by Jenna Kernan
He told her about the drifters and the setup and how Bowie had figured it out faster than a streak of lightning.
“He is very quick,” Ellie admitted.
Now Chance felt the nasty coiling snake of jealousy winding through his guts. What did that mean—that Bowie was smarter than him, as well?
“But how will you meet with Bowie if you are supposed to present a facade of ill will?”
He loved the way she strung words together. It was like listening to poetry.
“Hadn’t discussed that.”
“Well, perhaps I could be your liaison.”
“No!” He spoke too quick and too loud. She paused in the street. But he faced her, lips pressed tight. He knew that Ellie had once set her sights on Bowie and that Leanna had always supported her friend’s ambitions. Even with Bowie engaged, it hurt him to think of Ellie mooning after his brother.
Her smile was mysterious, feline and seductive as hell. Who was this woman? She turned to face him and lifted a hand to his cheek, stroking him as if he was her pet. Her hand fell away, but her gaze continued to hold him captive. Had she and Leanna even considered him as a candidate or had they counted him out like everyone else had?
“I wasn’t going to see Bowie directly. But I do see Merritt Dixon quite frequently. She is a gem and Bowie is so lucky to have her. I know she’ll make a perfect wife. I told you about her former husband—the ranger? Killed in the line of duty. I believe it was one of the reasons that she rejected Bowie initially.”
“What were the others?” Chance would dearly love to have a list of Bowie’s faults, because from where he stood, his big brother didn’t have any, unless you counted his lack of faith that Chance could do anything right.
“I believe she did not want to come second to her husband’s profession again.”
That made Chance think of his eldest brother. Quin lived for that ranch, had been married to it body and soul for as long as Chance could remember.
“But he convinced her somehow. I think it’s very romantic.”
There was that voice again. Chance set them in motion and didn’t stop until they had entered the hotel lobby. The lanky fellow with an Adam’s apple the size of a peach pit stared at Ellie from behind the desk, lifting an eyebrow as he saw Chance’s hand on her elbow. Chance nearly drew it back, but pride wouldn’t let him. Instead, he narrowed his gaze on the man, who became suddenly very interested in the registry on the desk.
“He going to cause you trouble?” asked Chance, indicating the clerk with a lifting of his chin.
“He might.” She didn’t even pause as she said it. “But I’d imagine that by noon everyone in town will know that I bailed you out.”
“Then why didn’t you go in first and I could have come in later?”
“Two reasons. First, I do not approve of sneaking about like a child, and second, I’m escorting you to your room so you don’t get into any more mischief.”
The mischief he wanted to get into could be handled very neatly in his room, if Ellie would step inside with him. Chance’s heart began that painful thumping, sending blood south. He frowned. Now he’d have to do the right thing and chase her off, when the truth was he wanted Ellie in his bed. She should have left him in jail. That way she’d be safe from him. As it was, she’d have to rely on his conscience, which was unpredictable at best.
“I thought you did as you were told.”
“If that were true, Leanna would no longer be my friend and I would certainly not be speaking to the black sheep of the Cahill family.”
Ellie had a plain way of speaking that he admired. Most women talked nonsense or in circles and he didn’t know what was in their heads half the time.
They mounted the stairs side by side.
“Why’d you bail me out?” he asked.
“Because I care about you.” She said it in such a matter-of-fact voice that he wasn’t sure if she meant she had feelings for him or that they were friends. They were friends, of course, but recently his musings toward Ellie involved seeing her naked in his bed.
“Well, tonight you cared about a hundred dollars’ worth.”
“Ninty-nine. I owed you a dollar.”
Chance paused to stare at her, that calming smile on her face and the devil glinting in her eyes. She was equally sweet and sassy, intelligent and unbelievably naive. Unless she knew exactly what she was doing?
That thought raised his hopes.
