After the Ashes

by Howe, Cheryl

  He returned to drying his horse. “Someone followed our trail to the ranch. Thought it might be Mulcahy.”

  She sagged again at the reminder of the outlaw. She wasn’t safe alone. Nor was she safe with him. “I’m sure you’d be more comfortable in town.”

  He dropped down to one knee and lifted his horse’s right front hoof. “If I leave, Langston might haul you in to see if it brings back Corey.” He picked out a pebble, then went onto the next hoof. “He needs a few notches in his belt to get permanent deputy marshal position.” He examined the last of the four hooves, straightened, and brushed his hands off on his thighs. Reaching out, he grabbed Lorelei’s wrist so casually that she didn’t resist when he pulled her to him.

  “Don’t fight me. He’s watching through field glasses.”

  Lorelei let him press her against the length of his body, but she kept her back straight. He wasn’t going to see her swoon just because his hot breath teased her cheek or his chest brushed against hers. Despite her traitorous body and the things she’d been forced to do to protect her family, she still had a little pride left.

  “If you don’t believe me, you can see the sun reflecting off glass over my left shoulder.”

  A flash of light winked beside a distant clump of cactus, taunting her.

  Braddock rocked her in his arms, nudging her closer against him. She jerked her gaze back to his. She felt the rumble of laughter in his chest as much as heard it.

  His teeth were white and even. It was amazing that he didn’t smile more with such nice teeth. “We need to make this look good. You’re as stiff as…” He laughed again. “Never mind.”

  She gripped his biceps, fighting the urge to lean into him. His little joke about something being stiff didn’t escape her, not when it pressed against her stomach. But she was sure another woman, a lady, would never acknowledge such a thing, even to herself.

  “Why are you going to all this trouble to help me?”

  At her question he seemed to withdraw, though he held her just as close. “I don’t want Langston to get a jump on my bounty.”

  “You think you can use me to trap my brother.” She tried to jerk away. Though his body responded readily enough, he had no trouble separating his cold intentions from any attraction he might have for her.

  His grip tightened. “Hold on there. I want Mulcahy. Your brother is my only lead. If Langston gets him, he’ll be out of commission. And so will you. You could be arrested for aiding your brother, you know?”

  She hadn’t known. Braddock had saved her and appeared to be Corey’s only hope. Though his motivation served his own purposes more than she liked. She put her hands on his chest to push him away. His nearness flustered her, almost convinced her they were allies when in reality they were hardly on the same side.

  “I guess I’d better make you something to eat. Looks like I have no choice but to keep you around.”

  “Before I let you go, I want you to kiss me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Langston’s watching. So far all he’s seen is me grabbing you and you trying to get away.”

  Lorelei wanted to refuse, but she didn’t want him to know such a minor request raised a cacophony of discordant emotions, desire being the most earsplitting. To reach his mouth, she was forced to stand on her toes. He was definitely making her work to hold up her part of their charade. Or was he testing his appeal? She’d kiss him quick and dry and be done with it.

  She slipped her hand around the back of his neck and guided his head down to hers.

  The smooth, warm texture of his lips surprised her, leaving her unguarded for the purely pleasant sensation that washed through her. She allowed the moment to languish longer than she intended while waiting for his restraint to crack. When he didn’t try to force the kiss, just responded to her, she came down on her heels. His grip tightened before her feet landed firmly in the dirt.

  “Not like in the hotel. A real kiss,” he said against her lips.

  His reminder of their shared intimacy convinced her beyond a doubt he was toying with her. He thought he could melt her with his masculine arrogance, but Lorelei knew she was a good kisser. She’d sent many a boy off to war with a dreamy smile on his face, promises of wedding bells on his lips. Braddock would be the one to swoon now.

  With the tip of her tongue she traced the softly parted crease of his lips. When he responded by opening his mouth a little wider, she grew more daring and slid her tongue against his. He was warm and tasted of something sweet, like mint candy. His scent filled her, and she instantly recognized the smell from his bedroll. No wonder she had lain awake thinking of him. His sleeping bag smelled of sage and desert wind, too much like the man. Below the lighter scents was something dark and strong, like worn leather, but not that at all. It was uniquely him, uniquely male. Everything about him wrapped around her like the bedroll, and she couldn’t resist slipping deeper into the lush comfort he offered.

