Back on Bittercreek Ranch

by RaeAnne Thayne

  CHAPTER 5

  Fear had a bitter, metallic taste, almost like blood.

  It welled up in her throat, thick and rancid, then spilled into her mouth until she couldn’t breathe around it.

  Something was out there. Waiting. Watching. Something dark and terrifying.

  She wanted to run but she couldn’t seem to make her arms and legs move. She was caught, she realized with horror—tangled in a silken web in a cage of metal that seemed to be in motion.

  With every movement, each frantic effort to free herself, the strands binding her in place seemed to tighten until she was wrapped so tightly she could barely breathe.

  Escape! She had to find a way to break free. She had to. Evil lurked just beyond her restraints. If she didn’t escape and try to stop it, she and untold other innocents would be consumed in a thick cloud of choking smoke and poison.

  But what could she possibly do? She was only one insignificant, cowardly female. Better to stay here. For now she was safe.

  Not for long, she suddenly realized. Nowhere was free from its spreading, cancerous hatred.

  The evil drew closer, until she could smell its fetid breath, feel the enmity blasting off it in hot waves. She cringed inside her silken trap, tried to draw herself into the tiniest ball as she waited for the final blow, yet still it moved closer and closer with a hideous, mocking laugh that seemed to go on forever.

  “Please. Please, no,” she whispered, then cried out just as the evil force reached out to pull her into the tight, suffocating embrace of death…

  “Easy now. Everything’s all right.”

  The voice was hard and masculine but seemed to wrap around her with the same warmth of the quilt covering her.

  Jane blinked away the last dregs of the horrid nightmare and found Mason Keller standing next to the bed. She had left the bedside lamp on before she fell asleep, loathe to face the dark alone, and his features looked strong and commanding in the soft glow of its light.

  “You were dreaming,” he murmured. “A pretty nasty one, by the sound of it.”

  She shouldn’t have found his voice so soothing, any more than she should have found such comfort in his presence. But seeing him standing beside the bed made the world suddenly seem not quite so dark and terrifying.

  She closed her eyes. A nightmare. Those moments of terror were only her imagination. They couldn’t possibly be real.

  “Do you remember anything?”

  She remembered cowering in fear as evil circled around her, ready to move in for the kill. Whether that memory was real or a figment of her imagination, she had no idea.

  “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Only vague impressions.”

  “What kind of impressions?”

  Her hands curled around the quilt as shame that seemed oddly familiar washed through her. “I was afraid,” she admitted softly.

  “I figured as much. You cried out.”

  She wanted to pull the quilt over her head and cringe with embarrassment. Having a nightmare in the first place was horrible enough but she felt invaded at the idea of someone else watching her and overhearing her private night terrors while she slept.

  “Did I say anything?” She held her breath, horridly afraid of his answer.

  For some reason she couldn’t fathom, his gaze seemed to sharpen at her words and she felt rather like a bug under a magnifying lens.

  “No words I could figure out, mostly gasps and cries,” he said. “You did say ‘please’ and ‘no’ a few times but that was about it.”

  Well, that was a relief, she had to admit, though even now the dream seemed to be slipping away from her and she couldn’t remember what could possibly have frightened her so much.

  Perhaps that had to do with Mason’s presence. Despite his continued mistrust of her, something about the man soothed her and comforted, inspired calm and peace.

  She wondered if he realized he had an air of complete competence, that he could handle any challenges thrown his way. As long as he was near, she was safe. No one could possibly touch her while Mason Keller was around to protect her….

  The thought made her frown. Protect her from what? Surely there was no threat to her safety. She’d had an accident in the mountains, that was all. Nothing to cause any alarm or this terrible nightmare.

  “What else can you remember from the dream?” he pressed. “Any little detail might be enough to help us figure out who you are.”

  She didn’t want to tell him anything. It all seemed so bizarre. Paranoid, even. Evil forces, choking clouds of poison. Surely it was only a nightmare. How could the bizarre workings of her subconscious mind possibly help him determine her identity?

  She hesitated for just a moment longer, then slowly told him all she could remember. “I was somewhere dark and suffocating. Trapped. The air was stale and I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to escape but I was afraid to leave. And then I woke. That’s all I can remember.”

  “Nothing else?”

  She decided not to tell him about the evil forces she felt gathering around her, the hatred and maliciousness. He would surely think her crazy if she spouted that kind of nonsense.

  “That’s all.”

  His eyes glinted silver in the low light as they narrowed at her. He studied her for a moment, long enough for her to begin to feel self-conscious of her borrowed nightgown, several sizes too large, hanging loosely.

  Feeling foolish, she tugged up the neckline and searched for a distraction. “How did you know I was having a nightmare?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Lauren asked me to check on you. I’ve been coming in about every hour or so to make sure you’re still breathing.”

  “Oh.” The thought of him coming into her room while she slept and studying her with those silver-gray eyes was enough to leave her flustered, off-kilter.

  She wasn’t sure why she found the idea so disconcerting. Surely he wouldn’t have tried anything untoward while she slept. But he was still virtually a stranger and she hated knowing she had been vulnerable, exposed to him without knowing it.

