Captive Bride

by Sandi Hampton

  “No need to be scared. I said I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

  “So you did, but can I believe you?” She shot him an accusing look, then sank to her knees and slowly pulled the pins from her hair. The wet tresses sent rivulets of cold water running down her back and shivers chased along her spine. She squeezed more water from her hair, then combed it with her fingers. She stretched out on the bedroll and pulled the second blanket over her. Her eyelids seemed to close of their own accord, and she drifted toward the dark realm of sleep. Even though she didn’t expect him to answer another question, she still asked. “So, tell me, amigo, do you have a name?”

  After a long pause, he answered. “Yeah. Davy.”

  “Hmmm, Davy. So, Davy, why did you pick my wedding day to kidnap me?” Sleep crowded in around her, and she immersed herself in its welcoming arms.

  ****

  Davy sipped his coffee. Why had he kidnapped her on her wedding day? He’d had plenty of other opportunities, safer opportunities. When he’d first told Billy and the others of his plan, they hadn’t believed him. Once they were convinced, they said he was loco, made mad by grief and revenge.

  Maybe he was.

  Still, that didn’t answer his question. Why had he kidnapped Abby O’Sullivan on her wedding day? If he were honest with himself, the truth was clear to see. He didn’t want her to marry that slick lawyer, he’d wanted to hurt Sam O’Sullivan, and he’d wanted the whole town to know he’d have his revenge.

  He didn’t want to hurt her, would never hurt her, or let anyone else hurt her. He glanced down at her sleeping form. Dark hair curled around her pale face. The blanket had slipped, and bare shoulders peeked out from under the coarse gray cloth. They’d been burned by the sun, yet still looked as soft as satin. The swell of her breasts sent his pulse racing like a wild mustang. His gaze followed the length of her, down the gentle curve of her hip and over her long slim legs. He licked his suddenly dry lips. When she’d taken her hair down and murmured his name, her voice all soft and husky, it’d taken all his self-control not to pull her into his arms and ravage her rosy lips.

  A couple of times he’d caught something...in her blue eyes, something that made him believe she wasn’t completely immune to him. He laughed at himself. Maybe he was seeing what he wanted to see and not what was really there.

  With a muttered curse, he rose to his feet and walked to the mouth of the cave. The rain had stopped, and the ground had greedily soaked up all the moisture. A full, golden moon rose above the mountaintops. A hunter’s moon, his Comanche grandmother called it.

  And he was the hunted.

  They were out there—hunting him. He could feel their presence, as he felt the presence of his ancestors who’d lived here so long ago. His grandmother had always said he could have been a shaman had he been raised among her people.

  He scanned the land below, searching for any pinprick of light or the glow of a campfire that would tell him where they were. He needed to go to higher ground for a better look. A glance over his shoulder showed him Abby was still asleep. Ten minutes later, he perched on a ledge high above the cave. The land stretched out below, vast and wild.

  Still no sign of the hunters.

  As he sat there, his thoughts turned to the reason he was here. Sam O’Sullivan had stolen his father’s ranch—and killed his father. They’d said his father had played poker at the saloon and won a lot of money. The sheriff thought someone had followed him, stole his money and then killed him. So how had the deed to the Larson ranch turned up in O’Sullivan’s possession? And how had his slimy lawyer Winston made it all legal-like?

  His mother had returned to her people. Without John Larson by her side, Dawn Little Sky had not been able to face the hostile townspeople or fight the legal battle to get her ranch back. If he had no other choice, Davy knew he could go to his Comanche family in the Llano Estacado. Very few whites ventured into the high plains.

  The faint sound of hoofbeats drifted upward. He rose to his feet and focused in on the sound. One horse—coming slowly. Several long strides took him back to the cave. He grabbed his rifle and picked his way silently down the slope. As the horse drew nearer, he hid behind a clump of rocks, put his rifle to his shoulder and waited.

  “Davy, you there?”

  He recognized the voice and stepped out from behind the boulders. “Yeah, I’m here. You alone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Anybody follow you?”

