by Amy Sandas
His brows furrowed. “You will not be harmed, Eve.”
Tension—and something else—rose up in reaction to his words. The deep intonation in his voice and the quiet, steady look in his eyes stabbed straight to her center. She wanted so badly to believe him, to believe that she was safe in his company when she hadn’t felt safe for so long. But how stupid would she have to be to trust an outlaw, a man who was committed to escorting her against her will to a stranger who would decide what was to become of her next?
Would she ever be free to decide her own fate?
A flash of willful frustration had her stating in clear defiance, “I will not be ransomed.”
Her declaration did not seem to surprise him. In fact, he did not appear to have any reaction at all. He just stared back at her. Though his physical appearance gave the impression of barely contained power and strength, his demeanor was calm and still. It was clear that his thoughts ran deep, but his focus did not falter.
Uncertainty threatened to overwhelm her practiced facade. The man before her promised she wouldn’t be harmed, but she recalled the last time she’d trusted a man with her well-being, her future. She’d not only trusted Matthew; she’d believed for a short time that she could grow to love him.
How stupid. How dreadfully weak and naive she’d been.
It was her shame and regret that finally had her lowering her gaze. For some reason, she did not want this man to see such things in her.
While she kept her gaze trained on the canteen grasped tightly in her hands, he walked away. His steps were so quiet that they could barely be heard above the trickling sound of the creek and insects buzzing nearby. But she felt his retreat as much as she heard it, and relief flowed through her. She expelled her breath, and tears pricked fiercely at the back of her eyes.
After a few moments, she managed to gather herself back together. She would not fall apart now. It served no purpose. She had accepted that she would have to fight for her freedom, and she would do so. The current situation she faced was a temporary detour. She would find a way to endure her time with the outlaws until she was on her own once again.
Eight
After a while, Gabriel returned. Without a word, he swung gracefully onto the back of his horse, then urged the large animal forward as he extended his hand to her. With a sense of calm acceptance, she put her hand in his and gasped a breath as she was lifted into place in front of him.
The solid wall of his body behind her and the power of the animal beneath had become familiar. Though she didn’t completely relax her posture, she at least found a way to sit that was less jarring and bruising to her backside. A good thing since the rest of the day continued with more hard riding and more silence.
A raw, open expanse of wilderness spread out to either side as the imposing rise of the Rocky Mountains filled the horizon ahead of them. As the hours passed, Eve acknowledged that they never once came within sight of a town or any kind of human establishment. They never even passed another traveler. The world they rode through was more barren and isolated than anything she’d ever experienced.
As night approached, they stopped to make camp in the shadow of a collection of large rocks that rose from the rugged landscape. Gabriel dismounted first, then turned to assist her to the ground. Eve could not escape the rush of sensation that claimed her in the brief moments when his hands were around her waist.
It seemed silly when she’d spent the day sitting in front of him atop the horse, doing her best to limit their contact to the press of his thighs on hers and the occasional brush of his arms as he handled the reins or a brief bump of his chest against her back. But this was different. This was face-to-face intentional contact.
She should have been grateful when he released her as soon as her legs were steady beneath her, but that wasn’t exactly the right word for what she was feeling.
As he attended to his horse and then started to gather wood to build a fire, Eve found herself wandering around camp, trying to bring proper life back into her stiff legs and aching back. Once the worst of the kinks seemed to be worked out of her body, she found a place to sit on a boulder with a somewhat flat surface.
Despite the fact Gabriel remained busy with his tasks and never glanced her way directly, she felt herself constantly in his awareness.
With nothing else to do, Eve found herself watching him rather intently as he crouched before the pile of dead sticks and dried branches he’d collected from beneath the spare bushes and trees. He expertly struck a spark with the flint he carried, then leaned in close to blow gently at the newborn flame, coaxing it to life.
Once the fire was going strong, he removed something from his shoulder bag and rose to his feet. His dark eyes met hers the moment he turned toward her, a length of rope in his hand.
Everything inside her rebelled at the thought of being bound again, but she remained strong and unmoving. She would not let him see how vulnerable she felt in that moment.
When he reached her, he crouched before her, and she realized he did that a lot—condensed his great size when he was close to her.
His gaze penetrated the gathering dusk as he studied her face. She remained silently resistant, her attention fixated on the rope in his hands. She thought she heard him sigh before he spoke. “It’s necessary. Until I can trust you.”
Her gaze flew up to meet his at the words.
He spoke of trusting her? She was his captive. What need did he have to trust her? She found the idea so odd that it threw her off for a moment, and she didn’t realize he hadn’t moved to tie her up but seemed to be waiting. For her permission?
“I won’t run,” she stated firmly. “I’m not that stupid.”
“Stupid, no. But desperation can push us to do many things.” He lowered his chin while holding her gaze. “I need to be sure. For your safety.”
It bothered her that he could see her desperation, though she did her best to hide it. What else could he see?
