Benjamin (8 page)

“Not that I agree that I needed it.”

He frowned at her. “Why not?”

She threw her right hand in the air. “I put this on to ride through a town and not make a spectacle. To be normal. Ben, I don’t know how to do that. I’ve been living as a man. I gave up my right to anything feminine a year ago.”

“I think you’re full of shit.” He kneed Paladin into a faster pace. “You didn’t give up any rights. You threw them away along with your life to chase a ghost and rescue your son. Don’t tell me any different, because I see what’s your heart, Grace Beckett. It’s a scary place, just like mine.”

Ben didn’t know where the words had come from, but they rolled from deep within him and rang of the truth. She sucked in an audible breath but didn’t reply.

He continued as though he couldn’t stop until he’d expunged the words from within his soul. “It’s time we were honest with each other, especially if we’re going to be riding side by side for another week or more. We’re both broken inside and we both want revenge against the family that ruined us. While the sun shines around us, we live in the darkest of darkness. It’s hard to see the light when you wear the blinders of hate.” His voice broke and his chest threatened to explode from the emotions that banged around against his ribs. Ben
never
let the demons out and, for some unknown reason, Grace inspired them to wreak havoc.

“Then why did you come with me?” Her voice was so low, he barely heard her.

It was a valid question. One he’d asked himself over and over since they’d left his hideout in the woods. There was never only one reason.

“Aside from revenge, which is obvious, I think I’m also doing this for redemption. I’ve made so many mistakes that led to more mistakes and worse. There’s no salvation for me, but perhaps I can redeem my tattered soul a little by finding your Henry.” The image of the boy, a small version of the blonde woman who rode beside him, raced through his mind, weeping, enduring, cowering. Ben wanted to vomit at the thought of another child being hurt.

His voice gained strength with each word that dropped from his mouth. “I should have done something a long time ago. Nobody deserves to be taken from their homes and families. Nobody deserves to be sold like chattel no matter who you are or where you come from. I should have stood up for all of those who can’t speak for themselves.” Something wet hit his hand and he wondered if it was raining, but no, it was a tear. Ben shook with a storm of emotion that raged within him. “You were right. I was hiding. I was pretending I didn’t exist and that the world could go on without me in it. Damn you, Grace, for reminding me the world still turned.”

There was no rancor in his words, just a tired acceptance of what she’d done and why. He wasn’t angry with her. He was angry with himself.

She rode up beside him, close enough to grab his hand. He didn’t, couldn’t, look at her, but she held his hand so tight, his fingers ground against hers.

“You’re right about all of it, but you’re wrong about one thing. You deserve salvation because you are worth it. Don’t ever believe that the world forgot you, because it didn’t. Your family loves you and they will be the first to join me in telling you that you are worth saving.” Her voice shook with what he assumed was tears, but he daren’t turn his head even a fraction of an inch or he would lose any semblance of control.

“That doesn’t make it true.”

A sob echoed past him. “Maybe, not but perhaps between the two of us, we can make it true.” She pulled their joined hands to her chest. “The one constant in both our lives is love. It’s the force behind what we do. It’s not who we were that matters, Ben, it’s who we can be and who we choose to be.”

He wanted to believe her. Sweet Jesus, he wanted so badly to believe her. Words didn’t heal the deep wounds that festered within him. Actions only made them worse, given how violent he’d become when he unleashed his anger. Now she offered him the chance to believe.

Ben didn’t think he could.

“How about we call a truce?” She still held his hand tight in her grip. “We stay honest with each other and ride together toward the compound. We keep each other safe.”

It was a novel concept. Trusting a woman to keep him safe wasn’t, considering his four fierce sisters, but Grace was still a stranger. Ben had only trusted his family, but he would have to trust this strange woman who had yanked him back into the land of the living.

Ben wasn’t sure who he was anymore, but his heart told him to take her offer. Perhaps she was right about everything, or perhaps they’d both be dead in the end.

He wiped at his face, eliminating the evidence of his emotional outburst. “Truce.”

She squeezed his hand one last time before she released it. This time when they rode forward, his anxiety and tension had dissipated. No matter what happened, he had Grace beside him on the journey. For whatever reason, it comforted him. He would lay his demons to rest in the end, and for that, he would do anything.

*

Grace shifted in
the saddle for the thousandth time since she’d donned the cursed women’s clothing. She wasn’t uncomfortable because they fit, but because they fit so well, she didn’t feel right. Perhaps it was also because she hadn’t been near a dress or skirt for a year.

Or perhaps it was because she hadn’t felt like a woman for that entire time. Ben had spoken of dredging things to the surface. He’d succeeded in reminding her that she was, indeed, a female with needs and wants. She wasn’t immune to him. On the contrary, she was attracted to him.
Stupidly
attracted.

The feminine clothes, knowing he’d been the one to buy them and pick them out, made her fidget. That was the crux of the problem. She knew he’d touched all of them before they’d been on her body.

The ghost of his hands was now touching her.

Her thoughts kept straying back to the clothes, which in turn, led to thoughts of Ben. Grace had no illusions when she started this quest. She would never welcome a man into her bed or her heart. Now it appeared her body was pushing to break the first rule.

It couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t happen.

She’d made a vow a year ago to avenge her husband’s death and get her son back no matter what. She’d been willing to give up her life in exchange for Henry’s. Nothing about that vow had changed. However, she hadn’t vowed to never be intimate with a man again, but she never expected to. Her time with Alfred had included marital relations on occasion, enough to give her Henry, but it wasn’t anything she craved. Passion with a man hadn’t happened and if she were honest with herself, she didn’t think she was capable.

She’d been wrong.

Colliding with Ben and traveling beside him had set her world askew. She could not only feel passion, she nearly burned with it. Enough to make her so off-balance, she was distracted from her purpose. It was up to her to right it, no matter how she did it.

The day passed with excruciating quiet even if their pace was fast. Every moment she moved with the horse, she was too aware of her femininity. And his masculinity.

Damn it.

The sun was nearly set before Ben finally broke the silence. The sound of his deep voice startled her out of her miserable thoughts.

“We should stop for the night before it’s full dark.” He turned Paladin toward a copse of trees.

Unaccountably annoyed at his continued highhandedness, she contemplated riding on without him. It would serve him right for everything. And nothing. On the other hand, she’d made him stop their first night together without asking. The night everything had changed and his body had pressed against her.

Leaving him behind would be stupid and she knew it. With a peevishness she needed to shake, she followed him. He’d already unsaddled Paladin by the time she rode up. He worked with a natural grace that she couldn’t help but notice.

“You need help with Swift?”

She growled. “Haven’t needed it before now, won’t need it ever.” There was no reason for her to be so angry with him but she couldn’t seem to push aside the feeling. While she unsaddled the horse then wiped him down, her gut bubbled. Awash in confusion of her conflicted feelings, she wants to punch something.

Or someone.

“I’m going to wash up.” She loosely tied the horse’s reins to a bush and stomped off toward water she could hear burbling nearby.

Grace pushed through the brush to find a small creek and shallow pool. Relief coursed through her at the small oasis. She quickly shed her feminine fripperies and stepped down into the pool. The late summer day had been hot and the water was deliciously cool while the soft mud squished between her toes.

Small fish dart around her legs, tickling her skin. As she sank down into the water, she focused on the sounds of the forest, birds, squirrels, and a gentle breeze making the leaves dance above her. Her mind raced with emotions and she needed to yank it back from the edge.

She tried to push away the anger, the confusion and the frustration that swirled around her. In their place, grief and sadness pushed their way in. Grace was tired of fighting her feelings and being strong. For Henry and for herself.

Perhaps it was time to let herself lose control. If only for a few minutes.

Tears stung her eyes as she floated on her back, staring at the green canopy above her. A sound echoed in the air around her, one of a wounded animal in pain.

She realized the noise came from her, a sob from way down deep in her heart, where her ancient agony lived. Grace let go and allowed herself to weep for her loss, for her life, for her stolen future.

Her throat burned as the tears fell. She missed Alfred, the husband who was more her best friend. He’d died trying to save her and Henry. How would he feel about what she’d done to get their son back? Alfred had been a gentle soul who forgave a lot easier than his fiery-tempered wife.

Grace wasn’t perfect by any means. She had made enough mistakes to fill a canyon, but she had always tried to do what was right. Was forcing Ben to help her the right thing?

She didn’t know the answer, and right about then, she had never felt more alone. There was no one else in her life besides Henry and she didn’t know if he was still alive. Grace had nothing and nobody.

This was the bottom of a very deep well and she didn’t know how to climb her way out.

*

The sound of
weeping, of soul-wrenching grief, floated through the air and settled on Ben’s shoulders. Grace cried alone, somewhere in the small forest, while he listened. It was awkward and uncomfortable. And he damn sure wished he had an idea of what the hell to do.

They had to remain anonymous and make sure people don’t notice them. Instead she’d acted as though the blouse and skirt, which was to make her normal, made her stand out more. He’d have thought she was wearing clothes made from fire ants instead of an insanely soft material.

And now she was crying.

The tough-as-hell woman who shot his hat off his head had broken down. He wondered if he was to blame, the reason she’d lost control of her emotions. It couldn’t have been the skirt and blouse, could it? For a man with four sisters, he knew very little about women.

He wasn’t about to go see what she was about. No sir, that wasn’t something he would dare to do, for more than a few reasons. He watered the horses, kept busy tidying the clearing and gathering some brush to create a little comfort beneath their bedrolls.

When she finally returned, Ben’s mouth decided to take over his brain.

“No more arguing about clothes. We need to make better time tomorrow. We’ll need to ride harder. Whoever is chasing us might catch our scent any moment.” He could have slapped himself for being such an ass. What was wrong with him?

Instead of getting angry with him, she sat on a rock and propped her jaw on her hands and stared at him.

He frowned at her, wondering what could be going through her head. Her wet hair hung in dark blonde waves. In the dim twilight, her eyes were the darkest green, offsetting the color of the clothing.

“Why you?”

He frowned. “I don’t know what you mean?” The words tumbled from his mouth but something inside him knew.
Liar.