  “Don’t think so. I kept doubling back.”

  As his friend materialized out of the darkness, Davy stepped forward and clasped his shoulder. “Good to see you, Billy. I’ve got coffee. You want some?”

  “Yeah. Left my damned coat in town. I’m chilled to the bone.”

  “You can warm up at the fire.”

  “Good. Where’s the girl?”

  Davy jerked his head toward the cave. “She’s asleep up there.”

  “Did she recognize you?”

  Davy shook his head. “Nope. Did you bring the clothes?”

  “Yeah. My sister’s pants should fit her.”

  “Good. Did you go into town?”

  “Yeah. You got the whole country in an uproar, Davy boy. O’Sullivan’s got about 50 hands out looking for you, Silver Feather the lead tracker of course. The sheriff is getting a posse together. O’Sullivan put a price on your head—”

  “He did? How much?”

  “$10,000, dead or alive.”

  Davy whistled under his breath. “$10,000, huh? That’s quite a bounty.”

  “Yeah, and the governor is even talking about bringing in the Rangers. Davy, this is more than we bargained for. Why don’t you let the girl go and take off and go to your mother’s people? You’d be safe there. Even the Texas Rangers don’t venture very often into the Llano Estacado.”

  “Are you and the others getting cold feet?”

  “No, man, we’re with you all the way. It’s just that—”

  “What?”

  “You’re likely to get yourself killed, that’s what. Is revenge worth your life?”

  Davy nodded. “Yeah. I know you don’t understand, but it’s a matter of honor.”

  “It’s a matter of suicide, you mean.”

  Davy grinned at his friend. “You’re probably right.”

  “Besides, how you gonna prove O’Sullivan killed your old man? There were no witnesses. Ain’t nobody come forward. Nobody seen nothing.”

  “I know, but if O’Sullivan wants to see his daughter again, he’ll confess and tell me the truth. Think about it, Billy, my father didn’t carry the deed to his ranch around with him. Yet O’Sullivan turns up with the deed. So how did he get it?”

  “I don’t know, amigo.”

  “I need to talk to my mother to find out where Pa kept the deed, and if anybody came to the ranch that night. Besides, even if O’Sullivan didn’t kill my father, I’ll bet he knows who did.” He fisted his hands and rubbed them on his pants. “I’ll make him talk. I promised my mother, and I always keep my promises.”

  “All right. Whatever I can do to help, you know I will. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t want you or the others to get in trouble. So if they get close to you, back off.”

  “No, you’re my friend, and I ain’t gonna run off.”

  Davy grinned. “Thanks, amigo. Did you find out who was in that poker game?”

  “Yeah. O’Sullivan, Winston, Abe Feinstein, Bud Jones, and the sheriff.”

  “The sheriff? He didn’t say anything about that when I went to see him. Said I should get out of town and leave O’Sullivan alone. Said it was most likely some drifter who killed my father.”

  Billy let out a low whistle. “And I suppose that drifter stole your father’s deed and sold the ranch to O’Sullivan?” He snorted derisively. “That’s a bit far-fetched.”

  “That’s what I told him, only not in those words.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “J
ust lay low for now. I think I’ll be heading into the Llano to see my mother.”

  “O’Sullivan will follow you.”

  “Good. Then he’ll be on my home ground. Let’s get that coffee.”

  “All right. Then I’d best head back to town.”

  Chapter Three

  As the first pale rays of dawn crept into the cave, Abby shoved herself up on her elbows. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Then she remembered—the cave, the kidnapping, the long hard ride. She tried to sit up, but her muscles protested. A moan escaped her lips. She hadn’t slept on the cold ground for many years. Her lips tugged down into a grimace. With a tired sigh, she lifted her arms over her head. The blanket slipped, and she grabbed for it. After folding it tightly around her chest, she glanced around the cave.

  He was stretched out about ten feet away, his hat pulled low over his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. His rifle lay by his side. An idea formed in her mind. A dangerous idea. If she could get the rifle, she could turn the tables, capture him, take him back to town and turn him over to the sheriff. She rose slowly, gathered up the blanket, then inched her way toward him, stepping over the pebbles. As she knelt beside him, she reached for the rifle.

