Taking a knife from her saddlebag, Lacey left the horses ground-reined out of sight and crept toward Matt. Hardly daring to breathe, she dropped to her hands and knees, inching closer and closer to the sleeping village, every nerve in her body stretched taut, her eyes and ears straining for any sound that would indicate she was no longer alone.
Matt was on the brink of sleep when he heard someone whisper his name. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Lacey creeping up behind him. His first emotion was one of relief. Thank God, help was on the way! And then he grew angry. Stupid girl! What the hell did she think she was doing, prowling around an Apache camp in the dead of night. Didn’t she realize the danger she was in?
“Lacey, get out of here,” he hissed.
Wordlessly, she shook her head and began sawing through the rope binding Matt’s wrists. The knife was sharp and quickly sliced through the rawhide, freeing Matt’s hands. Keeping one eye on the camp, Matt hurriedly untied his feet and removed the rope from his neck.
He was about to grab Lacey by the hand and make a run for it when a low growl sounded behind him. Turning, he saw a large yellow hound staring at him, lips curled back to reveal sharp white teeth.
“Don’t move,” Matt warned Lacey as the dog growled again. “If he starts barking, he’ll rouse the whole damn camp.”
Lacey nodded, her eyes fixed on the dog. Seconds passed like hours. They’ll find us here in the morning, she thought bleakly, unmoving as statues.
“Lacey,” Matt whispered. “Pass me the knife.”
She was too frightened to ask questions. Moving as slowly as she could, she slipped the knife to Matt. She was unprepared for what happened next. Without warning, Matt lunged forward, his left arm in front of his face, the knife in his right hand. His sudden movement startled the dog, who let out a low growl and attacked, his jaws closing over Matt’s arm. Matt was ready, and when the dog attacked, he drove the knife into the animal’s throat, killing it instantly, soundlessly.
Jerking the blade free, Matt grabbed Lacey’s arm and ran into the darkness beyond the camp, gritting his teeth against the pain in his arm.
“This way,” Lacey whispered urgently, and led him to where the horses were waiting.
In seconds they were riding away from the village, slowly at first lest their hoofbeats be heard, and then at a gallop.
They rode all night, wanting to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the Apache.
At first light, Matt reined his lathered gelding to a halt. Lacey drew rein beside him, her eyes growing wide as she saw the dried blood caked around his nose and mouth.
“Matt, what happened?”
“Apache hospitality,” he answered ruefully. “Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Maybe not, but that dog bite looks bad. Let me clean it for you.”
“I’ll take care of it. You look beat.”
Lacey nodded, too tired to reply. He was alive, and that was all that mattered. All the tenseness, all the worry of the last few hours drained out of her like water through a sieve, and she suddenly went limp, practically falling out of the saddle.
Jumping to the ground, Matt caught her before she collapsed.
“You little fool,” he scolded. “Didn’t I tell you to hightail it outta there if I didn’t come back? You might have been killed.”
“Yell at me tomorrow, Matt,” Lacey mumbled. “I’m too tired to argue with you right now.”
Matt stared at Lacey in disbelief as her eyelids fluttered down. She was actually asleep! Muttering an oath, he held her in his arms, unable to believe that she had risked her own life just to save his. Then, with a sigh, he untied her bedroll from behind her saddle, spread it on the ground as best he could with one hand, and placed Lacey on the blanket.
Feeling tender and protective, he covered her and then, too tired to spread his own blankets, stretched out on the ground beside her and fell asleep.
Lacey tried to turn over, then frowned. There was a heavy weight across her chest, and another across her legs. Turning her head, she gave a little gasp of alarm when she saw Matt lying beside her. One of his arms was flung across her breasts, one of his legs was resting over hers. She relaxed when she saw that he was sound asleep.
He looked very handsome, lying there peacefully beside her. Even with one eye black and swollen, and his jaw covered with bristles, he was beautiful. His nose was slightly crooked, as if it had once been broken. She had never noticed that before, she mused absently. His mouth was full and wide, and she had a sudden impulse to run her fingers over his lower lip. The mere idea made her warm all over. Would he awaken if she dared?
