After Sundown (14 page)

But then, she might never have that chance.

Because when she left this cell and left Eminence, it would be to spend the rest of her life as a fugitive... or in a Missouri prison. Either prospect that loomed before her looked bleak. Dangerous. Frightening.

And lonely.

She had never really felt that emotion, even though she had spent much of her life alone.

Maybe because she had never really had friends before.

Annie blinked, and it wasn’t just soap that stung her eyes. She had been right before: God had only spared her life to punish her. For what she was, for what she had done.

One painful day at a time.

The bathwater had gone cold. Slowly, she tilted her head forward and finished rinsing the soap out of her hair, wringing the tangled mass of curls between her hands. But her enjoyment had evaporated with the steam.

She stood, shivering in the chilly air, water sluicing down her body and dripping on the rug. As she reached for her towel, a noise from outside startled her, made her glance up.

It didn’t come from the sitting room—but from outside her windows.

She froze, her arm extended, her eyes widening. It had sounded like a footstep. A heavy footstep.

But who would be lurking out there at night? There wasn’t anything in back of the hotel but an empty field.

She grabbed the towel and held it against her. The drapes were closed, the room lit only by one candle. No one could see in. And she couldn’t see out. Maybe she
was
going crazy. It was probably just the wind. Or one of the town’s stray dogs. Or—

She heard it again: definitely a footstep, so loud and startling, she jumped backward.

And tripped on the edge of the tub.

Her weight knocked it over and she fell, yelping in panic, water splashing all over. She landed on the rug, hard, crying out in pain.

All the air knocked from her, she lay on her back in the soapsuds. The world turned hazy for a moment. She heard booted steps pounding across the sitting room’s wooden floor.

“What happened?” Lucas called from the door of her cell. “Are you all right?”

Annie couldn’t speak, her ribs ablaze with pain. She managed only a groan.

The key turned in the lock.

“
No
,” she croaked, gasping for air. “Don’t!”

As usual, he ignored her, yanking the door open. In a panic, she reached for her now-soaked towel and clutched it in front of her.

And just managed to conceal the bare essentials before Lucas came inside. He stepped around the blanket, carrying a lantern, his voice suspicious. “What the hell hap—”

He didn’t finish, his jaw going slack.

“I... I tripped.” Annie’s entire body was aflame with embarrassment. The lantern in his hand offered enough light for him to see far too much. She had never felt so mortified, lying there at his feet in a puddle of water and suds, covered only with a wet towel.

But to her astonishment, he didn’t mock her. Or pounce on her. He remained frozen where he stood. “Did you hurt yourself—”

“It hurts, but I...” She tried to sit up and stopped, inhaling sharply at the pain.

“Don’t move, damn it. You could’ve punctured a lung.”

“No.”

She wasn’t denying what he said but what he did: He set the lantern on a table, crouched down, and eased her back onto the rug, gently probing her side. “Can you breathe all right? Does this hurt?”

She flinched away. “Yes, it hurts.” And she did feel breathless, but wasn’t sure if that was from her injuries or from his touch. “If... if I had punctured a lung, wouldn’t I be dead by now?”

“Probably.” He arched one brow. “And you definitely wouldn’t be able to talk so much.”

Annie almost forgot the pain for a second, gazing up at him in the candlelight. The flickering shadows emphasized the strong lines of his jaw and the deep green of his eyes. With his tanned skin and his tangled black hair and his beard-stubbled cheeks, he looked so dark and masculine and somehow, so undeniably... appealing.

She really must be losing her mind.

When he touched her again, his hands closing on her shoulders, she tensed. “I’m fine,” she protested, “really.”

“Do you want to spend the rest of the night lying on a sopping wet rug?”

“N-No,” she admitted, surprised by his gentleness as he helped her to a sitting position. She sucked in a breath between her teeth. Every movement hurt, and she was shivering with cold. The wet towel she kept clutched against her wasn’t doing much good. In any way.

He stood and yanked down the blanket she had hung between the mantel and the bedpost. Then he paused, glancing at the door of her cell, which he had left open.