  His hand snaked out and grabbed her arm. He jerked her down on top of him. “Just what do you think you’re doing, Miss O’Sullivan?”

  “I wasn’t doing anything. Let me go.” She struggled, but his arms were like iron bands holding her tightly against the long hard length of him. She’d never been in such intimate contact with a man before. Her body betrayed her, settling against him like she belonged there. She twisted away from him, but her struggles only served to bring her in more intimate contact. Hot, diffusing warmth slid up her face and spread throughout her body. “Let me go. Please.”

  “I do believe you were trying to steal my rifle, Miss O’Sullivan, and perhaps...shoot me?”

  “No, No. I was just going outside to, you know, to relieve myself.”

  “I don’t believe you.” He entwined his hands in her hair, pulled her face down to his and kissed her. At first his mouth was possessive, demanding and taking, almost angry. Then it softened, became more tender, more caressing and...searching? His tongue probed her lips, and she clamped her lips together.

  “Open your mouth to me, Abby. I want to kiss you.”

  “No, no, leave me alone.”

  His lips became gentle, caressing. His words lit a fire in her belly, and she parted her lips. Sweet sensual sensations exploded inside her, sending hot flashes of desire running amok.

  “Abby, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

  “Huh? What do you mean? I don’t even know you.”

  His hand moved to her breast, and he pulled the blanket down and kneaded the taut tip. Desire spiraled out of control inside her. She gasped, sucking in a deep breath of air. No man had ever touched her like this before—not even Philip.

  Philip!

  The thought of her husband-to-be brought her to her senses. She shoved his hand away. “Stop it. Let me go. What the hell am I doing?”

  To her surprise, he released her. She jumped to her feet and ran to the far side of the cave. All the time, she cursed herself. His kiss had sent reason flying away. Philip’s kiss and touch had never affected her that way. She’d always wished his kisses were more exciting. When Davy had touched her breast, she’d almost fainted with want and need.

  She glanced over her shoulder. He’d risen and now hunkered by last night’s fire. He acted as if nothing had happened. Damn him! Her hands curled into fists. Well, she’d show him it had meant nothing to her either.

  Head held high, she marched past him without looking in his direction. She continued out of the cave and around the corner. He made no move to stop her. She found a niche in a jumble of rocks and took care of her personal needs. Afterwards, she climbed atop a boulder. Her first view of the area sent her spirits plummeting. While it was breathtaking scenery, it was completely alien to her.

  Two red rock spires towered above the desert floor, standing like silent sentinels in an empty land. The rugged bluffs caught the sunlight and cast a golden glow over the land. Even though it was early, heat rose in shimmering waves, reminding her of white smoke, the mist that rose from a river in the early morning. She glanced upward. No clouds marred the azure blue sky.

  Escape entered Abby’s mind, but she quickly dismissed the idea. She had no idea where she was. Worse than that, she had no horse, no food, no clothing, not even shoes. A resigned sigh slipped from her lips. She returned to the cave, her spirits flagging. As she joined him by the fire, she expected him to say something, but he remained silent, just handed her a cup of coffee. From beneath lowered eyelashes, she watched him, not knowing what she was looking for. Maybe just an acknowledgment that something had happened between them.

  He picked up a stack of clothes beside him and held them out to her.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Clothes.”

  “Well, I can see that.” She held up the shirt and pants, then scrunched her nose. “Where did you get them? Did you steal them?”

  “Does it matter?” At her shrug, he continued. “But no, I didn’t steal them. They look like they’ll fit you.”

  “I’m not wearing someone else’s clothes. They might be—”

  “They’re clean, I assure you. I know they’re not fancy clothes like you’re used to, but unless you want to wear that blanket for the next three or four days, you’ll put them on.” He stood and stared down at her. “Maybe you want some help getting dressed, Miss O’Sullivan?”

