“He was a fool.” Ignoring her distress, Sloan grabbed her wrist and, dragging her behind him, moved to where the string of yearlings were gathered against the far side of the boat.
His voice was guttural, rasping against her ear. “Untie these horses and hitch that other mare on with ‘em.”
Katherine stepped back, frantic to put space between them. His hand released her, and he snarled an oath at her reluctance. “Do as you’re told, lady, or I’ll shove you overboard and save myself the trouble of totin’ you along.”
Her eyes widened. A shudder swept through her slender frame and his grin was triumphant. “Thought that’d get you movin’. Can’t imagine you’d want to drown in that muddy water, would you now?”
Katherine refused the gibe, her hands working at the ropes holding her yearlings. “They’re tied,” she whispered.
“Now, get those reins in your hand and lead those two mares outa here.” The gun was unwavering as it pointed in her direction. “I’ll be right behind you, lady. If you holler fer that man of yers, I’ll put a bullet in him and shove you over the side.”
And he would. Deep in her heart of hearts, Katherine believed every threat he’d leveled in her direction. Grasping the reins of the black and her own chestnut mare, she walked slowly from the livestock area in the stern of the boat, heading with even steps toward the gangplank.
Wide enough to hold two horses, the gangplank stretched from the lower deck to the bank. She shuddered, swallowing hard as she considered the water flowing beneath her feet.
“Katherine. Where the hell you goin’ with those mares?” From the deck above, Roan’s shout was pure irritation, his voice harsh.
Her eyes sought him, blinking against the brilliant sunshine, and her mouth opened with words of warning to spew in his direction. From behind her came a snarl of impatience and the hard pressure of a gun against her spine.
“Shut yer mouth.” It was a warning growl and her lips pressed together obediently.
“Damn!” Roan’s single curse blistered the air and she closed her eyes at the anguish visible on his face. “Take the horses and get. Leave the woman.” His snarling words reached her ears with the force of a tempest.
Behind her, Sloan laughed, a triumphant sound, accompanied by the nudging of his gun as he urged her forward. “Too late, Devereaux,” he taunted. “You shoulda been payin’ attention to yer woman instead of jawin’ with the captain. Now you get to watch us ride off together.”
“Not likely,” Roan retorted. Frozen in place, he’d already decided using his own weapon was not an option. Katherine was too close to her captor. And then it became a moot point as Sloan shouted out an order.
“Throw yer gun down here, Devereaux.” His eyes gleamed with vicious intent as he watched the tall man on the deck above. “Either that or I shoot yer woman. What’ll it be?”
Slowly, Roan slid his revolver from the holster and dropped it to the deck below. His hands gripped the rail once more and he watched through narrowed eyes as Sloan nudged Katherine onto the gangplank.
“Get on that horse.” Sloan’s head nodded to Katherine as he pushed her toward her mare. With no saddle and with skirts hampering her agility, she floundered for a moment, one hand grasping the mane of the chestnut. “Damn, I’ll shove you overboard in a minute. Let that man of yours go after you.”
“No!” Katherine’s denial was frantic. The thought of being swallowed up by the murky water sent a chill of despair through her body.
“Can’t swim? Ain’t that a pity!” His mockery brought her around, and a glare of anger flashed from the depths of her eyes as she faced him.
“I need to cross the gangplank and get on with the help of a bale or crate or something. If you push me over the side to drown, you’ll have Roan Devereaux on your neck so fast you’ll never know what hit you.”
His eyes squinted at her knowingly. “You may be right, lady. Get movin’ then.” Walking between the mares, they crossed the wooden bridge, the four horses strung out behind them. Above, Roan watched, his gaze unwavering as he clenched his teeth, waiting his chance. The gun was firm against Katherine’s back and he couldn’t risk any movement that might spur the outlaw into action.
Passengers had halted all around him. Several men on the dock were enthralled by the drama they’d stumbled upon, none of them eager to interfere. It didn’t pay to stick your nose in another man’s business along the waterfront.