  “Surely that wasn’t necessary. I’ve been such a bother.”

  “No big deal. I was up, anyway.”

  She let out a breath, conscious of the debt she owed this stranger, despite her discomfort. “You’ve been more than kind, rescuing me today and then opening up your home for me to stay. I don’t believe I ever said thank you. I’ll say it now. Thank you, Mr. Keller.”

  He shrugged, though he looked uncomfortable with her gratitude. “I couldn’t just leave you up there.”

  “Some men would,” she said with certainty.

  “You sound bitter.”

  Was she? Why would that be? she wondered. How could she know with such confidence that Mason Keller was an unusual sort of man? That even though she was alone with him in his dark house, in a gown much too large, she needn’t fear him?

  “What time is it?”

  “Just past midnight. You’ve been sleeping for seven hours straight. I came in and woke you a few times as Lauren ordered but I don’t think you were completely conscious.”

  “Oh, my. I never meant to sleep so long.”

  “Sleep’s the best thing for you. That’s why I let you go back every time you surfaced.”

  “You don’t have to wait up to check on me, no matter what the doctor said. You’re not my keeper.”

  “That’s the whole reason you’re here rather than stashed away in some hotel, remember? So I can keep an eye on you.”

  “Surely Dr. Maxwell didn’t mean you had to stay up all night long simply to watch over me!”

  “Don’t worry about it. I was up, anyway.”

  “I’d always thought farmers went to bed with the sun.”

  His mouth quirked but he didn’t give in to a full-fledged smile. Was he always so solemn, she wondered, or did a sense of humor lurk behind those masculine features?

  She likely wouldn’t be here long enough to find out.

  “First of all,” he
said, “I’m a rancher, not a farmer. Big difference. And second, I had some business to take care of, anyway. I would have been up whether you were here or not, so it was no big deal to take a break every hour or so to check on you.”

  “You can see I’m perfectly fine now, right?”

  An odd light leaped into those silvery-gray eyes. “Perfectly,” he murmured.

  For some reason, that single word spoken in a low voice sent shivers skidding down her spine. This would never do. She couldn’t possibly be attracted to the man. But here in the hush of the night with only the two of them alone in a dimly lit bedroom, she was finding that very difficult to remember.

  She cast her mind about for an innocent topic. “I suppose your children are sleeping.”

  “They’d better be, though putting them down was no easy task. You’re the most excitement they’ve had since the plane ride to the States.”

  She wondered again about the circumstances that had brought this commanding Utah rancher together with two Filipino children but it seemed impolite to ask.

  Perhaps they were his love children.

  The thought whispered in her mind, giving her all sorts of inappropriate thoughts. She instantly wondered what kind of lover he would be, with those big hands and that strong, powerful body. Incredible. She didn’t doubt it for an instant. He would be the kind of man to make a woman’s toes curl and her insides melt into a helpless, quivering mass of need.

  Oh, heavens.

  She fought the urge to fan her suddenly flaming face and had to hope it was too dark in the room for him to notice.

  Where in heaven’s name did that line of thought come from? He was a stranger! How could she be entertaining completely inappropriate thoughts about a man she barely knew? Anyway, hadn’t Charlie talked about their father and mother being dead?

  She searched around frantically for a safe topic of conversation, praying he wouldn’t ask about what might have put such color on her cheeks. She settled on the children.

  “Charlie and Miriam are charming. I enjoyed their company very much this afternoon with Pam. I hope you don’t mind.”

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Actually, I’ve given that some thought this evening and I have to admit, I do mind.”

  She stared at him, disconcerted, forgetting all about how attractive he might be. “I’m sorry?”

  Mason’s features looked hard as granite. “I need to ask you to stay away from Miriam and Charlie. I realize that’s not an easy task while you’re staying in the same house but I have to insist on this.”

  She lifted her chin, a tangle of hurt and embarrassment lodged in her throat. “I’ve lost my memory, Mr. Keller. But I have to believe it’s not contagious.”

  A muscle in his jaw hardened. “They’re my children now and I’m responsible for their well-being. I won’t have them hurt again.”

  “I would never hurt them!”

  “I don’t know you from Adam, lady. I’ve got nothing but your word on that. And the word of a woman who says she has no memory is worth about as much as a pail of hot spit.”

  Jane wanted to argue with him but she couldn’t truly blame him for his caution, his protectiveness toward his children. He didn’t know her. For that matter, she didn’t know herself. Perhaps she was some sort of deranged child killer on the loose.

  No. She didn’t remember her past but she knew in her heart she could never harm either of those two beautiful children—Charlie with the mischievous light in his eyes and solemn Miriam of the rare, sweet smiles. She would rather climb willingly back into that nightmare permanently than cause them any pain.

  She knew she would never hurt them—but she also knew she had no real way to convince Mason Keller of it. And he was the children’s guardian. She had no choice but to honor his wishes.

  “How do you suggest I stay away from them? I suppose I could stay in this room until my memory comes back or your police friend discover my identity.”

  “You don’t have to hide out in here. You’re not a prisoner, you’re a guest.”

