’s rifle. A good Springfield is worth its weight in gold in the territory.”
Reluctantly Faith picked it up and held the weapon clutched to her body. She ignored the tremor that weakened her legs. But she wouldn’t let him have the last word. “Will you still take us?”
Delaney was glad she wasn’t looking at him. His slow appraisal of the proud set of her head down to the damp edge of her hem brought to mind his earlier sight of her. A slow heat built inside him. He thought about the kind of taking that would bring Faith to him with sweet laughter, dark and light shadows, and nothing held back. He licked his lips thoughtfully, almost as if he could taste the smooth, cool glide of silver drops from her skin. Absently Delaney rubbed his stone and remembered his own vow. He wasn’t going to find out. But his lengthy silence had her glance over her shoulder at him. He couldn’t meet the startling blue clarity of her eyes.
“I gave my word. It won’t be me who breaks it. If you’re having second thoughts, say so.”
Faith was tempted to say yes. She didn’t want him near her. What could she tell her father? He was upset knowing that Virgil Earp waited in Prescott for his two brothers and their wives to come from Kansas. They had to leave quickly, and that meant they went with Delaney.
“No second thoughts, Mr. Carmichael. There’s coffee and biscuits waiting when you come.”
“Faith, there’ll be no trips alone to any water hole. You’re a sight to tempt a saint, duchess, an’ there ain’t many of them where we’re headin’.” She turned, giving him a glimpse of her flushed cheeks. Delaney had no satisfaction. He stood alone, wishing he had never agreed to take them.
“We’ll head southwest following Walker’s Trail down the Peeples Valley,” an exhausted Delaney explained to Robert once supper was over. He hunkered back on his heels at the man’s side, drawing a crude map in the earth. “The first days will be rough going. From Date Creek,” he said, pointing with a stick as Keith leaned over his shoulder, “we swing south across the Hassayampa and the Agua Fría through low desert and mountains. We’ll stop in Wickenburg, then follow the Gilmer stage road to Phoenix. Again we’ll rest up a day there. Across the Salt River,” Delaney stated, making an X, then a long curving line, “down along the Santa Cruz to Tucson. This is the San Pedro, and your land, near as I can tell, lies across from Tombstone.” He tossed aside the stick, glancing at Robert, sure he still had questions.
“You figure it to be three, four hundred miles?”
“Never gave it no mind. If I was riding alone, I’d likely choose a different way. But this should be safe. Luck rides with us or not. We’ve got to figure delays for weather. And there’s always some talk of stirrings going on one of the reservations. Then there’s your leg. You may not be up to making five, maybe eight miles a day if the going is good. This here desert stretch will cost us time. We travel early, lay up a good part of the day, and then try to get in a mile or two before night falls.”
“Why’s that?” Keith settled himself on the ground closer to Delaney.
“The lay-up’s to protect the mules and us from the sun. Can’t be travelin’ much at night ’cause a wrong step down a rabbit hole and you lose a mule.”
“Your mare, too?”
“No. She’s the best little night rider a man could want.”
“With the extra water barrel and supplies you sent me into town for, we shouldn’t have to worry much.”
“I hope not, Keith.”
Robert used both his hands to shift the position of his broken leg. “What about the Apache, Delaney?”
“I told you I can’t give you a guarantee that we won’t run into them. But I’ll be scouting ahead most days, so I’ll be the first to cut their sign.”
“Ain’t you scared of them?”
Before Delaney could answer Keith, Robert leaned forward. “Ain’t a need for any of us to be scared. We got four new Springfield Trap Doors, boy.”
“There’ll be no killing, Becket.”
Robert’s mouth gaped open to argue, but he couldn’t find the courage to say a word facing the chilling gaze Delaney directed at him.
Nodding his head, he settled himself back. “Fine. I’ll leave them damn savages to you.”
Delaney held back the defense that jumped to mind. He’d met men like Becket before this and would likely run into more. Nothing he said was going to change their views.
“Boy, better get yourself off to sleep. If Delaney is satisfied with the stock, supplies, and wagons, I am, too. Faith fixed up a right comfy spot in the wagon bed with feather ticks, and that’ll do me fine.”
Delan
ey knew she had. He had seen her do a woman’s work and more this day. Much as he tried to spare Keith to help her, he needed to know the measure of the boy and kept him close helping him.
