Caden looked up the hill toward the campsite.
Well, Maddie had the husband she wanted now, just maybe not the one she was expecting.
* * *
CADEN LINGERED WITH the horses longer than he needed to, letting the peace of the day work on his anger. He hadn’t gotten too far with that when he sensed another presence. There was only one person who snapped his senses to attention without sending off warning tingles. Flower lifted her head and whickered, looking over her shoulder. He turned, knowing who he would find.
Maddie stood awkwardly, farther away than he was used to. “I don’t have any flint to start a fire.”
“I’ve got sulfurs.”
She rubbed her hands on her skirt. There was a dirt smudge on her sleeve and some small leaf particles clung to her bodice. Obviously, she’d collected wood.
“I couldn’t find any supplies to eat.”
“I have some hidden.”
She nodded. “I thought so.”
There was no vapidness about her expression, so she was here with him now.
“Why’d you do it, Maddie?”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Culbart said I had to.”
“He threatened you?” He’d kill the son of a bitch.
She shook her head. “No. He didn’t have to.” Her smile brightened, and that fast she was back in pretend. “Now I really am your Maddie.”
“Maddie mine.” He sighed. He still hadn’t figured out how that endearment had slipped into his speech, and now she’d turned it into a reality.
“Maddie, this marriage is not going to last.”
Her smile broadened. “Only until death do us part.”
“Maddie, look at me.”
She did, all smiles. He felt like the biggest heel as he laid out the truth along with sulfurs. As she took the small tin, he reiterated, “Maddie. This marriage isn’t going to stand.”
“Of course it is, silly,” she stated calmly, walking past him with the confidence that had been lacking before to grab Flower’s reins. “Till death do us part. That’s what the preacher said, and you can’t go against God.”
Flower followed her easily up the path; the bond between the two was strong. Behind him Jester snorted. He hadn’t gotten any further making friends with the little mare than Caden had gotten with Maddie.
“I know just how you feel,” Caden muttered.
Caden followed Maddie back to the campsite. Sure enough, she had sticks stacked in front of the fire pit. Signs of Maddie were all over the campsite. Everything was arranged, neatly aligned, nothing out of place. Maddie had a penchant about neatness. He liked that in her. Maybe because of the chaos of what her life was, maybe because of the chaos his life was—whatever. That quality in her resonated with him.
To the right, two bedrolls were set side by side. Like a red flag to a bull.
“Oh, hell, no.”
The only hope he had of getting out of this marriage was to not consummate it.
As fast as he was, Maddie still beat him to the bedroll, plunking herself down over both of them, spreading her hands over what her hips didn’t cover, and her hips covered a lot. The woman had a nice ass.
“Stop it,” she told him.
“We’re not sleeping together, Maddie.”
She set her chin. “This is our honeymoon.”
“This is a farce.”
That chin quivered then snapped up.
“You’re not going to ruin this for me.”
“Ruin what?”
“My wedding night.”
“Dammit, Maddie, we’re not having a wedding night. We got married because it was the only way to rescue you.”
“You could have come in guns blazing.”
“And gotten myself killed, yes, but that wouldn’t have been much of a rescue.”
“You didn’t fight the wedding.”
“I had a goddamn gun in my back.”
“Gentlemen don’t use bad words around ladies. Tia said so.”
She glared at him as if that was the end of it. The automatic retort that she wasn’t a lady stuck on his tongue. He unclenched his hands and squatted in front of Maddie, touching his finger to the curl by her cheek. Her lids flickered over her eyes and her lips trembled. Some of his anger melted.
“You here, Maddie mine?”
She nodded a nod that could have meant anything. He asked the question he’d wanted to ask first off.
“Did they hurt you, honey?”
She pulled away, cutting him a glare out of the corner of her eye as she smoothed a wrinkle from one of the bedrolls.
“Women like me can’t be hurt.”
Dammit to hell and back. Caden kept his drawl soft. “Anyone can be hurt.”
Especially someone as gentle as Maddie. She had no defenses, no ability to stand up for herself. She was as easy to squash as a bug, and he’d taken a swing at her. Maybe he ought to go back and let Culbart kick his ass.
“Nothing happened.”
He remembered the clearing, the story told in the disturbance in the ground, the button... Did he really need to make her relive that? He settled for “Let me ask you this, then.”
Another glance out of the corner of her eye, sunlight splashed across her freckles, making him realize how pale she was. For all her bravado, she was tired, she was scared and she was trapped, had been for most of her life.
“Did you ever tell Culbart you didn’t want to marry me?”
She shook her head.
It was the answer he expected. Caden pushed the loose curls away from her face so he could see her expression, but seeing only her profile. She looked so young with her head tipped like that, exposing the roundness of her cheek and the delicacy of her neck. “Why not?”
Maddie smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle, not looking at him, not pulling away, but so tense. “It would have been a lie.”
And Hell’s Eight didn’t lie. He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you, Maddie?”