The yearlings milled about, excited by the commotion, unused to the scent of the stranger in their midst. Roan’s gaze focused on the blue dress and the woman within its folds. Surrounded by horses—she looked small, fragile almost—and his heart thumped against his chest as he considered the odds of her situation. His hands tightened on the rail, his body tensing as he gauged the distance to the deck below.
Sloan grabbed at the reins in Katherine’s hand. “I reckon you’ll be more good to me in the river than on that horse, now that I think about it,” he growled against her ear. His fingers were tight about her arm as he twisted it with cruel strength, shoving her to the edge of the bank.
Roan moved with instinctive grace. He cleared the rail, landing on the balls of his feet on the lower deck, one hand reaching for the knife inside his boot. As Katherine hit the water, the knife left his hand.
Sloan felt the blade pierce his back. Clutching at her mane, he dragged himself atop the black mare. She danced sideways, snorting and rearing at the unexpected weight. Sprawled across her back, Sloan struggled against the pain, wheezing to catch a breath, frantic to seat himself upright. The mare’s shrill whinny was loud in the morning air. Her neck arched and she bucked once, scattering the yearlings. Without a sound, Sloan slid from her back to sprawl on the grassy bank, blood flowing from his mouth.
Roan’s feet hit the gangplank, his eyes searching the water. From several yards downstream, Katherine’s head broke the surface. She sputtered and shook her head, her arms and hands moving to hold herself afloat.
“You okay, honey?” Roan’s long steps carried him to the bank where several men had been spurred into action by the sight of Katherine’s struggle. One tossed a rope to her, and it floated just beyond her grasp. She reached out, her fingers snagging it with ease.
Her eyes sought Roan, and she shoved long strands of wet hair from her face. Wrapping the rope around her wrist, she pulled herself closer to the men who leaned to help. Eager hands grasped her, lifting her from the water.
Katherine plucked at the wet dress, pulling it from her legs. Her teeth chattering, her legs trembling, she shivered in the sunlight. “Am I all right? No, I’m not all right!”
“Get that mare!” Roan’s shout brought Katherine’s head erect, and she abandoned her efforts to put herself in order. The black mare was trotting down the riverbank, shivering and tossing her head. His hands full calming the string of horses and holding firmly to Katherine’s chestnut mare, Roan watched as two men approached the black horse. Her reins dragging in the dust, she was an easy target, and within seconds, she was captured.
Katherine drew a deep breath, but it wasn’t enough. Her vision blurred and she faltered, aware only of blinding sunlight and the voices around her. As her legs trembled beneath her, she felt a firm hand grip her waist. With ease, she was lifted and carried, her slender body held tightly.
“Roan?” It was a trembling whisper.
“Yeah, I’ve got you, Kate. You’re all right.”
“I’m telling you, I did not faint.” Steam rising around her, Katherine scrunched down into the bathtub Roan had helped drag into their stateroom.
His eyes lit with amusement. If Katherine could argue, she was well on her way to recovery. “Well, honey, if I’d a known that, I wouldn’t have gotten all wet, luggin’ you in here.”
She sniffed and rubbed at her nose with the back of her hand. “I could have walked. I just got a little dizzy for a minute.” She bent her head, scooping the trailing length of her hair into one hand and swishing it through the
hot water. “Hand me that soap, would you, please?”
Stripped to the waist, Roan knelt by the tub. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll wash it for you.”
Her eyes closed and she sighed with anticipation. “Reckon I could handle that. Besides, you owe me, Devereaux.”
His brow rose as he bent to the task he’d assumed, his big hands making suds in her dark hair. “How do you figure that?” Gentle against her scalp, he rubbed the residue of the river from the long strands.
She hid her smile, burying her face against her knees. “I could have drowned, and all you cared about was the horses. You left it to strangers to pull me out of the water.”
He tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her head up, leaning to breathe his words against her mouth. “If I’d let anything happen to those babies of yours, I’d never have heard the end of it, lady. Anyway, I asked you if you were okay.”