  Abby jumped to her feet and glared at him. “No, thank you. I can do it myself.” With as much dignity as she could muster, she marched to the back of the cave. Once out of sight, she dropped the blanket and donned the clothes. To her surprise, the black pants fit her like they’d been made for her. She shrugged into the white linen shirt, again wondering who the clothes belonged to. His girlfriend? His wife?

  Why did she even care?

  A headache drummed behind her temples, and she massaged the tender spots. Ever since this man had walked into her life, she’d acted like a fool. Well, no more. She scooped up the blanket, walked back to the fire and threw it at him. He brushed it aside and continued frying bacon.

  She sank to her knees. He picked up a pair of beautifully beaded moccasins and placed them in front of her. She scooped them up and stroked the soft leather. “Oh, how beautiful.” When she realized what she’d said, she laid them aside. “They’re nice, but I much prefer boots.”

  His dark eyebrows bunched together. “Maybe you’d prefer to go barefoot?”

  She firmed her lips in a thin line, then picked up the moccasins and slipped her feet into them. The soft leather caressed her feet. They too fit perfectly and could have come right out of her closet. She wriggled her toes. Again, she found herself wondering where, or who, they’d come from.

  “Hurry up and eat.”

  “What? Where are we going?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said as he handed the tin plate to her. “Just do like I say.”

  “Okay, okay, but why?” Then it hit her, and a smug smile touched her lips. She pointed her finger at him. “I know why.”

  “Okay, you tell me why.”

  “My father’s found us. Have you seen sign of him? You have, haven’t you?” She threw her plate down, then jumped to her feet and laughed. “They’re out there, aren’t they? I told you so, didn’t I?”

  She ran to the mouth of the cave and searched the vast landscape. Emptiness stared back at her, and the victory smile died on her lips. Her heart rose in her throat. Tears misted in her eyes, and for the first time since her capture, she gave vent to them. She sank to her knees and sobbed.

  Once the tears were spent, Abby leaned back against the stone wall and gathered her composure. How she hated this helpless feeling. She returned ten minutes later and sat opposite him. Her mind was made up. He was her
enemy, and she must treat him as such. She would forget the kiss and how it had made her feel, would forget her body’s fevered response to his touch, and would think of nothing but him rotting in jail. “Why do you hate my father? What has he ever done to you?”

  His body seemed to turn to stone, his eyes dark and unreadable. Not a muscle flinched, not a jerk of his hand, nothing. “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know you. I’ve never done anything to you.” She locked gazes with him. “So you must have a grudge against my father. That’s the only explanation I can think of. So what is it?”

  “Maybe it’s just the money. Did you think about that? Your pa will pay a lot to get you back.” He lifted the pan from the fire and set it aside.

  “Is the money worth your life?”

  Silence was his answer. He handed her a plate. She took it and gulped the food down. She grabbed the coffeepot, poured herself another cup of the hot, fortifying liquid and took a few sips.

  When he finished his cup, he stood and emptied the pot over the fire, then kicked dirt over the smoldering ashes. “Go wash the dishes and fill the canteens.”

  “What? Who do you think you are? No.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I won’t do it.”

  He grabbed her and jerked her up against him. “You’ll do as I say or else.”

  His threat turned her knees to jelly, but she refused to let him see her fear. “Or else what? If you kidnapped me for money, you have to take me home—alive.”

  “Alive can mean many things,” he said in a quiet voice. A deadly quiet voice.

  Abby swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. “All right, I’m going to do it, but you just wait, you’ll pay for this. I swear it.” Despite her resolve to be stoic and unfeeling, she cursed him all the way to the small pool of clear water under a protruding ledge. The water was cold, and Abby splashed some on her face.

  A feeling that she was being watched made her glance nervously around, but Davy was nowhere around. She lifted her gaze and saw the paintings on the wall. A shiver ran down her spine. The Indians who’d long ago inhabited this cave had left their mark. Unseeing eyes stared down at her. Mounted warriors with bows and arrows chased buffalo across a stone prairie.