* * *
MADDIE DIDN’T KNOW what he was going to do, but she knew what she wanted him to do. She wanted to tell him to hold her, to keep her, to cherish her, to look at her the way Ed looked at Tia, but the words stuck like mud on her tongue. She was a whore. Men didn’t cherish whores. They used them. They abused them, they discarded them, but they didn’t cherish them. Especially ones that forced them into marriage.
Oh, dear heavens, what had she done? It’d seemed the right thing at the time. She remembered thinking Caden was so alone. That he needed someone and no one would work harder than she to make him happy. She remembered talking about it, hearing Culbart agreeing. She shook her head. She didn’t remember more. Didn’t need to. Oh, Lord, what had she done while she’d been “hiding”?
Her breath rattled in her lungs then lodged in her throat. The little girl’s voice in her head screamed run. The woman she’d just started to become acquainted with said stay. Of the two, the child’s voice was louder. The gray of the bedroll filled her vision. So ugly when she wanted pretty. She started to picture her pond in her mind, letting the gray wool blend into the reflection of a storm cloud chasing over the water, the harshness of Caden’s breath becoming the rustle of the wind through the leaves...
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
The image wavered. The child cried louder. Out of the corner of her eye, Maddie looked at his fingers. Scars cut across the back of his knuckles. Old scars blending with new, the new abrasions from where he’d fought Culbart’s men. He’d come for her. She followed a scrape down the back of his hand to his wrists where muscle and tendon were clearly defined. Her husband. The one to whom she owed loyalty. The one who owed her. The one she’d betrayed. The woman in her reached out. Grabbed his hand. Clung. His start shot up her arm. His curse blistered her ears. The child quieted. Maddie took another breath as the image of the pond faded and once again she was staring at the gray bedroll. And her nails biting into Caden’s skin. She still didn’t know what to say. The only w
ords that came out were, “I’m sorry.”
His finger slipped under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. She hated when he did that. It made it so hard to pretend. “What the hell is going on in that head of yours?”
A question that didn’t expect an answer. The kind of question a man posed to an animal or an imbecile. She wished she dared push his hand away. Instead, she concentrated on relaxing her grip on his hand. It took a lot of concentration to accomplish the simple task. How did others do this so easily? Argue. Fight... Confront.
She had a choice. Retreat or go forward. There was nothing for her in going back. She forced a smile. It shook on her lips. “I was thinking it was a pretty night for a honeymoon.”
“We’re not married.”
They had to be. She couldn’t face a future without him in it. This was her life. She might have made a mess of it, but it could be salvaged. “We stood before the reverend and promised our lives to each other.”
It hurt way down deep that Caden didn’t see that moment with even a speck of the beauty she did, but when she recalled the day, she’d just fill happiness in. Coloring bad memories with something pretty was all right, Tia had said, as long as she didn’t forget what had really happened. And the reality was they were really married. “That makes us married.”
“That can be undone.”
Could it? “Hell’s Eight never breaks a promise.”
Caden grabbed up one of the bedrolls, yanking it out from under her hip, and stood. “There’s always a first time for everything.”
If Caden hadn’t stomped off while saying that, Maddie might have been worried. The man only ran when he had mixed feelings. It was a small thing to hold on to, but it was something. Feigning a confidence she didn’t feel, she called after him, “But you won’t.”
He made a sound that could have been a curse and then, “That promise was made under false pretenses.”
It took her a moment to figure out what that meant. She stood and brushed off her skirts. “You knew what you were doing.”
Caden always knew what he was doing. She liked that about him. The indecision that seemed to surround her like a cloud never touched him. He saw things with a black-and-white clarity that was brutally honest. And he saw her as a betrayer. She sighed. Inside, the child whined an explanation. She hushed it. Making the decision to claim her life meant she claimed responsibility for what she did in it.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he snapped before turning and heading back toward her. A broad-shouldered man with a purpose. Her heart leaped in her throat. His shadow crept over her as he got close. Her heart expanded, cutting off her air.
Digging her nails into her palms, she held her ground. “You can’t if I don’t let you.”
It felt good to draw so powerful a man up short. The thrill almost made up for the terror that took over when he pulled his hat down low with a deliberate tug and asked in a soft, dangerous drawl, “You’re threatening me?”
Her courage spilled like so much water off a cliff. Biting her lip, she stood completely still as he tipped her face up with a finger under her chin. Men always did that, thinking if she was looking at them she couldn’t make them go away. But she was better than they thought. Stronger.
“Yes.”
“You think you can back that threat?”
Be strong in a way that serves you.
Bella had given her advice, and remembering it now gave Maddie courage. She’d followed Caden to claim the future she wanted. Hiding from it now wouldn’t accomplish her goal. Besides. She was Hell’s Eight. Hell’s Eight never backed down.
“Yes, I can.” I hope.
His gaze narrowed. “How?”
She had no idea, but she lifted her chin farther, forcing herself to meet his gaze. His eyes were so bright with sun striking off them. This close she could see the gray was flecked with blue, and not just one shade but variations. No wonder the women sighed when he came about. His eyes were fascinating. The kind a woman could stare into forever, lured by the illusion that she could see his soul if she just looked long enough.