  “Not a particularly welcome one,” she couldn’t resist adding.

  “I haven’t turned you out into the cold, have I?” His words were clipped, abrupt, and instantly filled her with shame.

  “No, you haven’t. I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful. I’m not.”

  He sighed. “Look. All I’m asking is that you not encourage the children to form a friendship with you. They’ve been through enough loss and pain the last few months. They don’t need to befriend someone who’s leaving in a day or two.”

  She couldn’t find anything unreasonable in a father looking out for his children’s best interests, though she anticipated a terribly lonely few days alone here.

  “Of course,” she murmured. “I’ll do my best to be as unfriendly to your children as possible.”

  “Thank you.”

  She found the prospect of treating the children with cold civility dismal. It seemed against her nature. In an odd, convoluted way, she found a certain comfort in that. Surely she couldn’t be too terrible a person if she found the idea of hurting two innocent children so reprehensible.

  “Are you all right now if I leave?” he asked after a pause.

  She flushed, embarrassed all over again about that silly nightmare. “Yes. Fine. I’ll try not to disturb your sleep anymore tonight.”

  For some reason she couldn’t decipher, he seemed to find that amusing. “I appreciate that,” he murmured. “But don’t worry about it. I don’t sleep much, anyway.”

  “Too many ghosts?”

  Surprise flickered across his features briefly, followed by a quick, raw pain, then both emotions were quickly concealed. “We all have them, I suppose.”

  Did she? she wondered. Surely she did. Perhaps it was a blessing that she couldn’t remember them.

  Mason headed for the door. “You can keep the light on all night if you need to.”

  She wanted to be brave and strong, to tell him to go ahead and turn off the light, that she would be fine. But the idea of lying here in this strange bed in the dark left a hard, cold knot of dread in her stomach. She couldn’t do it, no matter how deeply she wanted to.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, ashamed of her cowardice.

  She lay there in that spartan bedroom for a long time after he left, gazing at the light and wondering about those ghosts she couldn’t remember and a nightmare she couldn’t quite forget.

  * * *

  Two months away from the job and he was turning soft.

  More disturbed than he cared to admit by his encounter with his guest, Mason opened the outside door and walked out onto the porch. June nights in the high desert valleys of Utah were cool and intoxicating. In the heavy, oppressive heat of Southeast Asia, he’d forgotten how pleasant it could be to walk outside and smell sage and pine and the spicy climbing roses his mother had planted next to the porch the year before she died.

  He inhaled the clean air deep into his lungs then leaned over the porch railing to gaze up at the vast blanket of stars.

  The night was alive with noise—the lowing of cattle, the chirping serenade of crickets somewhere near the house, the leaves of the huge poplars rustling in the breeze. From the Forest Service land that bordered the Bittercreek to the east, a lone coyote howled.

  The mournful sound sent chills rippling down his spine.

  What was wrong with him? He was a trained operative, ruthless and deadly.

  For the sake of his country, he had wallowed in filth and slime, had submerged himself in a world of constant danger and deception.

  He had been able to maintain his cover under extreme circumstances and through his work had helped bring some of the world’s most dangerous and fanatical extremists to justice.

  Vicious characters didn’t scare him, the ever-present threat of exposure had become just another part of his life.

  So how could the low, frightened cries of a woman he didn’t know and didn’t trust
send his insides churning into panic mode?

  He had just been starting up the stairs to check on her when he’d heard those first whimpers. He didn’t like remembering how he’d taken the stairs three at a time to race to her side, how he had reached for a weapon he wasn’t wearing and burst into her bedroom as if he expected to find an entire al-Qaeda cadre inside.

  He also didn’t like remembering the relief that had flooded him when he’d realized she’d only been dreaming—or the strange warmth in his chest as he watched her battle her night demons.

  He should have let her sleep, but he hadn’t been able to stand her soft, mewling cries.

  It had been all he could do not to pull her into his arms, to hold her close and do his damnedest to keep whatever she feared at bay.

  What was it about his mysterious houseguest that affected him so strongly? She was lovely, certainly, with that dark hair and those soft, vulnerable smoky-blue eyes.

  And the accent didn’t hurt. He couldn’t deny he found it an incredibly erotic contrast to stand in the low light of that bedroom and listen to that prim and proper Mary Pop-pins voice while her loose nightgown gaped open just enough to show him a few tantalizing hints of the curves beneath it.

  He closed his eyes, disgusted with himself.

  Despite his undeniable attraction, he didn’t trust the woman. He couldn’t trust her. He had more than just himself to look out for now; he had the care of two grieving children who needed him to be ever watchful, always on guard.

  How long had it been since he’d been with a woman? he wondered again.

  Too damn long, if he could become so aroused by a mysterious stranger with a head injury and a boatload of trouble.

  He had never been some kind of James Bond type, with a different woman on his arm every day of the week. But he was a red-blooded male. He enjoyed women and enjoyed sex.

  But he had the children to think about now. Even if he could find someone willing, he couldn’t just go running around town, scratching any random itch. What kind of example would that set for Charlie and Miriam?