“Yes,” she said dryly. “My brilliant plan was to... whack you over the head with a bar of soap and... run for it.” She gulped another breath. “Bend down and I’ll give it a try.”

She wasn’t sure—couldn’t believe it—but she thought she heard a chuckle come from deep in his throat. She had never heard him laugh before.

He did bend down, but only to wrap the blanket around her shoulders. Then he helped her up.

Her legs felt as wobbly as jelly, and for once, she was grateful for his strong hold on her. He eased her onto the chaise longue in front of the windows.

“I’m not trying to escape,” she assured him, gathering the blanket around her as she sat on the edge of the plush chair.
At least not at the moment
, she amended privately. “Just... clumsy.”

She flicked a glance at the window and decided not to mention the mysterious footsteps. Whoever it was had no doubt heard the commotion and was long gone. It could’ve been one of her friends, working on some new and better escape plan. Or just some drunken prospector wandering along in the dark.

Lucas righted the fallen tub and scooped her clothes off the chair. “Do you want the doctor?”

She noticed that the suspicion had returned to his voice. “No,” she said, gingerly touching her throbbing side underneath the blanket. She didn’t want to drag Daniel over here in the pouring rain. She would be fine until morning, when one of her friends came to take care of her. “I think I’m all right. Just... sore. And cold.”

“That’s probably because it’s freezing in here.” He dropped her clothes into her lap.

“It usually is at night,” she said pointedly, looking up at him. “I doubt the stove in your room was meant to heat this one, too.”

Without another word, he turned and walked out into the sitting room.

Annie watched him go, her brow furrowed. So much for helping her, she thought, not sure whether she was relieved or annoyed. She glanced at the clothes in her lap. She had intended to put on a nightgown after her bath. But for the moment, the clothes at hand were better than none at all.

Getting dressed wasn’t easy, not with her aching ribs, especially since she tried to hold the blanket in place at the same time. She barely managed to wiggle into her pantalettes and camisole before Lucas reappeared, carrying an armful of wood.

“Now what are you doing?” she asked in surprise.

“As long as I’m in here with you,” he said grudgingly, “you can have a fire.”

Before Annie could decide whether to thank him or protest his continued presence in her room, he pulled the cell door shut behind him.

Then he took the key from his pocket and locked them in. Together.

Her heart made a nervous little skip. “I... I...”

“You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” she said belatedly.

He slid the key back into his pocket, walking across the squishy rug to put the logs in the fireplace. A few moments later, with the help of the candle, he had a fire started. “You’re sure you don’t want the doctor?”

“I’m sure.” She mostly didn’t want
Lucas
in here with her, but apparently she wasn’t being given a choice about that.

“Good.”

Annie wasn’t sure how to interpret that soft, one-word comment. But she
was
grateful for the fire. It was the first time the room had held any warmth.

Lucas straightened and looked around. “So where do your lady friends keep your bandages?”

She blinked at him. “I can wait until one of them comes tomorrow morn—”

“You’ll never be able to sleep. I’ve bandaged up my deputies before when they had busted ribs. It’ll take two minutes.”

Annie recognized that tone of voice, and knew better than to argue with him when he used it. The man was accustomed to giving orders and having them followed.

She gestured toward the dresser, surprised that her comfort mattered to him. Until today, he hadn’t seemed all that concerned about her. “Top drawer.”

He walked over and rummaged through the drawer’s contents, while she watched him, puzzled. It seemed whenever she was convinced that Lucas McKenna was utterly cold and unfeeling, he would show another side of himself. One that was gentle. Even thoughtful.

It made her suspect that this legendary lawman might actually have a heart beneath that silver star...

Annie cut that thought short, looking away, reminding herself that she didn’t dare trust her
own
heart. Especially when it came to men by the name of McKenna.

She’d made mistakes in judgment before. Serious mistakes. Mistakes she was
not
going to repeat.