The thought was as seductive as the way his shirt fit across muscular shoulders. Caden was a handsome man, as rugged as the hills, as harshly beautiful as the plains. The stark cut of his cheekbones under his eyes just added to his appeal. Beautifully handsome, she corrected as she dropped her gaze to his mouth. In repose his lips were firm and well shaped, not girlie but not too thin in that way that made a woman think of a mean spirit. They were, she decided, just right. A firm stroke of his thumb across her chin and his sigh brought her back to the moment.
“If you’re going to piss me off, the least you can do is stay for the fight.”
She blinked. She had drifted off but not in ways he thought. It was a small personal victory. She added it to her mental hoard. “I’m sorry.”
His head titled to the side. A sunbeam cut a path beneath the brim of his hat. If she’d thought his eyes were stunning before, they were mesmerizing now. “No, you’re not.”
She actually wasn’t, and what a pleasant surprise that was. It seemed she’d been apologizing her whole life, starting with the fact that she’d been born. “I don’t like to fight.”
His thumb crept up until the tip just grazed the underside of her lower lip. The strangest of tingles spread out from that spot. Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes narrowed, and suddenly there was a different kind of tension between them. “Then, why are you picking one?”
This she could answer. “Because you’re breaking your promise to me.”
“I never break a promise.”
“You promised you wouldn’t leave before I got back.”
“Shit.” His thumb stopped moving, but the tingles continued. “So you tricked me into marriage to get revenge for a broken promise?”
She stepped back, breaking the contact. For a second she thought he was going to follow, but then his hand dropped to his side. “No, I didn’t, but I can’t let you break another promise to me.”
“How do you intend to stop me?”
“I don’t know.” She thought of Bella and how she faced down Sam when he was being unreasonable. She couldn’t put her hand on her hip with the same flair as Bella, but she could imitate her bravado. “Yet.”
That “yet” snapped his chin up. “I don’t like you like this.”
She didn’t imagine he did, but she did. “Well, get used to it.” She snatched up her bedroll and dragged it over to where his was, laying it out beside his again. “I’m not a child.”
His gaze dropped to her breasts. She was used to men looking at her breasts. It didn’t mean she had to like it. She put her hand to her bodice. “I meant inside.”
The expression on his face could only be described as surprised. She was not an ugly woman, and he needn’t act as if looking at her breasts was the most shocking of things.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She had no idea. She couldn’t seem to settle between wanting and running. “I think I’m getting stronger.”
“You always were strong.” He made that claim with a nonchalance that stunned her. With a motion of his hand, he indicated the bedrolls tossed on the ground. “Do you think sleeping with me is going to make you more a woman in my eyes?”
“Men don’t remember women they fornicate with.”
“Honey, there isn’t a man that would lie down with you and forget.”
He was completely wrong. So many had. “Then, the night should go well.”
“It’s not even dark yet.”
He was making excuses. “You don’t think I’m pretty enough.”
“You’re beautiful.”
Her heart did a little flutter. She sat on the bedroll with a plop. “Good.”
He reached down and pulled her to her feet. “But Ace might have his own opinion.”
Oh, good gravy. She’d forgotten about Ace.
“Unless you were intending on giving him a show?” Caden asked with a mocking ti
lt of his head.
The question hit her like a blow. He could be so cruel. She could feel the pull of her pond, the tranquil and cool water, smell the sweet breeze of the wildflowers around. It would be so easy to slip out from under the humiliation of the moment into that soft dream. She wouldn’t have to even close her eyes. Just let her mind flow... And so unfair.
“Maddie?” Someone shook her.
She blinked, reality coming back into focus. “Caden?”
“Who else?”
She shook her head to clear it. She’d slipped away. For how long? She licked her lips. “No one.”
His grip eased on her shoulders. She looked at his hands and then his face. “You were shaking me?”
She had such a hard time putting together the spaces in the time between her fancy and what was real.
“Yeah.” He let go of her arms slowly as if he was afraid she was going to bolt. Or fall.
She licked her lips again, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. For no reason, she remembered that tingle.
“You really do slip away, don’t you?”
What did he want her to say? More important, why did he want her to say it? “Sometimes.”
“Wonderful. Something to look forward to over the next forty years. I’m going to get the supplies.” He turned and stalked away.
Instead of following, she stood there and smiled.
Caden was thinking of a future.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FIVE HOURS LATER Caden was still at an impasse with Maddie. Dark had fallen, supper was cooked, edible because Caden had done the honors, and Maddie was singing softly, an Irish song that put a lilt in her voice that was only faintly there when she sang. Caden sat in front of the fire and gave it a poke with a stick. The night was warm, they didn’t really need it, but keeping it going was giving him something to do other than take potshots at Maddie. She drew him, angered him and just generally threw his orderly world into chaos, so why couldn’t he just walk away? Why the hell did he feel as if he owed her an apology?
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