by Lily Graison
He shifted, kissing a path up her body and settled at her side. He was grinning as he looked down at her.
She blinked up at him, and swallowed to moisten her throat. “Where did you learn to do such a sinful thing as that, Colt Avery?”
A small chuckle escaped him as he lifted his hand to push her hair away from her face. “You’ll hate me if I tell ya.”
“I think I hate you for even knowing. Those whores down at the saloon teach you such a perversion?” He lifted an eyebrow and grinned, her hatred of those whores growing when she realized they too had been on the receiving end of his wicked tongue.
Sarah pushed the thought away. Dwelling on it would only drive her crazy. She glanced at his neck, those blasted “love bites” still visible, and that alone was hard to ignore. If she thought about the others, all the women he’d more than likely been with, she’d drive herself insane.
“Nothing happened.”
She focused her gaze back on his face. “What?”
“In the saloon.” He reached up and touched his neck, his finger sliding over one of those marks. “I didn’t pay for no whore in there.”
“So they gave you those for free?” She didn’t want to talk about this and pushed away from him, suddenly feeling very exposed. She sat up, pulled her knees toward her body and wrapped her arms around them to block his view of her. “I really don’t care, Colt, who you do what with. I’m not your wife. You’re free to sleep with whoever you want.”
“Do you want to be?”
She looked over at him, taking in his casual position. He was lying on one side, flaunting everything god gave him. He didn’t even try to cover himself, which spoke of his confidence. He was staring at her, an intense look in his eyes. Seeing him was a distraction and she wasn’t sure what he was talking about now that she realized he’d actually asked her something. “Do I want to be what?”
“My wife.”
The horses shifted nervously, stomping as if agitated. Colt looked over at them before sitting up. He lifted his head, his gaze roaming the clearing before he stood. Sarah was glad for the distraction. She couldn’t have answered his question if her life depended on it.
“Put your clothes on, sweetheart, we’ll have to finish this at a later time. Those horses aren’t twitchy for the hell of it.”
She watched him walk to his pile of clothing before dressing quickly. She stood and did the same. Whatever had those horses restless, it had spooked Colt as well. Either that or regret had slapped some sense into him. A wife was probably the last thing a man like Colt wanted and him throwing it out there was probably something he wished he’d never said.
* * * *
What the hell was wrong with him? Why would he ask her such an idiotic thing? Did she want to be his wife? He almost laughed at the mere thought of it. He’d never wanted a wife. A good woman to shack up with and fuck on a regular basis, yes, but a wife?
He’d seen how whipped a man became when he had a wife. His brother had been led around by his cock until the day his young bride had died, leaving behind a baby girl none of them knew how to care for. He also saw how lost Holden had been once she was gone. He’d been devastated and that was something he’d never wanted for himself. To be so attached to a woman that he’d wander around lost for years without her.
The mountains were just visible in the distance. Another day or two and he’d be home. He could put Sarah on the stagecoach and send her on her way. She wasn’t the type to take up with him without a promise of something more and he wasn’t sure he could promise her that. His wanderlust had a way of sneaking up on him. The need to be out on the range, doing as he pleased with no one depending on him, drove him away from home at eighteen and he hadn’t regretted it a day since.
Seeing Sarah out of the corner of his eye, he turned his head to look at her. Her hair was still down, the ends dancing around her hips with every step the horse made. The sun glinted off those golden strands and damn him if he didn’t want to reach out and touch it. To gather it in his hands and inhale the scent attached to it. He wanted her in his arms, too. He should have never indulged in his little fantasy of having her. Now that he’d seen her, and tasted how sweet she was, he wanted more. He wanted to bury himself inside her so deep he wouldn’t be able to tell where she began and he ended.
His horse danced nervously under him and he tore his gaze away from Sarah, calming the horse and scanning the horizon. He’d yet to see anything since packing up and setting out again but something was out there. He could feel it. The eerie sense of being watched had filled that small shady area and it was still there.
The thought of Virgil and the others being behind them didn’t escape his notice. They’d lingered in that little clearing long enough for them to catch up but as of yet, there hadn’t been a sign of them. He knew Virgil to be a sneaky bastard when he wanted to be but knowing Sarah stole his horse, he’d be spitting mad and loud about it.
The air was calm, not a sound carried on the breeze other than the occasional bird. It was almost too calm. A new fear crawled up his spine as he searched the hills. He’d ridden through these parts enough to know that even if you didn’t see them, they saw you, and as the feeling of being watched grew, his horse dancing under him, Colt knew, they’d been spotted.