She searched his face for some indication of what he might be thinking, but there was nothing to read in his strong features, dark eyes, or wide, unsmiling mouth.
She suddenly wondered how a smile might alter his appearance. Her belly warmed strangely at the thought.
She was disturbed by her wayward thoughts; her gaze jumped back up to meet his, and her breath caught on a shallow inhale.
His straight brows had lowered over his eyes, shadowing any glimmer of what might be running through his mind. But there was a new intensity in his expression that caused heat to rise instantly in her cheeks. As though he were asking some harsh and quiet question that had nothing to do with the rope in his hands.
And then the question was gone, replaced by that neutral calm she had come to expect from him. “Your foot,” he said simply, reminding her of his purpose.
She swallowed hard past the uncertainty in her chest. With a small nod, she shifted her gaze to the fire glowing bright in the gathering dusk. Despite his show of waiting for her permission, she didn’t truly have a choice in the matter.
Having received her assent, he reached beneath the hem of her skirt. His large hand encircled her ankle just above the edge of her boot as he drew her foot toward him. She felt the rope slip against her stockinged leg before it settled around the top edge of her boot. After securing the tether with a tight knot, he rose to full height and circled around behind her to loop the rope over a nearby boulder, knotting it around the base where it couldn’t be slipped free.
The indignity of the situation quickly chased away her previous awkwardness.
“I’ll be right back,” he said from behind her.
Panic flared. He was leaving her? Tied to a rock with no means of protection against…whatever might come out of the wilderness?
“Wait. Where are you going?” she asked, twisting around to glance behind her. But there was no one there. He had already
gone.
As full darkness started to descend, so too did the chill of night. The warmth of the fire beckoned, and after several minutes of staring into the deepening shadows and wondering when the outlaw might return, Eve became cold enough to discover just how long a leash he had given her. Rising slowly to her feet to accommodate the soreness that remained after riding all day, she approached the fire.
Her tether allowed her to get close enough that she could make use of the heat of the flames, but not so close that she could use the fire to burn through the rope. Not that she would have bothered to do so. She had absolutely no experience in traveling through a remote mountain range. She had no idea where they were exactly, where to find water or someone else to help her. Not to mention, she had no means of defending herself against wild creatures or the elements.
She wouldn’t try to escape. She had accepted that she would be in Gabriel’s company until he handed her off to the leader of the outlaw gang.
She was still kneeling in the dirt in her fine traveling dress with her hands extended toward the flames when her silent captor returned with a large rabbit in his hand. He had been gone less than fifteen minutes.
She had not even heard a shot.
Her eyes narrowed as he approached the fire. In fact, he wasn’t carrying a gun.
Kneeling on the ground across the fire from her, he efficiently dressed the rabbit before fashioning a spit over the flames and putting the animal on to roast.
Then, still without saying a single word, he shook the travel dust from the sheepskin and blanket that had been on his horse. He laid the blanket out on the ground and set the sheepskin aside. From his shoulder bag, he pulled out the wool blanket he’d covered her with the night before and set it next to the sheepskin. Then he lowered himself to sit cross-legged in the middle of the horse blanket, resting his large hands on the surface of his thighs. Only then did he look in her direction.
Eve didn’t realize how intently she’d been watching him until his gaze slammed suddenly into hers. This time, the heat spread beyond her cheeks as her entire body warmed with a flush of awareness.
He did not seem surprised to find her staring. In fact, it was almost as though he’d expected it. His gaze steady, he gave a short lift of his chin. “Where do you come from, Eve?”
She remained silent.
He could ask all the questions he could think of. She would never provide information that might connect her back to Boston. And Matthew.
Rather than pressing her for a response, he remained silent as well, his back straight and strong, the two long braids falling over his shoulders to his waist, his hands resting on his muscled thighs, his expression calm.
After spending the entire day together, she knew nothing about him beyond the obvious. He was clearly of native blood but went by the name of a biblical archangel. He was an outlaw, and as such was likely capable any number of dastardly deeds, yet he assured her she wouldn’t be harmed and had done nothing to belie the statement. In fact, he seemed intent on keeping a physical distance from her unless it was necessary to do otherwise.
“You will not answer my question,” he stated simply.
Her instinctual wariness slowly eased as she realized he would not force the issue. At least not now. “I will not be ransomed,” she said firmly, repeating her earlier declaration.
There was no change in his expression as he responded with a deep rolling sound that briefly lifted his chest. “Hmm.”
Then he rose smoothly to his feet and approached the fire to check the rabbit. The scent of roasting meat called to the clawing hunger in her belly. After removing the animal from the spit, he tore off a piece of the meat and extended it toward her.
Eve looked as it with a dubious expression.
“If you’re hungry, you’ll eat it.”
Without a plate or utensils or anything? She looked up into his eyes as he waited patiently. Her hunger was fierce. Fierce enough to set aside the proper manners ingrained in her being. Reaching out, she took the meat from his hand.