She did not stop her slow climb, but she tucked in her chin in a way that always meant she was up to no good and she gave him that sly smile with a quick shifting of her eyes. The more Chance thought back, the more he recalled that Ellie had not only joined him and Leanna in their mischief, the ideas had often been hers to begin with. What was she up to now?
She stopped before his door. Ellie turned and he captured her upper arms and drew her in. Her back contacted his broken door, which creaked open.
“Why did you bail me, Ellie? The truth this time.”
She met his gaze. “So you could kiss me good-night, of course.”
That idea went through him like a burning Comanche arrow, right to his guts, spreading flames south like a brush fire. This gal did have a way of stirring him up. He wanted to kiss her, too. But he didn’t want to cause her more trouble and he didn’t like being her last choice. He released her and stepped back. She stepped forward.
“It’s nearly morning,” he said.
She smiled.
“Clancy paid me a call last evening.”
“Who?” said Chance.
“Dr. Lewis.”
Now he was chewing rawhide again. Seemed he wasn’t her only interest and she was sure certain to let him know.
“Chance, does that bother you?”
He should say that the man was a decent sort and would make a good husband but instead he said, “He smells like rubbing alcohol and cod liver oil.”
Ellie giggled. Chance saw nothing funny.
She lifted a hand, palm up, and swept the air, motioning at nothing in particular. “This will all be mine someday.”
“You’ll be rich,” Chance realized aloud.
“And I aim to sell it and buy a ranch.”
“What do you know about ranching? You lived in town your whole life.”
She faced him, with chin lowered and eyes flashing. “My whole life is not over yet and I think I could find someone who knew ranching.”
The way she said that made him lift both eyebrows. Ellie didn’t often show that piss-and-vinegar attitude. But it was sure there now.
He lowered his chin and said what was on his mind. “I understand from Leanna that your mother favored Quin for your husband.”
“As did every mother in the county. He owns half of Texas.”
Chance felt the resentment roll. Each of them owned a share of the 4C. But Chance had forfeited his legacy when he had ridden away. He didn’t regret his decision, until right this instant. But sometimes he wished he had land again instead of just blowing over it like tumbleweed. That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
“What about you?” he asked. “Did you favor him?”
“I didn’t discourage him, I suppose. But he wasn’t my first choice.”
He wanted to ask who was but was certain she’d say Bowie, so he said, “Why not?”
“He’s a little too…self-contained.”
“What’s that mean exactly?”
“He doesn’t seem to need anyone or anything. Please don’t misunderstand me. That changed when he met his wife and he loves Addie K. with his whole heart. He’ll be a strong, dependable husband. But he doesn’t seem to need much help.”
“Been that way long as I can recall.”
They shared a nod.
Suddenly his mouth was as dry as cotton.
“Bowie?” he asked, and braced himself.
“Is engaged, but before that my mother pushed me at him every chance she got until she discovered he was not going back to the 4C. I was relieved.
Now mind, I think that Merritt is very fortunate to have him. He’s protective to the point of being fierce. Still, Bowie is a very driven man and attractive—or he would be if he ever smiled.”
“Too serious?” asked Chance.
“Grim,” said Ellie, and tucked her chin to smile that secret smile.
“Grim?”
“I can’t see him pretending to be a horse with a small child on his back or making faces at a fussing baby. Still, he might surprise me.”
Chance felt a hitch in his stomach. “Ellie, can you see me doing those things?”
She gave him a barely perceptible nod.
Chance was feeling more optimistic now. He found he could swallow.
“What about me?” he asked.
“You’re impulsive, demonstrative, childish—”
“Ellie! I meant the good stuff.”
“Oh,” she said, and then giggled. She clasped his hand, giving it a squeeze, and then released him. “You’re kind, faithful.”
He interrupted again. “Faithful? You make me sound like a hound.”
“I know you gave your bounties to Leanna. And she needed them. What would have become of her without your help? So yes, faithful. And I knew you before your parents passed, so I also see in you all the things I’m not—playful, whimsical, funny, lively, daring and joyful. All traits I hope to see again in you.”