She was trying to summon the courage when she realized that Matt was awake and watching her. Embarrassed, she pushed his arm off her breast and sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest even though she was fully clothed.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I was too tired to spread my bedroll,” Matt explained. And then he grinned roguishly. “Besides, since you were willing to risk your life to save mine, I didn’t think you’d mind if I shared your bed.”
“Well, you thought wrong!” Lacey exclaimed. “I…I only saved your life because I…because I was afraid to be out here alone.”
“Another hope crushed,” Matt lamented.
“Did you see my father? Was he there?”
“I didn’t see him, Lacey. I think he must be with that other bunch.”
“Oh.” Her disappointment showed in her eyes. She had been so certain they would find her father. She had wanted it so bad. Now they had to backtrack and hope that Matt could still pick up the trail of the Indians who had gone toward New Mexico Territory.
“I’m sorry, Lacey,” Matt said tenderly.
She nodded, too close to tears to speak.
“How about something to eat,” Matt suggested, “and then we’ll see if we can pick up that other trail.”
“All right,” Lacey said, “but first I’m going to take a look at your arm.”
Matt didn’t object, and Lacey quickly heated some water and gently washed Matt’s arm. The dog bite wasn’t deep and there was no sign of infection, but she rinsed it thoroughly.
Matt washed the dried blood from his face with the leftover water, grunting as the movement jarred his injured rib.
“What’s wrong?” Lacey asked.
“I think one of my ribs is cracked. You got anything I can wrap it with?”
Lacey nodded. Going to her saddlebag, she pulled out her petticoat and ripped several strips from the hem. At Matt’s direction, she wrapped the material tightly around his middle.
“Thanks,” he said, smiling at her. “That feels better.”
Lacey was subdued as they rode back the way they had come. The chances of picking up a cold trail were slim, even for a tracker as experienced as Matt appeared to be. She wondered if her father was still alive and if so, was he being treated well, or was he being abused and tormented? She glanced at Matt. His face was swollen and discolored. Apache hospitality, he had said. Was her father being treated the same way? He was too old, too sick, to endure such cruelty for very long.
The plains spread out before them, seemingly flat and barren save for an occasional stand of timber and patches of gray-green scrub brush. The sky began to grow dark as clouds gathered, and within thirty minutes the sun had been blotted from sight by thick black clouds. A stiff wind began to blow, and Lacey shivered, wishing she had something warmer to wear than her cotton shirt. Matt was no better off. In the rush to leave town after the gunfight, they had neglected to buy warm clothing.
A few large drops of rain fell intermittently, and then the heavens opened, unleashing a downpour that soon had Lacey and Matt soaked to the skin.
Matt swore under his breath as his eyes searched the bleak landscape for shelter. He squinted into the distance. Was he imagining things, or was that a cabin up ahead? He reined his horse toward it, and felt a surge of relief when he saw that it
was indeed a building of some kind. As they drew nearer, he saw that it was a shack, poorly built and in need of repair but good enough to provide them with some degree of shelter from the raging storm.
He grimaced with pain as he dismounted. His left side was still sore, but nothing he couldn’t live with. Hell, it could have been a lot worse. Hitching his gelding to a rotted tree stump alongside the shack, he reached up to help Lacey dismount.
“Get inside,” Matt shouted. “I’ll unsaddle the horses.”
With a nod, Lacey ran to the front door, turned the knob, and gave it a shove. The door refused to open, and she gave it a hard push, then practically fell on her face as the door flew open.
The inside of the shack was dismal, gloomy, and cold. There was no furniture, only a rusted iron stove and a fireplace with a cracked hearth. But at least it was dry.
She was standing in the middle of the floor, shivering, when Matt came in carrying their saddles. He dropped their gear on the floor inside the door, removed his hat, and shook the water from the brim.
“Not much, is it?” he mused, glancing around the shack’s single room.
Lacey shrugged. It was better than riding in the rain.