It smelled wonderful and tasted even better.
By the time she finished that piece, he was there, offering water from his canteen, then another piece of the savory meat.
Eve never would have expected to appreciate such an unrefined meal so much. But such things were relative, she supposed, like so many other things in life—as she had come to understand since the day of her wedding.
When the rabbit was fully consumed, Gabriel doused a handkerchief in water and offered it to her to clean her fingers and wipe any remaining grease from her lips. When she handed it back to him, he did the same. For a moment she was fascinated by the sight of the cloth swiping across his wide mouth before he tucked the handkerchief away.
“If you need privacy, the rope will reach around behind those bushes,” he said, nodding toward the edge of the outcropping where some craggy foliage created shadows from the firelight.
Beyond that, the darkness was total and endless. What dangers lurked outside the flickering light? What perils still awaited her on this journey?
What did it matter?
Her exhaustion was making her maudlin and philosophical when she needed to be pragmatic and focused.
Rising to her feet, she felt every protest in her body: the tightness of the muscles in her legs, the stiff, burning soreness across her back, the constant tension in her shoulders, and the uncertainty in her chest. With as much grace and dignity as she could manage, she left the light of the fire behind.
As she crept slowly past the bushes, her eyes began to make out vague outlines of her environment—the thick, solid lines of more rocks and the rustling shapes of the bushes. She continued forward until the tug of the rope advised she could go no farther. Then she turned around and looked back toward the camp. A warm orange glow spread across the rocky terrain and gently illuminated the distant sky overhead.
It was oddly beautiful.
Then the sound of some wild creature howling in the distance reminded her she was in the middle of a vast wilderness. She addressed her needs quickly and returned to the fire.
While she was gone, Gabriel had laid out the sheepskin on her side of the fire and set the wool blanket beside it.
“Tomorrow is another long day,” he said from his spot in the center of the horse blanket. “You should sleep.”
Eve lowered herself carefully onto the sheepskin, grateful for its softness and the added warmth it would provide against the cooling earth. Lying on her side, facing the fire, she unrolled the blanket and drew it up around her shoulders.
How strange life had become in such a short time! That single moment when she’d decided to claim Sarah’s name had sent her path spiraling off in a direction she never could have anticipated.
The rope around her ankle did not bode well for freedom, but hope and desperation were powerful motivators. At least she was alive.
Nine
Gabriel waited until the woman’s breathing eased to a deep and steady rhythm before he lay down. Stretching out on his back, he folded his hands over his abdomen and gazed up at the endless stretch of stars above.
The sight usually soothed him. It was familiar and comfortable and felt as much like home as anything else in his life.
But tonight he was restless. He’d been restless and unsettled from the moment the woman sleeping across the fire had opened her eyes the night before and marked him with her quiet, seeking stare.
Gabriel resisted the urge to glance her way.
She was fine.
Better than fine. She seemed to be handling her kidnapping with an exceptional amount of resilience. Far more than would have been expected of anyone. He should feel lucky he didn’t have the task of escorting a hysterical woman into the mountains. Instead, her calm acceptance made him wary.
Beneath her quiet, complacent manner was something un
breakable. He could see it in her eyes. Her fear was apparent, but so was her courage. From the beginning, he knew not to underestimate her.
So, it didn’t surprise him when she declared she wouldn’t be ransomed. He had been waiting for her to reveal the resistance rooted inside her.
Unfortunately, what became of her was not his decision to make.
His job was to bring her to the valley. Luke would decide the rest.
Though Luke could be hotheaded and reckless with his personal safety, he chose the gang’s jobs with particular care and expected his men to follow certain rules when it came to innocent bystanders. Motivated by far more than greed or the simple need for survival, Luke never led his men into unnecessary danger, but his word was final.
Gabriel had never been given cause not to trust him. But for some reason, the idea of Luke deciding the fate of this small, pale-haired woman who called herself Eve did not sit well with Gabriel.
That morning, when she’d asked him to release her, he’d almost been tempted. The determined desperation in her eyes was hauntingly familiar…which was exactly the reason he had to refuse.
After being separated from his family in childhood, Gabriel had deliberately avoided becoming attached to anything. Not to the men he lived and worked with. Not to any idea of home. Not to anyone.
Gabriel’s path was fated to be a solitary one.
It was a difficult lesson he’d been forced to accept as a young man when he’d finally returned to his tribe, only to discover he no longer belonged. His time away had changed him—not for good or bad, but enough for him to realize his path had diverged from what it might have been if he’d never left. His experience in the ceremonial sun dance had confirmed that it was his destiny to make his way alone.
When he’d later joined up with Luke and the others, it was with the knowledge that his loyalty would always be to himself first. Eventually, he would part ways with the gang. His path was not destined to run parallel to anyone for long, but for a time at least, the gang provided a place where he could exist on his own terms.
