by Howe, Cheryl
When he drew close enough to smell beans with a smoky hint of bacon cooking over an open flame, Braddock tried to squeeze back into his old shroud of indifference. It didn’t work. When it came to Lorelei Sullivan, he was anything but indifferent.
Yet if he wanted to do the right thing by her, at the very least he had better adjust to being frustrated. Of all the emotions battling for control, frustration was his safest option. He should keep his hands and thoughts off her and deliver her to the first marriage minded farmer he stumbled across. He ran his fingers through his hair and stomped the rest of the way back to the licking flames of the camp fire.
Lorelei knelt next to the fire, stirring a pot that hung on a tripod. When she saw him, she smiled. “Hungry?”
Against a rock, Corey silently spooned food into his mouth. His gaze spit heat when Braddock strode directly to Lorelei.
Braddock squatted beside her and winced.
“What’s wrong?”
He shifted, taking the weight off his wounded leg. “The graze from Langston’s bullet is starting to throb. Once I clean the wound it’ll be fine.”
“I’d forgotten in all the excitement. I’ll take a look at it for you.”
“Don’t bother. It’s nothing.”
Corey sneered at the exchange. Braddock half expected the kid to stick his tongue out.
Lorelei ladled stew onto a tin plate, either purposely ignoring or not noticing her brother’s imminent combustion. “I’ll take a look at it after you eat. It might need a stitch or two.”
“All right.”
Braddock couldn’t help but grin, forcing Corey to stare into the dented tin cup that served as his dinner plate. His satisfaction deepened when he noted he received the better utensils. Braddock settled beside Lorelei, glad that he wasn’t one to do the right thing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lorelei stared into the deep blue darkness that had swallowed Corey while Christopher eased his pants past his thighs. Her suggestion that Corey check the horses had earned her some time alone with Christopher. Her goal now accomplished, a bout of nerves threatened to swamp her purpose. She needed to be reassured that Christopher still intended to help clear Corey’s name. Though Corey would never be convinced.
She set her pan of warmed water on the ground, then knelt in front of Christopher. When she dabbed a wet cloth around the blood encrusted wound, he involuntarily tensed in a protesting jerk.
“Sorry.” Her glance to his face stopped at his hips. His shirt tented with the beginning of arousal. She quickly returned her gaze to his wound. “I guess it doesn’t hurt that bad.”
“Guess not.”
The laughter in his voice reassured her. His lighthearted tone belonged to the man who’d convinced her with his actions if not his words that he could never hurt her or her brother, one who differed greatly from the man who’d bested Langston and ridden them hard into the middle of nowhere.
She cleaned the wound efficiently, touching him no more than necessary. The graze didn’t even need a bandage, much less a stitch. Which was a good thing, because she didn’t care for the longing that touching him brought. Her need to be reassured that he was the man she thought he was went far beyond her desire to help her brother. She wanted to keep Christopher for herself, if only for a little while longer.
She stood without looking at him. “You can pull your pants up. I’m done.”
He did, then fell back into morose silence. Both he and Corey had been like two surly dogs since they returned from their discussion behind the rocks. Corey’s cutting glares let her know he was furious. The only words he’d spoken were a hissed promise to leave at the first opportunity.
She rinsed the cloth she had used to clean Christopher’s wound in the pan of water, then dumped it onto the dirt. The ground beaded, making the water look a solid thing. How quickly would it dry a person out if one got caught out here all alone? No matter what, she couldn’t let Corey set out on his own.
“Did you get the information you needed from Corey?”
Braddock stared into the fire. “Enough.”
The dull metal of his pistols caught the firelight, and Lorelei wondered if he wore them for protection from intruders or to keep her and Corey under his control. Corey was clear on what he thought.
“What are you going to do?”
Braddock moved away from the ring of light cast by the fire and sat with his back against a boulder wedged in the sand. His face was masked in shadow.
“Find Mulcahy and bring him in. Corey’s going to have to show me the places they’ve been so I can pick up his trail.”
She settled beside him, not giving him the chance to melt away from her so thoroughly. She sat far enough away so they weren’t touching, but close enough so he could reach out and take her hand. It was silly, but she wanted him to do just that. “Corey still thinks you plan to turn him in.”
“Aren’t you worried about yourself? You’re in trouble with the law, too.”
She found it more convenient not to think about that. If she focused on helping Corey, she could ignore the fact that they were all fugitives or that she wanted this man to be more than just a bounty hunter whose main concern was catching his prey.
“Corey’s in a lot more trouble than me.”
He draped his arm around her shoulders, then pulled her against his side. He briskly rubbed her arm with his palm as if warming her. She scooted closer and laid her head on his shoulder. The warmth of his solid body seeping into hers had her feeling right again.
“If you keep trying to protect your brother, you’re going to catch up with him.”
“Corey doesn’t believe you want to help us.”
Braddock remained silent for so long, she feared he would say it was true. When he did speak, she could tell he chose his words carefully. “If Corey’s bounty were my only concern, I would have let Langston have him. The price on Corey isn’t worth the trouble I’m in.”