“You’re cold,” Matt remarked. “Get out of those wet things and wrap up in a blanket.” He looked around the room, hoping to find something that would burn, but to no avail. Untying Lacey’s bedroll from behind the cantle of her saddle, he tossed her a blanket. “Get bundled up before you freeze to death.”
“Would you mind turning around, please?”
“Sure.” Matt turned toward the opposite wall, rubbing his arms with his hands while Lacey hastily undressed and wrapped up in the blanket. “My turn,” he said when he figured she was through, and began to strip off his wet shirt.
Lacey stared out the shack’s only window. Lightning slashed through the heavy black clouds, great jagged bolts of brilliant white light. The rain was very loud on the wooden roof, but not loud enough to blot out the sound of Matt undressing behind her. She had never seen a naked man before, and she did not want to see one now, but she could not help remembering the days she had tended Matt—the sight of his bare chest, the width of his shoulders, the muscles rippling in his arms when he moved. She sent a silent prayer to heaven, praying that the rain would not last long. Somehow she had felt less vulnerable when they had been outside. The shack, drab as it was, hinted at intimacy, and while she didn’t know much about men, she knew that Matt found her desirable. If he decided to attack her, she would be at his mercy. He was too big, too strong, for her to resist.
“Come and sit down,” Matt called, and Lacey slowly turned around to see him sitting on his saddle blanket before the cold hearth. He patted the floor beside him. “Come on, sit down. Might as well be comfortable.”
Lacey nodded uncertainly. The blanket Matt was sitting on offered little padding, and as she sat down beside him, she could feel the cold floor beneath her. But she was more aware of Matt at her side. Though they were not quite touching, she could almost feel the heat of his body. If only they were married. At least then she could curl up in his arms and get warm. Just contemplating such a thing provided a few moments of warmth as she imagined what it would be like to be Matt’s wife, to lay beside him in the night. An embarrassed flush warmed her from head to foot at the mere idea. She hardly knew the man. Certainly he was not the type of person she would want to marry. He was a criminal, after all, a man accused of murder. But she was so cold…
Matt slid a sidelong glance at Lacey. She was shivering uncontrollably, and he wondered if he dared put his arm around her. Bundling would make them both warmer, but he wasn’t sure Lacey would approve.
A gust of chill wind shook the cabin walls, and Matt shivered some himself as a draft of icy air swept in around them.
“Lacey, we’d both be warmer if we sat closer together,” Matt suggested, trying to make his voice even and businesslike. “What do you say?”
She was too cold to argue. A quick nod and Matt was pressed against her, his arm around her shoulder. Lacey was instantly warmer, but it had nothing to do with Matt’s body heat. Indeed, the sudden warmth came from within herself as she realized that only two pitifully thin blankets separated her bare flesh from his. It was a shockingly provocative thought, and she was suddenly glad that the shack’s dim interior hid the crimson flush spreading across her cheeks.
The minutes crept by, and Lacey’s eyelids began to grow heavy. The steady patter of the rain on the roof, the gathering darkness, the warmth that now engulfed her all combined to lull her gently to sleep.
Matt’s arm tightened around Lacey as her head lolled forward and her body relaxed. Poor kid, he thought. She’d been through a lot in the last few days. Gently he lowered her to the floor, careful to keep the blanket wrapped snugly around her though he was sorely tempted to peek through the folds and see if her body could possibly be as beautiful as he imagined.
Drawing his own blanket tighter, he stretched out beside Lacey, his body pressed close to hers, the saddle blanket covering them both.
Outside, the rain fell and the wind blew, but inside the dismal little shack, all was peaceful and still.
Chapter Five
Lacey woke slowly, roused by the sound of the rain falling on the roof, and by a movement next to her.
Opening her eyes, she was suddenly jolted wide awake by the sight of Matt Drago lying close beside her. Sometime during the night they had rolled out of their separate blankets and were now lying side by side beneath their combined covers, as cozy as two people could be.