  By the time he worked his tongue into her mouth, she clung to him, kissing him as if her life depended on it. The realization of how far they had strayed from a pretend kiss stiffened her. She would have stumbled in her abrupt attempt to pull away had he not still cradled her close to his body.

  She stared up at him and glimpsed the same wonder where she had expected a satisfied smirk. He was breathing as hard as she. She licked her lips, trying to wipe away what had happened, but even her own tongue against her tingling mouth sent sparks racing over her skin. He looked like he felt the same jolt, because his eyes widened. He appeared on the verge of swooping down and swallowing her whole.

  She dislodged herself from his embrace, unnerved at how easily her plans went astray. “I need to get the stove lit before you have to settle for supper.”

  He nodded. When she turned, he stopped her by sliding his hands down her arm to gently hold her hand. The sweet gesture took her more off guard than if he had roughly pulled her back into his embrace.

  “Lorelei.” His voice sounded impossibly gruff. But Lorelei found the sound pleasant rather than threatening. The deep timbre vibrated through her like a caress.

  He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles in a touch so genteel he had to have learned it at a cotillion. “With me you always have a choice. You can say no at any time.”

  The sudden spark in his hazel eyes prompted her to jerk her hand out of his warm grip. “Fine time to tell me.”

  She did her best twirl, which didn’t have the same punch when she wasn’t wearing a hoop and taffeta petticoats. Even so, she managed to resurrect her old belle-of-the-ball haughtiness. Some things you never forgot, no matter how sad or silly they seemed later.

  A hard slap on her rump ruined her exit.

  She kept on marching, not daring to turn around lest he see the red burning her cheeks, a fiery combination of fury and humiliation. She wasn’t the belle of anything anymore. Not even her own life.

  “That’s my girl,” he called to her back.

  She forced herself not to slam and bolt the door behind her. A quick glance around the room landed on the lone bed. If the display outside the adobe was any indication, it was going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Braddock woke to the smell of sun warmed rain. He propped himself up on one elbow and winced at the pain that shot through his side. Blistering daylight poured through the open windows.

  His gaze wandered to Lorelei’s empty bed. He punched his wadded, sheepskin jacket that served as his only cushion, then seriously contemplated crawling into the space Lorelei had left. The way his heart sped up at the idea made his mind up for him.

  A good portion of the night he had listened to the sound of the heavy rain while cursing the fact that Corey’s trail would be obliterated. In between, he damned the cold, hard floor he slept on. But mostly he held his breath to hear the soft intake of hers. He must be crazy. She asked him why he’d come back. After pondering the reasons all night, he’d found that insanity was his only
explanation.

  Braddock brought himself to his feet. His muscles screamed in protest. The hours of hard labor required to patch up the sorry excuse for a barn had taken its toll. Hunting men was easier. Maybe that’s why he’d become a bounty hunter instead of buying himself a piece of land as he’d intended when he’d first melted west.

  Building a spread in this desolate place required vision, a dream. A man had to be able to carve something out of nothing. After the war Braddock had had neither. Still didn’t. He saw things for what they were. And why he was wasting his time with a woman who was surely going to come to a bad end made no sense.

  He found his boots and pulled them on. Checking on how Lucky fared through the storm kept him moving, though he wanted to collapse in one of the straight-backed chairs shoved under the table.

  If he’d stayed with the sole intent of bedding Lorelei Sullivan, his actions would have bothered him less. There was no denying he wanted her. The kiss he’d insisted on for Langston’s benefit confirmed her vulnerability. If he pushed it, he could easily breach her flimsy resistance. He rubbed his lower back. His long night on the floor proved he was just being a fool, gentlemanlike no less. He had to get out of here.