Chance reached in his vest pockets to resist the urge to grasp her hand. He touched the warm carved bird nestled there and drew it out, offering it to her.
“What’s this?” She lifted it to study the carving by the light of the nearby lamp. “Why, it’s a little wren!”
“Prettiest song on the prairie. I made it for you.” He realized that he had been thinking of her all along. The little brown bird that went unnoticed until it sang.
“Thank you, Chance!”
She tucked the gift into the folds of her skirt. Then she lifted her hands and pressed them to his chest. Suddenly, he couldn’t move.
Chance felt a cold sensation down his spine, like an icicle skittering on frozen ground. Chance had a nose for mischief and a way of always ending up in the center of it, and Ellie, he realized, was the one who had often led him right into trouble. It seemed Ellie was more like him than anyone knew.
“Ellie? What are you up to?”
She stepped back into the darkness of his room and then turned to him, a perfect welcoming smile that touched her lips.
“Chance, I don’t want to be invisible anymore.” Ellie lifted her trembling fingers and began to unbutton her blouse. She kept her eyes pinned on his. “I know you can see me, Chance. You’re the only one who can.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ellie could not believe her audacity. Had she actually entered a man’s room? Scandalous and exciting enough to make it hard to catch her breath. She hadn’t felt this alive since she’d sat behind Chance, arms looped about his waist as he rode a half-wild horse when they were children. She wondered if he recalled the day as plainly as she.
Chance did not seem certain, either, judging by the way he lowered his chin and glanced about as if someone might happen down the hall at any moment. The room was nearly dark, except for the light from the kerosene lamps in the hall, turned low. She glanced about her familiar surroundings, knowing each room in the hotel intimately, but was still unable to see the chairs, washstand, armoire. But she could see the foot rail of the large double bed. His gaze followed hers and then returned to her.
“Ellie, you best go,” he said.
She would go in a moment. And sometime soon—a day, a week, a month—Chance would go, as well. She held no delusions about that. He was not rooted like Quin, or devoted like Bowie or steadfast like Leanna. But despite all that, she wasn’t quite ready to see his back.
The sensible thing was to walk out. Why didn’t she?
“Ellie, you can’t stay here.” His voice held strain. Was he fighting to do the right thing? Just her luck that his conscience only extended as far as her.
“Where is the boy I knew who used to spit in the eye of the devil?” she asked, stepping closer until she stood toe to toe and had to tip her head to meet his troubled gaze.
“He’s right here, standing next to the man who doesn’t want to shame you.”
Ellie felt her heart ache. He did still care for her, then, but was it the caring of a man for his woman or the concern for his sister’s friend? She prayed that she was not about to make an utter fool of herself.
She looked up into those ghostly blue eyes, gray now in the poor light.
“Do you know what you’re doing, Ellie?”
She took both his hands. “Choosing the only Cahill man I ever wanted.”
His intake of breath was sharp and his eyes rounded.
“But, Ellie, I’m not staying.”
“I know that.” At worst, he would leave her behind. At best, he’d take her along.
“Then why? You could have Doc Lewis and those kids.”
She moved in to rest her head on his shoulder, nestling against his big, warm body, breathing in his scent. “Until you came home, I’d forgotten how it used to be, how I used to be. Back then I did as I pleased and paid for it afterward, like you. Somewhere along the way I stopped being willing to pay the price. But you never have stopped, Chance. You’ve always taken the risks and accepted the consequences.”
“I don’t want that for you.” His arms came around her, holding her tight, as if trying to protect her from herself. “I don’t want to be the cause of your hurt.”
“You brought me back to life, Chance, and have shown me something that makes me willing to take a risk.”
“What’s that?”
“You.”
She felt his chest rise in a long steady breath that he released into a sigh.
“Leanna wanted you to marry Bowie.”