She blinked at him, her eyes tearing from the soap.
He shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t you dare cry, Katherine, you hear me?”
“I’m not! You’ve got soap in my eyes.”
He frowned at her, one hand lifting the cloth to splash clear water across her forehead. “Mad at me, Kate?”
She took the cloth from him and squeezed it out, washing her face quickly, then holding the cloth to her burning eyes. His hands turned gentle as he rubbed her hair, waiting for her to speak.
“Duck your head, so I can rinse the soap out,” he told her after a few moments. She complied, lowering herself to swish her hair in the water. “You all clean yet?” He scanned the long locks with a critical eye.
She nodded, her flesh warming nicely from the hot water.
“Then raise up here, and I’ll rinse your hair with this bucket.” He grasped her elbow and lifted her. She knelt obligingly and he poured the warm stream through her hair. Her fingers working the soap from the long strands, she sighed her pleasure, relishing the slow drizzle of warm water over her head and shoulders.
He leaned close, and his warm breath brought chills to her skin as he repeated his question. “You mad at me, Kate?” It was a silky whisper, meant to entice.
Her head turned, and her look was pained, as though she hurt for him. “You killed him, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did.” His mouth tightened and his eyes were dark and hooded. “It wasn’t the horses, Kate. We coulda lived without them. But I don’t want to ever be as scared as I was when I saw that gun in your back. He could have killed you, honey. And I don’t want to even think about life without you.”
Her arms rose to encircle his neck and she drew him closer, her mouth seeking his. “I was never mad, Roan. I knew you wouldn’t let me drown. Now, if you’d let anything happen to my horses, I’d have been after your hide.” The words were whispered against his lips, and she laughed as he grunted his disbelief.
His hands grasped her waist, and he lifted her to her feet and over the side of the tub to stand before him. Still kneeling, he wrapped her in the towel and dried her with long, steady strokes. His hands were tender, gentle against her skin, his eyes feasting on the feminine flesh he cared for with a lavish touch. He patted carefully at her breasts, his eyes narrowing on the reddened area that had known the touch of Sloan’s hand.
His voice was guttural, anger roughening the words he spoke. “I could kill him again for hurting you. I’m sorry, Katherine. I didn’t look out for you the way I should’ve.”
Her smile was warm, teasing and welcome to his anguished gaze. “I like having you on your knees, Devereaux,” she told him, her whisper husky and inviting. Her hands slid from his shoulders to his back and she clasped him to her, bending to press her cheek against the top of his head. “I’m chilled again. Do you think you could get me warm?”
It was an invitation he would have been a fool to resist. And no one had ever called Roan Devereaux a fool.
Chapter Nineteen
Riding astride in a dress was not her first choice, but Katherine was determined not to meet her husband’s family clothed in a pair of britches and a boy’s flannel shirt. She fretted, tugging the fabric down until only her ankles showed, thankful for the fullness of the skirt. Lifting her right hand, she patted her hair once more, tucking a stray strand behind her ear.
“You look fine.” From beside her, Roan’s reassuring words were small comfort.
“I’d feel better if we’d gotten here after dark. Getting off this horse is going to expose a whole lot of me,” she grumbled.
“Ridin’ up to a dark house isn’t too healthy, honey. You don’t want a shotgun pointin’ our way, do you?”
She slanted a look in his direction. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”
He refused to swallow the bait, and his shrug was genial. “Just up ahead, around that bend in the road, we should be able to see the house.”
Katherine stood in her stirrups and leaned forward. Her eyes glistened a bit as she considered what this confrontation would mean to the man she’d married. Pray God they would welcome him with open arms. Her head bowed for a second as the petition wended its way through her mind.
A dog barked directly ahead, and from farther away, another joined it. Katherine’s heart beat faster as they rounded the bend in the narrow road. Before her was a plantation house, in need of repair, but still standing and showing no outward sign of damage. The front door opened and a man stepped out onto the long porch, hesitating as he spotted the approaching riders. Then, one hand lifted to shade his eyes, he moved closer to the steps.