“Sarah, if I tell you to go, I want you to strike out in a straight line as fast as you can drive that horse and don’t look back or stop for anything, got it?”
She looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. “What?”
He didn’t look at her, instead, focusing on the direction they were going. “I don’t think we’re alone.” She turned to look behind her. “Don’t look back,” he said, louder than he wished to. She turned to look at him and something in his face must have given him away. Fear filled her eyes moments before they darted from one area to the next.
“What is it, Colt?”
“I don’t exactly know. Just a feeling.” He smiled at her, trying to ease her tension. “Just do as I say. Act natural and keep your eyes open.”
She turned back to the road, her face draining of color. “You’re scaring me.”
“I don’t mean too, sweetheart, but if we’re being followed by who I think we are, you need to be.”
She lowered her head, all that glorious hair fanning out around her shoulders and he saw her peek through the strands to survey their surroundings. He did the same by tugging on the brim of his hat, his arm shading his face.
The trees still lined the road on the left side, the rocky hills on the right in the distance, he was sure, held the most threat. He had no choice but to stay his course. Turning back now would take them days out of the way and he barely had enough jerky left to feed them as it was.
Sarah gasped softly and he turned to look at her. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open. She was staring toward the rocky hills. When he looked, he saw it too. A flash of light, the sun glinting off something. It wavered, disappeared and returned. Half a dozen times he watched that light appear and disappear. A signal. A signal that spelled their demise, he was sure.
The war cry came moments later, that warbling echoing across the plain. He saw them then, the Indian war party spilling down from the rocks like locust, others coming from behind on horses.
“Damn it.” Riding closer to Sarah, he reached out, and slapped her horse on the rump. “Go, Sarah. Don’t stop!”
Her horse bolted, she let out a small squeal but leaned over the horses back as he followed behind her.
He pulled one of his pistols, pulled the hammer back, and waited for one of them to get close enough. Of all the damn luck. First Virgil, the pudgy marshal, and now Indians. What the hell else could go wrong?
Chapter Nine
Sarah saw them but her mind refused to let her believe it. Indians. They were being chased by Indians!
Colt was behind her. She could hear his horse, see it’s brown nose out of the corner of her eye, but she would have preferred him to be right by her side.
She slapped the reins again, trying to drive the horse faster and sent up a silent prayer the animal didn’t miss a step. The ground was even but one never knew when it would suddenly give way. A stray hole and the horse would go down, her along with it.
Colt pulled in beside her. She turned her head to look at him. He extended his arm, one of his pistols locked in his palm. “Take it!”
Sarah reached for the gun. Little good it would do her. She never could hit what she aimed at. She tucked it into her hand, noticing the hammer already pulled back. It was ready to fire. She glanced to her right. The Indians were gaining on them.
Fear crawled its way up her spine. Her stomach rolled, nausea taking a firm hold. She swallowed the urge to throw up and lowered her head, willing the horse to move faster.
A blast from a gun caused her heart to skip a beat. She didn’t dare look to see who fired it. Colt she assumed, but she knew there were those who traded with the Indians for guns. She hoped this band wasn’t one of them. If they were armed, their chances of getting away were slim.
The chase lasted long enough Sarah grew confident they’d actually get away. Moments later, she heard a horse give a deafening squeal. The shouts of men, hoops and hollers, and she turned her head to look over her shoulder. Colt’s horse was down, him along with it. “Colt!”
She sat up and slowed the horse without even thinking. She realized her mistake when the Indians pursuing her gained the distance between them. She lifted her arm, fired at them with the gun Colt had given her and was taken moments later, a strong arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her from the speeding horse. She screamed, struggled and hoped she didn’t break her neck in the fall.
The impact with the ground was teeth jarring. Someone kicked the gun away from her and she lay stunned for long moments before lifting her head. She was surrounded.
She’d never seen an Indian up close and now that she did, she would have lived the rest of her life happily without the experience. Their faces and bodies were painted, bright feathers adorned their hair and most wore nothing but small scraps of material around their waists to cover them. They were all talking at once, laughing as they shouted out words in a language she’d never understand. She turned her head to look for Colt, her heart aching as one of the savages kicked him, repeatedly. “Colt!”