Standing, Delaney set his hat brim forward. “We’re set. I’ll be back at first light to help get the mules in their traces.”
Faith glanced up at him from where she sat apart. It was the first time she had looked directly at him since this morning. She had expected him to bed down with them for the night. Was he going into town to see Edna Mae? The thought annoyed her. She had no right to question him. She had no right to what she was feeling. Faith set aside her mending away from the fire and stood up. She ignored the glaring warning in her father’s eyes when Delaney walked by and murmured good night.
“Mr. Carmichael, please, wait a moment.”
Delaney stopped at the back of the wagon and waited. Faith warned herself she had no right at all to this man. Then, why in heaven’s name was she following him, likely bringing down her father’s anger on her head? Away from the fire the night air held a chill that had her rubbing her arms. She closed out the sound of her father calling her back.
Standing in full view of Robert Becket and Keith, Delaney watched her graceful walk toward him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to thank you for being so kind to Joey and Pris. Joey especially. I know that Beula will slow us down, but Joey loves that cow, and he feels he’s doing something to help by caring for her.”
“No need to thank me. I like them both. Was Joey always blind?”
Faith closed her eyes. She should have been ready for this, but she wasn’t.
“If it pains you, forget I asked. It’s not important.”
When Faith looked at him, he was leaning against a tree, deeper into the woods away from the wagons. She glanced back, hesitating, but her father didn’t call her again, so she went to stand near Delaney, out of her father’s sight.
“Our cabin wasn’t finished, but we wanted to spend the night there. Martin and I didn’t know that Joey had fallen asleep in the wagon until we were home. It was late and a ways from my parents’ house. Martin carried him inside to the sofa in the parlor. Later, Joey … he saw my husband die.” Faith twisted her hands together, trying to still the images in her mind. She wasn’t really lying to Delaney. It was close to the truth. “When I finally got Joey to sleep, he seemed all right. But in the morning he couldn’t see. The doctor wasn’t sure what had caused it or if my brother will ever be able to see again.”
“I shouldn’t’ve asked.” The words were cold and stilted. Delaney didn’t know what else he could say. He knew what seeing a man killed could do to a child. Knew firsthand. Some carried visible scars, and others hid them. Delaney had both. He took his time building a smoke, lit it, and gazed skyward. Through the leafy branches the sky appeared clear, the moon just spreading its light to soften the night edges. But where they stood, it was deeply shadowed. He drew the smoke into his lungs and exhaled it slowly. He wasn’t sure what the duchess wanted by coming after him. He didn’t really care.
“Best I’d be gettin’ on.”
“What if Chelli comes back?”
“He won’t.”
“You sound sure.” Faith wished he would take a drag of his cigarette. She wanted to see his face, and the trees effectively blocked the moonlight.
“I could tell you I’ll make sure of it, or I could say I know he won’t. Either way, you won’t believe me.”
“I want to. I should have told you that I thought someone was moving around behind the wagons last night.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“By morning it didn’t matter. Then Chelli came.”
Delaney reacted slowly to the underlying fear in her voice. He pinched off the lit end of his smoke, crushed it beneath his boot and put the cigarette in his pocket.
“What are you hiding, duchess?”
“Nothing. I’m not hiding anything.”
Delaney let the lie pass. He lifted one leg to plant his boot against the trunk, cupped her chin, and urged her closer to the spread vee of his legs. “What makes you sure it wasn’t me?”
“I just … know.” This close she could smell him, the animal heat of his body, dark and potent. A strange, frightening excitement knotted her stomach and set her heart pounding. She couldn’t admit to having covertly watched him all day while he worked around their campsite, greasing the wagon wheels, redistributing household goods and the supplies in the wagons and oiling the leather traces. He was a quiet man, soft-spoken, easy moving. No motion was wasted, no noise was jarring, no matter what he had been doing. She started to shake her head in denial, but the rub of his callused fingertips against her skin stopped her.
“I was afraid, Delaney. I called out, and I know you would have answered me to set my mind at ease.”
“Maybe. Then again, maybe I want you to stay afraid of me.” He released her chin only to brush his thumb over her cheek. A fire began to smolder in his belly. He could feel the length of her legs barely touching his and wondered if they’d be strong enough to lock around him, no matter how wild the ride. “Go back where it’s safe for you, calico. I’ll scout around before I leave.”