She stared at the black head nestled comfortably on her shoulder, then let her gaze drift to the long brown arm curled around her waist. For a moment, she remained completely still, hardly daring to breathe for fear he might awaken and find them in such a compromising position.
As her initial shock at finding herself lying in Matt’s arms passed, another reality struck home. Not only was Matt stark naked under the covers, but so was she!
All Lacey’s senses sprang to life, and she was suddenly, keenly, aware of the coarse hair on Matt’s legs, the day’s growth of beard on his strong, square jaw, the smell of leather and sweat and maleness, the fact that the length of her body was in direct contact with his from shoulder to ankle.
What was she going to do now, she thought frantically. Would he awaken if she moved? She would be mortified if he woke up. What if he thought she had purposefully slept so close to him? What if he woke up and saw her naked? Oh, she would die of shame.
Matt Drago didn’t move. He knew Lacey was awake, knew she must be suffering miserably to find herself lying so close to him. She was such an innocent, so shy and modest. Personally, he found lying beside her most enjoyable, though he knew Lacey must be horrified. But, Lord, she felt good lying there beside him, her skin smooth and warm against his own, her hair soft and silky where it brushed his cheek. He felt the stirrings of desire begin to make themselves known and he thought, wryly, that if Lacey didn’t roll out of those blankets pretty damn quick, she would know without a doubt that he was awake. Awake and thinking about something besides breakfast.
Drawing a deep breath, Lacey took hold of the top blanket and quickly rolled away from Matt, taking the blanket with her. Jumping to her feet, she wrapped the blanket around her, tucking the ends between her breasts before sending a quick glance over her shoulder. She had expected to find Matt grinning at her, but he appeared to be sleeping soundly. For a moment Lacey stared at him, wondering if he was all right. On the trail the slightest movement or sound had awakened him in an instant. With a slight shrug of her shoulders, she began to pull on her clothes, shivering as she pulled on the cold cotton jeans and shirt—hurrying because she did not want him to awake and find her in a state of undress.
Matt watched Lacey through narrowed eyes. Her back was smooth and unblemished, her legs long and shapely, her bottom nicely rounded. It was all he could do to keep from reaching out and touching her, and he cursed under
his breath as he closed his eyes. She was even more beautiful than he had imagined, he mused glumly, and he had imagined quite a bit.
He stretched and yawned hugely as Lacey reached for her boots.
“Good morning,” Lacey said, somewhat breathlessly.
“Morning. Still raining, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Did you sleep well?” Matt asked.
Lacey slanted a probing look in his direction. Was there a hint of laughter in his voice, or was she imagining things? “Yes, thank you. Are you hungry? There’s some jerky left. And an apple.”
“Fine,” Matt said, though what he really wanted was a cup of coffee. Sitting up, he stretched again.
Lacey quickly averted her eyes as the blanket fell down around Matt’s hips, exposing his heavily muscled torso, long sinewy arms, and broad shoulders. Rummaging through one of the packs, she tried not to remember the thick mat of black hair that covered his chest, or the way it tapered to a thin line before disappearing below the concealing folds of the blanket.
“Would you mind throwing me my pants?” Matt asked.
Lacey picked up his jeans as though they might bite her. Not meeting his eyes, she tossed the pants in Matt’s general direction, then quickly turned around, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment at the wayward turn of her thoughts.
Chewing on her lower lip, she tried to concentrate on the apple she was slicing. She could feel Matt’s eyes on her back. Knowing he was watching her made her clumsy, and she gave a little cry of pain as the knife’s sharp blade sliced into her finger.
“What is it?” Matt asked.
“Nothing. I cut myself.”
“Let me have a look,” Matt said, coming to stand beside her.
Lacey held out her hand, and felt her stomach churn at the sight of the blood oozing from her finger.
“Hey, that’s a bad cut,” Matt exclaimed. Taking a bandana from his hip pocket, he wrapped it around Lacey’s finger, then held the cloth in place with his thumb and forefinger. “Are you all right?” he asked. “You look a little pale.”
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