Trying to stand, she was pushed back to the ground by a foot on her shoulder. She stared up at the Indian who’d pushed her down and wondered what they would do with them? With her? She’d heard stories. Stories that made her blood run cold. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away. Crying would get her nowhere and she’d die before falling to pieces. The last thing Colt needed was a woman blubbering like an idiot.
She sat up, pushed her hair out of her face and looked up at the men standing around her. One grinned before reaching for her. She jerked away and stood on her own.
Looking back toward Colt, seeing him on the ground and looking so beaten, the ache in her chest intensified. His face was bloody, pain etched across his features but his eyes were on her. She marched toward him, three large, determined steps taken when a firm hand on her arm stopped her.
Something in that strange language was shouted at her and she didn’t even try to understand what they wanted. She kept her gaze on Colt, offering a silent apology for getting caught.
The Indians surrounding her led her to the others, her stolen horse collected and guided behind her. When she was within a few feet of Colt, her heart nearly broke. He was hurt. She had no idea how badly but she could see it in the strain on his face. One arm was wrapped protectively around his middle and his eyes looked a bit glazed over. He was in pain yet he never took his eyes off her.
When she was jerked to a stop, she glared at the man who held her. “You don’t have to be so rough! A simple, ‘stop,’ would have sufficed.”
They all stared at her before turning to look at each other. That funny language that sounded like gibberish to her once again filled the air and Sarah toned them out, her gaze finding and settling on Colt instead. “Are you all right?”
He blinked at her then smiled. “Never been better, sweetheart.”
She tried to smile back but failed miserably. “What will they do with us?”
“Hard to say.” He coughed, his face contorting with pain. When he opened his eyes back up, he glanced at those around him. “I’m pretty sure you’ll make it out alive, if that’s what you’re worried about. Me, on the other hand, will probably end up lunch for the buzzards.”
“Don’t say that.”
He gave her a look that told her not to be stupid. She looked at those Indians surrounding them and knew Colt was probably right. What use would they have of him? None she could see. Her, on the other hand… She shivered at the thought.
There were untold uses for her, one in particular causing her stomach to cramp. She’d rather die than let one of these men make a slave of her. A slave who did nothing but see to his needs, whatever they may be.
Looking at the hand on her arm, she followed it to the man holding her. He was staring at her hair, his gaze following the locks down to her waist. When he looked back at her face, she gave him a little smile and nodded her head in Colt’s direction. “Let me see to him.” She pulled away from him, in Colt’s direction and hoped he understood what she wanted. His grip tightened, his lips forming a tight line before shaking his head at her.
“Stay.”
Sarah gasped when he spoke in English. “You can understand me?”
Another shake of his head. He didn’t understand. He obviously knew a few English words and that was enough for her to keep trying. She nodded to Colt again, and said, “Please. He’s hurt.”
He shook his head again.
Sarah’s shoulders sagged. He wasn’t going to let her go.
One of the Indians approached, his features set into a mask of fury. His face was painted nearly black, the marking on his chest resembling that of claw marks. His hair was shaved on both sides of his head with a long tail running down the center. His eyes were dark and menacing, his posture spoke of authority. This man led the raiding party. She didn’t have to be told to know. The way the others reacted to him told her so.
He spoke in fast, clipped words, his arm lifting to point at Colt who still lay on the ground. When he looked at her, something glittered in those dark eyes. Something that caused her pulse to leap. He spoke again, smiling at her before the others laughed.
Sarah swallowed the hysteria that tried to choke her. She stared him in the eye and willed herself not to cry.
Colt was finally lifted from the ground. He groaned, his arm around his middle tightening. He faced the Indian with the claw marks on his chest. “I’ve nothing of value. Nothing but the horses.”
The Indian looked at him before turning to the others. Someone spoke in the background and with a simple nod of his head toward Colt, two men grabbed him by the arms and pulled him away.
“Colt!” Sarah struggled in the arms of her captor, fear causing those tears to return.
“It’ll be all right, Sarah. Just stay quiet.”
Easier said than done. They pulled him a good distance away and forced him back to the ground. Sarah took in the scene around her, saw the faces of those strange men, and wondered why she’d been so frightened of Virgil and his gang. At least with the outlaws, she didn’t have to guess what they were going to do to her.
Long minutes of standing left her tired, hot and still scared as the Indians surrounding her pulled at her hair, pinched her in places no man had a right to touch and laughed and talked amongst themselves as they fondled her.