  He staggered to the table in the center of the one room adobe. Lorelei had set out a porcelain pitcher and basin with a towel neatly folded beside it. Braddock poured water in the basin, then splashed some on his face. Instead of the icy shards he had unconsciously braced himself for, warm water splashed him. His muscles untwisted a notch as the pleasant sensation registered. She must have heated the water.

  A dip in an ice cold mountain stream was what he needed to get him thinking straight again. After he checked on Lucky, he’d see about doing just that—even if he had to ride all the way to Taos to do it.

  He stumbled out the door and squinted against the blinding sun. Left over rain steamed up from the red earth. The fresh smell of sage lingered in the heavy air, making the world seem like it had just had a perfumed bath. One look at the cracked earth and the cactus-choked yard assured him it was still the same old ugly world. He scanned the long stretch of desert grassland. Surely Langston had sought shelter in town. He’d probably be asking questions about Lorelei. The folks of Arriba weren’t much on information, but this time it wouldn't hurt for Ivar to tell Langston about the supplies Braddock had purchased. Langston would never believe Braddock had bought those things out of the sheer goodness of his heart. Braddock himself didn’t even want to believe it. But here he was with his back aching and his hands blistered from swinging a hammer.

  His rational side assured him that capturing Corey Sullivan remained his single-minded purpose. Keeping a naive woman from getting in too much trouble happened to be a not-so-selfish result. Of course, if the first were true, he would have been better served following Sullivan’s trail before the storm obliterated it. Damn. He needed to learn to lie to himself better.

  Finding no sign of Langston, Braddock stepped off the porch and marched toward the barn to check on Lucky. Lorelei’s soft grunt, followed by the crunching of dirt, forced him to veer around to the side of the adobe, almost against his will, to check up on her.

  Standing a few feet from the adobe’s east side, she smacked at the ungiving earth with a hoe. The fierce morning sun pummeled her with its full force. A large bonnet shadowed her face. Long sleeves covered her arms, and gloves protected her hands. He couldn’t see an ounce of skin. Only a long strand of dark hair, curling toward the ground, betrayed that this was Lorelei.

  He was close enough to grab her before she looked up. The lecture her inattention deserved died on his lips. She shot him a smile that left him dazed.

  “Good morning. Sleep well?”

  “The rain kept me up and the floor was hard.”

  Her beautiful smile wilted. It happened as slowly as a leaf fluttering to earth. He felt like he’d just smashed a butterfly under his boot heel.

  “I’m sorry. I should have insisted you take the bed after all the hard work you did yesterday. The rain didn’t bother me a bit. Made me feel like I was back home. Give me a minute to clean up and I’ll get your breakfast.”

  Braddock broke up a clump of dirt with the toe of his boot. She actually was sorry he hadn’t slept well. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given a damn whether he lived or died, much less cared how he slept. And he’d thought he liked it that way.

  “I’ll just check on Lucky.” He glanced at the hoe she had propped against the adobe. “Then I’ll finish whatever you’re trying to do here.”

  “Lucky’s fine. I picketed him in the shade of the barn. Once the sun came up, the poor thing was sweltering.”

  He swung his gaze in the direction of the barn. Lucky had his head to the ground, scavenging for anything edible that popped up after the rain. “He doesn’t like strangers. He could have hurt you.”

  She laughed and removed her green leather gloves. “He’s a sweetheart.”

  He raised his eyebrows and she laughed again.

  “If you know how to treat him. And I do. My family used to train horses.”

  Braddock nodded, unable to dispute the results. Another glance at Lucky proved she did know how to treat him. The big bay munched grass as leisurely as a cow chewing its cud. Braddock reached for the hoe, feeling as docile as his horse. Obviously Lorelei knew how to handle him, too, because it looked like he was going to do some farming.

  “I guess you want me to plant something.”

  She pulled off her bonnet and he tried not to stare at the cascade of hair that tumbled down her back and over her breasts. The scent of something sweet drifted toward him. He tried to think of the name of the flower, but all he thought was Lorelei—as if she had her own genus.