His piercing gaze rested on Roan, and as if he considered the tall, silent man to be of little consequence, he looked at the woman beside him. Dark beneath bushy eyebrows, his eyes took Katherine’s measure, and his head nodded in an almost imperceptible movement. Looking beyond her, he assessed the string of horses in her wake. Dismissing the packhorse with a derisive glance, he took stock of the yearlings, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the black mare bringing up the end of the string.
Roan was immobile in his saddle, back straight, reins held in an easy grip. A sardonic smile twisted his mouth as he noted the older man’s inability to hide his interest in Katherine’s horses. LeRoy Devereaux had never been able to resist a beautiful filly.
“If you’re interested in sellin’ those animals, I just might be interested in the black filly.” Drawled in the fashion of a Louisiana plantation owner, the words were directed at Roan. LeRoy Devereaux had just extended a truce of sorts.
Roan shook his head. “Sorry about that. The horses aren’t mine to sell. They belong to my wife.”
The dark eyes narrowed and rested once more on Katherine. “You married to him?”
She glanced at Roan, rigid and ungiving as he waited beside her. Her gaze returned once more to the man facing her. “My name is Katherine Devereaux. The horses are mine. But they’re not for sale.”
LeRoy’s shoulders lifted in an expressive movement. “We’ll see. Maybe I can change your mind.”
“Maybe you’re in for a surprise,” Roan offered. “Kate’s not one to give up what belongs to her. Hell, she wouldn’t let ‘em out of her sight all the way from Illinois.”
“You’ve had a long ride. Were you planning on coming in?”
“Yeah, I reckon we could do that,” Roan allowed. Dismounting with an ease Katherine envied, he untied the lead rope from his saddle horn and faced his father once more. “You got any hands livin’ here?”
“Yep. In fact, Jethro is headin’ this way right now. Maybe you’d let him take those horses and put them up.”
Roan’s eyes warmed as he watched the husky, dark-skinned man approaching from the barn. Snatching his shapeless hat from his head, he headed directly for the tall visitor.
“I knew that was you, Mr. Roan. When I saw you a’sittin’ on that horse, I knew.” His grin was wide, and his hand was extended.
Roan accepted it with pleasure. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Thought you’d have headed out, after
the war and all.”
Jethro cast a quick look at the man on the porch. “Yore pa and me come to an agreement,” he said in a low, rumbling tone.
“Can you put those horses up in the stable, Jethro?” LeRoy’s voice boomed the query.
“Yassah, I sure can.” Jethro nodded his head quickly and took the lead rope from Roan. “Want your mares taken care of, too?” His words were directed at Roan, but his eyes were on the chestnut animal Katherine rode. “Sure is a pretty lady,” he said respectfully.
“The mare or my wife?” Roan’s voice was amused.
Jethro looked at him askance. “I wouldn’t mean no disrespect to your woman, Mr. Roan. You know better’n that.” His grin reappeared quickly, and his voice lowered. “They’s both mighty good-lookin’, though “
Roan stepped to Katherine’s side, and his hands lifted her from the saddle, tight about her waist as he swept her from the horse. Holding her before him, he clasped her firmly, sensing the weariness she was trying to hide.
“You all right, Kate?” She was wrinkled a bit around the edges, but she stood erect now, and unless he missed his guess, she was good for whatever came next.
Katherine’s hands brushed at her skirts and she nodded at Roan. “I’m fine. I could do with a drink of water, though.”
LeRoy watched from the veranda, and his eyes were piercing in their scrutiny. “I could offer you some tea, ma’am.”
Katherine inclined her head in a graceful gesture, almost that of a queen accepting her just due. “That would be fine.” Now where the hell had she learned that sort of thing? Roan wondered, watching with barely concealed amazement as his wife approached the wide step leading to the verandah. His father met her there and extended a hand. That Katherine’s own fingers were callused, her flesh tanned to a golden brown and her hair beginning to escape its confinement appeared to matter not at all to the old man.
Loving Katherine Page 24