He returned to her side, carrying the roll of bandages. Annie held her breath and held the blanket tightly closed at her throat as he moved behind her. In one easy motion, he swung his leg over the chaise like it was a saddle and sat down.

There were only a few inches between them... between his chest and her back. She remained very, very still. The scent of leather and the outdoors, his scent, surrounded her. The fire crackling on the hearth seemed to have gotten awfully loud. And hot.

“This isn’t going to work if you’re all wrapped up in that blanket,” he said after a moment.

“I’m not... wearing much.” She nodded toward her blouse and skirt, which were on the floor.

“I think I can handle it. You’re not that irresistible, Antoinette.”

He said it in that mocking tone. The one she hated. She gritted her teeth to hold back a tart reply, reminding herself that he
was
trying to help her, when he didn’t have to.

She loosened her hold on the blanket, enough to let it slide down her shoulders, slowly, to her waist. She trembled at the touch of the air against her wet skin. She was still soaked, hadn’t had the chance to towel herself dry. And her thin cotton camisole wasn’t much in the way of clothing.

Everything would be all right, she told herself nervously. All he could see was her back.

On the other hand, she thought a second later, he was taller than her. Which meant he could probably see over her shoulder.

“Move your hair out of the way.”

His voice had shifted again, gotten deeper. Softer.

She reached up with one hand and lifted the sopping mass of curls off her back, pulling her long hair around in front of her, glad that it offered a bit more coverage than her damp camisole.

“Now move this out of the way.” He touched the bottom hem of the garment.

Take a breath
, Annie ordered herself, the brush of his fingertips against her spine sizzling through her like a lightning bolt.
Take a breath
. It took a moment for the command to travel from her brain to her lungs.

With trembling fingers, she tugged her camisole up, just far enough to expose her rib cage.

He swore, vividly.

Annie knew why: because he could see her bruise, the ugly black and purple and yellow mark that stretched halfway around her. “It only looks bad because it’s healing,” she told him. “At least, that’s what Daniel says.”

He didn’t reply. She heard him unrolling the bandage.

And a second later, she couldn’t form another rational thought.

Because he had leaned closer, reaching around her to start wrapping her ribs with the long strip of white fabric. She couldn’t move a muscle, vividly aware of the rough feel of his wool shirt brushing against her back. And his hands. And every droplet of water sliding down the curves of her body. And his breath soft against the nape of her neck.

And his hands.

She had never experienced his touch this way before—strong and yet gentle, so careful of her, so... tender against her skin.

“You all right?”

“Yes,” she lied, her voice a breathy whisper. She inhaled and exhaled in shallow, unsteady little gasps. And not just because it was always a bit painful having her injuries tended.

Annie shut her eyes, her heart thumping wildly as he continued working, smoothly and efficiently. She wished she had opened the curtains. The room felt too enclosed, enveloped in heat and darkness and silence. Like they were the only two people in the world.

She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision, her thoughts. How was it that Lucas McKenna could render her so addle-brained?

How could he stir her blood as no man ever had?

“Never seen broken ribs heal up this quick,” he commented, sounding perfectly calm, cool. Not the least bit addled. “Your
señorita
friend must put some magic ingredients in that potion of hers.”

“Maybe.” Desperate to fill the silence, Annie tried to think of something more to say. “Being a marshal must be dangerous work, if you and your deputies get injured a lot.”

His only response was a noncommittal grunt, which she couldn’t interpret. Did he mean it wasn’t really all that dangerous?

Or he didn’t care about the danger?

“The papers say you’re one of the best.” After a moment, she added, “Marshals.”

“I do all right.”

That sounded modest. Odd, she thought, for a man she had considered arrogant.

“Where do you live?” she asked impulsively. “In Indian Territory?”

For a long moment, he didn’t reply. The crackling of the fire on the hearth and the spattering of the rain against the windows made the only sound. She thought maybe he wouldn’t tell her. Maybe it wasn’t his habit to reveal personal information to anyone.

Especially not to an outlaw in his custody.

“I keep a few things in a rooming house thereabouts.”

“Oh.” That didn’t sound like much of a home.