“I’d feel safer if you stayed.” It was as close as she dared come to pleading. Faith wasn’t sure if he moved or she did, but the long hard shape of his thighs were now pressed against her. To keep her balance, she raised her hands to his chest and tried to keep some space between their bodies.
Delaney encircled her waist with his left hand. Her voice was hardly more than a whisper but firm with conviction. It bedeviled him that she seemed so sure of him. “Don’t ever count on being safe with me, duchess. I’m a man, same as any other. I’ll take what’s offered and never look back.”
Faith tried to pull away. His fingers bit into her waist holding her still. “I’m not offering you anything. And I don’t want anything from you.”
“Don’t you?” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, and she jerked her head back as if he burned her. He couldn’t stop himself from sliding his fingers into her hair to cup the back of her head, forcing her face up toward his. She was rigid against him, but he could feel her the length of his body, a feeling so strong and wrenching it flooded him with heat and made him grow hard.
“Tell me, calico, were you wondering all day what I saw this morning? How I felt? What I thought? Is that why I caught you sneaking looks at me six ways to Sunday when you thought I wasn’t watching? Is that why you followed me tonight?”
“No. No, it wasn’t like that at all.”
“Then what was it like? You can feel what you’re doing to me now, can’t you?” His voice dropped to a murmur. “You’ve got eyes that could slide inside a man’s guard and steal his soul if he’s not careful, calico.” He could feel the tremors that rode her body. Or were they his own? He didn’t know, didn’t care. With every word he had lowered his head until his mouth hovered over hers. He inhaled the scent of woodsmoke and a faint bit of something sweet from her hair along with the richer tease of a woman slowly becoming aroused.
“Duchess, I’ll warn you, I’m not your kind of man.”
Faith had been holding her breath, and it escaped in a rush. She could feel what she was doing to him. Just as she felt the power of his hands holding her. Her every tremble acted like a stroking caress from her body to his and back again. He was violent. Dangerous. She couldn’t forget. He even warned her. But the warning disappeared, and the words seemed to drum excitement into the heated flow of her blood.
Delaney burned. Her breathing was suddenly labored as if she had run a long way. Every rise and fall of her breasts pushed them against his chest. He was tempted … so damn tempted.
Temptation curled its lure around Faith, too. She wanted his kiss. Wanted to taste the reckless slant of his mouth on hers. The desire was so powerful that she was shaking from it. But not like this. Delaney was angry, for all that he s
poke softly. She pushed against the unyielding strength of his shoulders, certain it was anger and not desire that kept him holding her.
“Let me go. You don’t really want me, Delaney. You’ve made your feelings plain enough.”
“I have, haven’t I?”
The fractional move he made against Faith stroked her in a long shuddering caress. His breath mingled with hers, and she parted her lips as if he had commanded it. The thud of his heartbeat matched her own. Slow. Heavy. Fierce. It had been so long since someone had held her. So long since Martin had died. Her lashes drifted down. She didn’t want to think, or reason. Her warnings to herself were forgotten. A warmth unfurled inside her, spread slowly to every nerve ending, and Faith heeded its call.
“Why not?” he whispered to himself. “Why the hell shouldn’t I?”
Delaney took her mouth.
It was more than taking. His lips seized and dominated her mouth to punish. His tongue thrust deep inside to overwhelm any resistance she could make.
Faith went stock still. He was ravishing her mouth without desire, almost scornfully sure of himself. But he incited hunger to taste the forbidden, and she couldn’t seem to fight him.
His kiss changed subtly, his grip no longer hard, for his splayed fingers stroked her back as if he would pull her inside himself. His hand entangled in her hair tilted her head toward his shoulder, his knee thrust itself between her legs, rocking gently as he crushed her body to his.
She had never felt such a wild, exploding assault on her senses. The low, hungry sound he made before his tongue swept her mouth again, hot and fierce as if he couldn’t get enough of her, made her cling to him, trembling helplessly. His teeth held her lower lip captive, and she moaned to feel the lightning streaks that rushed to storm her skin, even as he guided her hip against the blatant ridge of his aroused flesh.
Faith curled her fingers into his shoulders, arching closer to the incredible heat of his body, his groan eliciting one of her own. He was hard: the only giving softness she found was in his lips, which urged her into a fever. A hot, wild mouth that tasted of tobacco and him. He was so dangerous. She knew that, for the night seemed to belong to him like the desire he called from her, dark, forbidding, and unknown.
Desert Sunrise Page 6