“Then why didn’t you turn him over to Langston?”
His gaze didn’t falter from the entrancing dance of the fire. “I have my reasons.”
“I’d like to know what kind of reasons would make you charge a man with a gun, unarmed, not to mention undressed.”
“My facing down Langston might have looked pretty stupid, but I know the man.” He turned to Lorelei and looked directly into her eyes. “Don’t ever lift another finger in my defense. I know what I’m doing.”
“I can’t promise you that.”
“But you want the world from me. You want me to tell you your brother’s going to go free, when he’s gotten himself into more trouble in his short life than it takes other men a lifetime to achieve.”
“I just want your word you won’t turn him in. That you’ll do what you can to clear his name.”
Braddock removed his arm from her shoulders. “Clear his name how? He’s guilty.”
Lorelei fought the desperate urge to draw him back against her. “He says he’s innocent.”
Braddock stood. “I’m not going to argue with you about this, Lorelei. If you can’t see what’s right in front of you, I’m not going to try to convince you.”
She stood also, grabbing his arm when he tried to turn away. “This isn’t only about Corey.”
“Nothing’s changed. I can’t make you happy. I don’t have it in me.”
“I’m not asking you to make me happy.”
“Then what are you asking?”
She sighed, wanting to ask him to make love to her again, to tell her he couldn’t walk away from what they shared, but she kept her desires to herself. And not only out of obligation to Corey. Fear held her silent with a more powerful grip. She’d been walked away from before.
“I want what I’ve always wanted. I want you to try to help us clear Corey’s name. He didn’t kill anyone. And if he helps you find this Mulcahy and get the gold back, that should count for something.”
He stared at her a long moment, and she imagined he could read her tr
ue thoughts.
“If Corey leads me to the gold, I guess it would count for something. But I can’t promise you it will keep him out of jail.”
“He’ll help you. I’ll make sure of that.”
He brushed his thumb across her mouth. “That’s all you want? To keep Corey safe?”
“That’s already more than I have a right to ask you for.”
“Jesus Christ, Lorelei,” he exploded. “You have a right to a lot more than that. You deserve a husband who’ll take care of you. You shouldn’t be saddled with your rotten brother…or a bastard like me.”
She touched his cheek. “Meeting you is the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”
He grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face. “Then you’re worse off than I thought.”
She tried to jerk her hand away.
He held her, but gentled his grip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t say that to hurt you, but to warn you. I can’t promise you anything, not even that I can keep your brother from hanging. I have no right to, but I want to make love to you again. And I don’t have enough conscience to stop myself if you give me half a chance.”
She rose on her tiptoes to touch his lips to hers. She wanted him, too. Any way she could have him.
“I told you to stay away from her, Braddock.”
At the sound of Corey’s voice, Lorelei came down hard on the balls of her feet. Braddock didn’t budge a muscle. “And you know what I told you, kid.”
Corey braced himself with his feet apart, looking like he itched for a fight.
Braddock lowered his head, and Lorelei feared he was going to kiss her just to provoke her brother. She turned her head to avoid his mouth.
“I’ll do what I can for him, but only because of you. And I’ll try to keep my hands off you. But if you want me, all you have to do is come to me. Whenever, wherever,” he whispered next to her ear.
He straightened, then cut a bruising glance to Corey. Corey lowered his gaze and relaxed his stance. Apparently satisfied, Braddock turned his back on them. He picked up the rifle resting against his saddle.
“Get some sleep. I’m going to look around and see if we were followed.”
As soon as Braddock melted into the darkness, Corey rushed to Lorelei’s side. “We’ve got to get away from him.”
She raised her hand and turned her face away from him. For the first time in her life she shut out her brother’s plea. “I’m too tired to think about it tonight. You heard him. Let’s get some sleep.”
***
Lorelei thrashed, trying to escape from a disturbing dream. She was back home in her old house, the one where they had lived before her father lost everything. But she wasn’t happy because she knew what could happen, what would happen, without knowing how or what. The smooth plaster walls of her home were slowly crumbling. She would no sooner patch one hole using mud, grass, and her favorite dresses, covering it all with whitewash, then the other walls would start to fall apart. Corey played cards with his horse in the living room. And even in the dream she knew everyone else was gone. She knew it with every part of herself, and every part of herself ached.
She blinked hard, trying to shake the effects of the dream. But its awful clarity left her with a sticky residue of pain. She opened her eyes wide, desperate for wakefulness. The open sky instantly brought her back to the present. Thousands upon thousands of stars stretched out into the velvet darkness. The vastness threatened to swallow her.
She propped herself on her elbows and searched for Christopher.
He sat on the other side of the fire, wide awake, a tin cup in his hand. His steady gaze centered on her, as if he’d been watching her for hours.
She sat up and brushed her tangled hair away from her face. “Can’t you sleep?”
“You’re sleeping in my bedroll.”