  She fanned herself with her wide-brimmed straw bonnet, fluttering her hair and making it impossible not to stare and even harder not to touch.

  “If you could just till while I start the biscuits, I’d appreciate it. I was hoping the soil would be softer after the rain, but I’m afraid it’s not.”

  Braddock raked the hoe over the crusted dirt. Even sage brush would have trouble growing here. “What are you planting?”

  She shrugged and looked away, as if she read his thoughts. “Just a kitchen garden. I brought our one at home to seed. Maybe a few flowers, too. Roses remind me of my mother.”

  He didn’t bother to hide his disbelief. To his credit, he hadn’t interrupted her to tell her she was crazy. He let her finish first.

  “You might want to try some local crops.” Like tumbleweed and dust devils.

  She must have noticed the tug at the corner of his lips, because she lifted her chin slightly. “Thank you for the advice, but I’m sure the seeds I brought from home will do fine. I’m known to have a green thumb.”

  He leaned on the hoe. Why bother stopping her? She was hopeless. Let her ruin her pretty hands and fry that milky white skin of hers trying to make the New Mexico desert the blue hills of Kentucky. She didn’t have enough gloves for the job. He remembered the pink satin ones she’d worn to his hotel. The soft leather she now wore was a bit more practical, but not much.

  “You got a lot of gloves, don’t you?”

  She neatly folded the items and tucked them in her pocket. Her sad smile made him hate the tone he’d used.

  “I had a pair to match every outfit. I had to part with the gowns but my hands are too small. The gloves didn’t fit anyone else.”

  He stared at her bare hands for a long while, not liking the turn of his thoughts one bit. There were a few thing he’d like her to do with those small hands, and not one of them had anything to do with farming. He studied the horizon, wishing he’d never brought the subject up in the first place.

  He straightened, then took off his shirt and handed it to her. “I guess I’d better get to work if I’m going to earn my breakfast. I’m starving.”

  “Oh.” Her face flushed and once she stopped staring, her gaze fluttered everywhere but on him. “Aren’t y
ou going to burn?”

  “This won’t take that long.”

  “Oh,” she said to the red dirt splattered on the cream stucco wall. “I’ll call you when breakfast is ready.”

  She headed around the house, her skirts and the ribbons of her bonnet sailing behind her in a trail of lavender. Lavender was the fragrance she wore, but it smelled just like Lorelei on her.

  Braddock propped the hoe’s handle against his bare chest while he rubbed his hands on his thighs. A grin tugged at his face. He should probably quit thinking about the way she had watched him peel off his shirt. Still, imagining the flush on her cheeks spreading across her pale breasts made the job at hand a lot more palatable.

  The first hard jolt into the soil reverberated up his arms and banished his lustful thoughts. He needed gloves but wasn’t about to destroy his one good riding pair. He adjusted his grip on the hoe and tried again. He would need a shovel to till this ground. Not that he had ever really planted anything before. Growing up, he had played around at helping in the garden at his parents’ country home, but he certainly didn’t know what he was doing. And apparently neither did Lorelei.

  He should tell Lorelei her project was hopeless. But she’d just break her back doing what he refused to. The look in her eyes when she talked about her mother’s roses told him she wouldn’t give up. Experience had already shown him she was blind to what she didn’t want to see. Even when believing the impossible would be the death of her.

  Braddock shielded his eyes with his palm and scanned the horizon. Still no sign of Langston. At least the man was smart enough to recognize a lost cause. Anyone who would break his back trying to hoe a desert must be either married or insane, or most likely both. Braddock had seen too many good men pour their souls into an indifferent, hostile earth with nothing to show for it but heartache and hungry mouths to feed. He’d be doing Lorelei a favor if he stopped acting like her plans had half a chance.

  The rich smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted out to him. He turned but caught only a glimpse of Lorelei walking in front of an open window, then back again. A soft, breathless song followed her movements. He stood perfectly still, straining to hear what this misguided woman felt there was to sing about it. She wasn’t singing. She was was humming. Even worse. He didn’t recognize the tune but it sounded like some sort of Irish jig.