“She did. But she never asked me who I wanted.”
“Ellie, I’ll ruin you.”
She hesitated, drawing back to look up at him. His jaw was set and his muscles bulged. He’d dug his heels in.
She stroked his cheek, thrilling at the coarse stubble that abraded her hand. She let her fingers dance over the corded muscle at his throat and felt his Adam’s apple bob as her hand swept down to rest over his thrumming heart.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, then threaded her hands through his hair and pulled.
He resisted a moment and then drew her in.
Ellie again felt the flutter deep inside her and then a falling sensation as Chance molded her to his body. She opened her mouth eagerly now, pressing their lips together as his tongue danced with hers. His arms tightened about her, so she could barely draw breath. Still, it wasn’t close enough. She gripped her fist in his dark hair and pulled him closer. His hat fell to the floor as his hands slid down her back, over her corset stays and to her waist. He locked his hands there, at the narrowest part of her, as he carefully pushed her back.
Was he trying to put her aside? She clung tighter, not ready for the kiss to end. But Chance was stronger and easily brought them apart. She made a very unladylike lunge at him, but he captured her wrists and held them pinned before her in a game she recognized from childhood. But in that version he’d be preparing to lift her and throw her into the river, squealing like a piglet.
She struggled a moment and then gave up, lifting her face to meet his gaze. His eyes no longer looked blue. In this light they were gunmetal-gray and narrowed to a dangerous glint.
“You got your kiss, Ellie. We go on and I think you know how it will end.”
He released her and stepped back. She stepped forward.
He aimed a finger at her. “You stay clear of me, Ellie, or you’ll regret it.”
His finger hovered before her nose. She licked it.
Chance gasped and drew his hand back, clutching it with his finger still raised like a gun and staring at it as if she’d burned him.
“All right, then. You asked for it.”
&
nbsp; He stalked forward. The predatory look in his eye made her body jump as a thrumming pulse of blood pounded in her ears, her chest and down deep at the junction of her legs.
Chance advanced and she felt a jolt of fear at his expression as he snatched her wrist and yanked. She slapped full against his side. With a move, quick as drawing his pistol, he scooped her up in his arms like a groom carrying his bride, only he didn’t carry her. He threw her a distance of five feet through the air so she landed with a bounce on the bed.
Then he followed, his strides long, his expression dark. He stood on one foot, drew off his boot with an angry swipe and dropped it with a thud. A moment later it was followed by its mate. His hands moved to his hips, releasing the buckle to his gun belt and then the boot knife strapped to his calf.
Ellie found herself inching back. She didn’t recognize this dangerous, frightening man. She had wanted Chance even knowing she’d never keep him, but she didn’t want this.
He had his vest off. Next came his shirt. Ellie watched in cold fascination at the ripple of muscle and the play of light across his ribs and torso. He was broad at the shoulder and tapered at the waist, lean in the hips, and his hand was now at the buckle of his belt. He walked to the table beside the bed, padding silently on bare feet, and struck a match, lighting the lamp resting upon the table. A moment later he had the door shut and had shoved a chair under the doorknob, locking out the world beyond. Then he turned to face her.
“Undress,” he said.
She didn’t. Instead, she clutched a pillow before herself, thinking it meager protection against a man like Chance.
He rested one knee on the bed and leaned over her, his hands now flanking her head as she rolled to her back. His arms were locked straight and the muscles bunched, showing the long ropes of veins beneath skin that was sprinkled with dark hair. He hung suspended above her in the golden glow of the lamp, motionless save for his breathing. She stared up at the dark curling hair on his torso, the gleam of healthy tanned skin and the flat brown nipples. She lifted the pillow up to cover her mouth, as she looked into the dangerous eyes of Chance Cahill, the bounty hunter. In that moment she knew what those outlaws had seen and what they had felt during the last moments of their lives because she felt it now, the same cold terror and certainty that there would be no escape.