She touched the folds of the thick flannel, forgetting that it had been his. How had she come to think of it as hers so easily? “Sorry.” She eased out of the cocoon of blankets.
“Stay. I want you to use it.” He took a sip from the cup he held, then studied its contents.
She glanced at Corey, who slept a few feet away. They hadn’t gone to bed angry with each other since before their mother took sick. There was no room for anger when there was so much sorrow.
She turned back to Christopher. His gaze had settled on her again but he pulled it away when their eyes met. Lorelei stood and stretched. She’d slept fully dressed but he acted as though he had caught her in her underclothes. Which was silly, because they had gone way past that. Then she remembered what he had told her. If she wanted him, all she had to do was come to him. His eyes were hooded and she wondered if he was thinking of it too. Maybe he regretted making himself so available to her. Maybe he had thought about his pledge and realized Lorelei was too much to take on, even as a lover.
She sauntered toward him, only slightly surprised by her boldness. She felt free somehow. As if she were leaving behind everything she had ever known to be true. She realized she had nothing else to count on besides him, nothing else to believe in.
Last night had been different. Things had just happened between them without her having to make a conscious choice. Then she still had some of her illusions about her relationship with Christopher to sustain her. She could pretend there was a chance they could build a life together.
Tonight they were all fugitives. Nothing was certain. Not even that Christopher would help Corey.
For the first time in a long time, she was going to ask for what she wanted. She wanted to give herself to Christopher for no other reason than to be held in his arms.
Her courage faltered slightly when she reached him. He openly stared, his indifference gone. She sank next to him and avoided his bold gaze. He hadn’t changed his mind about wanting her. That was obvious. Nor was he smiling. His jaw was tight, held with an intensity that reminded her of the man who had first stalked up to the adobe’s door, his pistols drawn. This was the side of him she feared slightly.
She hugged her knees to her chest. Something in her wouldn’t let her turn back, though the urge to slink back to her warm blankets tempted her.
“I had a bad dream.”
His gaze returned to the fire. “What about?”
“I dreamed my world was falling apart, crumbling all around me.”
“It is.”
“I know.” She touched his shoulder with the flat of her palm, letting it follow the contour of his arm. He was tense despite the way he leisurely stretched a leg out in front of him.
“I want…” She began but faltered, unable to say the words.
He turned to look at her. His hazel eyes burned light green with some inner struggle, but his jaw remained tight. He wasn’t going to say it for her.
“You,” she finished, her voice smoky and seductive. The word rubbed against her own skin like soft fabric after a warm bath.
He returned his gaze to the fire and tightened his grip on the tin cup. “Why?”
She studied his profile, unsure of what she was supposed to say. Braddock seemed coiled too tightly. Even she didn’t know why she wanted to ignore propriety and give her body to him. The simple pleasure of being held seemed too shallow of a reason to turn against common sense. But the desire to feel his skin pressed against hers was stronger than anything she had experienced before. To be close to him, even for an hour, seemed worth whatever consequences might follow.
“I want you because you make me feel good.”
He glanced at her sharply. Something in him had started to unwind. His breathing quickened.
“I want to make you feel better than you ever felt before.”
He stood and offered her his hand. She placed her palm against his, and he brought her to her feet. Without a word he led her away from the fire, away from Corey. He paused to scoop up the discarded bedroll, then guided her behind the rocks.
In a nook where soft sand had been piled by desert winds, he spread the blankets. He
turned to face her while pulling his shirt from his pants. As he freed the buttons, she started to do the same to her blouse.
He stilled her movements by gently touching her wrist. “I can’t offer you anything but this. You know that.”
“Yes.”
He moved his hands and let her finish her task. His fascination with her progress urged her to slow the process. Capturing his attention so fully was a pleasure in itself. His stare alone tightened her body, sending a rush of warmth to her breasts and belly.
“I want you to feel the same pleasure I do. Even if it takes all night,” he said without taking his gaze from her hands as they worked to release the buttons of her blouse.
She peeled the cotton from her shoulders. “I do.”
He grinned. “No, you don’t. But you will.”
He pulled her toward him as if he couldn’t resist touching the skin she revealed. While he smoothed his hands down her back, he kissed her. In two quick motions he managed to relieve her of her outer garments and her underskirts.
His kisses drifted to her shoulder while he reached underneath her chemise to cup her bare bottom. “You’re going to have to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t.”
The sensation of his rough hands gripping her so intimately forced a gasp of pleasure.
“That feels good.”
When he pressed her more fully against him, the buckle of his gun belt dug into her stomach.
She braced her hands against his chest. “That doesn’t. Aren’t you going to take off your guns?”
He tensed and peeled her away from him.
She blinked, not believing what she saw in his expression—suspicion.
“What are you thinking?” She was more hurt than angry, which she wished weren’t the case.
He unbuckled his belt. “I don’t want a repeat of this morning. If I have to get caught with my pants down again, I don’t want it to be without a gun.”
