My Desperado (14 page)

Silence.

"I don't mean to find fault, lady," Ryland said finally, "but maybe you're in the wrong business if you ain't figured out what I want yet."

She swallowed, realizing she had gotten herself in too deep this time. "I can't," she whispered weakly.

He stared at her. "Beg your pardon."

"I said," she cleared her throat, praying for strength. "I just can't."

"Can't what?"

"Can't... You know!"

He shook his head as if puzzled, but finally he said, "Oh," and nodded. "That. No, of course you couldn't. Too expensive. But then my blankets are quite precious, too. Notice the texture." He actually lifted the upper edge to smooth it over his whisker-roughened cheek. "Soft. Warm. And look at this here stripe. It don't look like much in the dark. But you should see it in the daytime. It's right pretty. Bright red. Like a shining apple. I've often said to myself, Travis, that's the prettiest damn stripe I've ever—"

"Ryland!" Katherine grasped him by the shirtfront. Her knuckles were pressed up against his chest, and her face was mere inches from his. "I don't give a spit about that stinking stripe. I'm hungry. I'm exhausted. I'm scared. And I'm cold. So give me that stupid blanket or..."

His head was slightly tilted. His brows were raised. "Or what?"

She searched for a likely threat, but the truth was, she'd flat run out of spunk. "Just give me the blanket," she pleaded.

"Now, lady," he chided gently. "You was doing so good there for a spell. All fired up like."

"I think I'm freezing to death." She nodded numbly quite sure it was true, and fully able to imagine her blue body being delivered to her mother without so much as Ryland's cherished striped blanket to cover her deadness.

He chuckled, because he couldn't help it and because she looked so damned pathetic. "You ain't going to freeze to death, Katherine Amelia Simmons," he assured her.

"I'm not?" she whispered.

"No. I think you're going to survive everything. You got yourself quite a grip there."

She let her hand fall away from his shirt, suddenly self-conscious about how she had gripped it. "I'm sorry."

He chuckled again. “Truth is, lady, if you're gonna threaten someone, it's generally more effective if you don't go around apologizing all the time."

"I'm sorry," she repeated dejectedly.

He shook his head. "Damn. I ain't never seen a woman like you. You really a dove?"

Katherine managed a nod.

"But you ain't going to..." He stared at her face. It was awful pale, so he narrowed his eyes and softened his language. "You ain't going to...lay with me?"

He waited for an answer, but she merely stared at him, eyes wide, and he relented finally.

"Listen, lady. Don't bother saying anything. By the time you spoke up, there wouldn't be no time left anyhow. So how 'bout a kiss and I'll share my blankets."

"One kiss?" she questioned, her eyes shining like wide pools in the darkness.

"Are you willing to do more?"

"More?"

"Never mind. Yeah. One kiss. But not no stingy bird peck. A real kiss. Are you game?"

The silence was heavy and long before she finally answered.

"Yes."

They stared at each other, eyeball-to-eyeball, before he lifted the blankets from his body in an open invitation. "Come on in."

"But we agreed to just a kiss."

"One kiss, lady," he said huskily. "And since I have the pretty striped blanket, I choose the place. You're cold. I'm comfortable. Come here."

She did, shifting closer until he had scooped the blankets around her sun-pinkened back.

They remained immobile, staring into each other's eyes, Ryland's cool and blue, Katherine's wide and nervous.

"Now what? she asked.

"Lay down."

She licked her lips. "Lie down?"

"I ain't gonna eat you up," he said gently. "Lay down."

He must have found the only soft place in the whole of the Rocky Mountains to sleep, Katherine thought, for as her back touched the bottom blanket she could not help but notice the cushiony feel of leaves beneath her.

Travis eased down beside her, pulling the blankets up over her bare arms and shifting on his side to watch her.

"Nervous?" he asked quietly.

"No," she lied then realized her usually husky voice had squeaked. So she cleared her throat and tried again. "No," she said more evenly. "I do this sort of thing all the time."

He propped himself up on his left elbow and grinned into her face.

He had a good face Katherine admitted in silence. Deep-set eyes, blue as a mountain lake in the daylight. His mouth was generous and tilted upward at the corners now. His bone structure was broad, across his brow, his cheeks and his jaw. Broad and lean with the whisker-stubbled skin stretched tight over his square chin.

"So..." He raised his brows at her. "How do you usually begin?"

"Begin?" She winced as her voice cracked again. "Begin?"

"Kissing."

"Oh. Yes." Dear Lord. She was going to die. "Of course. Kiss... Kissing."

"Do you prefer the bottom or top?"

"Bottom of what?"

He shook his head. "It ain't no mystery why you ain't got a lot of ready cash, lady. How long you been in this line of work?"

"Oh..." She found her braid and gripped it now with frantic fingers. "About three days."

Ryland raised his brows again. It was the first answer with a shred of credibility to it. “Then maybe I'd best get things rolling."

She opened her mouth to disagree, but before a sound emerged, his lips touched hers.

They were firm lips, and warm. They slanted across hers like living flame, moving, caressing, urging.

His hand had settled on her waist. His chest pressed against hers, and his right thigh, heavy with taut muscle, lay with solid familiarity across her knees.

But it was his lips and tongue that took her breath away. They skimmed and tantalized and teased, or pressed and nibbled and urged, until Katherine found her arms clasped about his broad body, with her heart thundering against his and her lips answering each parry of their own accord.

Who would have thought a kiss could feel like this—could make her forget her fatigue, her discomfort, even her hunger. Or was her ravenous appetite simply replaced by a different hunger?

He had promised not to consume her, but in truth she felt as if she might be the one to devour him, for every nerve ending in her trembling body was screaming for release. What kind of release, she didn't know, but she'd best listen or explode.

His kiss slipped away as he lightly touched her cheek with his lips, and moved down her neck! She arched against him, aching. He took a detour, lifting his hand from her waist to stroke the hair from her throat and follow his fingertips with his kisses, up her tingling flesh to her ear.

"Oh!" She said the word on a gasp, feeling she would surely explode if he did not stop and refusing to consider what she would do if he did.

He kissed her again—just behind her ear—and she shivered, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to calm her breathing. But it was no use for already he had returned to her lips.

She kissed back, forgetting about the cold, poor dead Patterson, and the damned pretty striped blanket. Katherine was simply feeling.

It was Ryland who finally pulled away.

Her arms were clasped about his back, and her breath was sounding like a freight train going uphill.

Their gazes caught, hard and bright.

“So," she rasped without thought."How long have you been doing this sort of thing?"

He grinned, white teeth showing in the darkness. "What'll you give me for more?"

"I've got a little establishment in Silver Ridge," she said.

He touched her cheek with gentle, callused fingertips. "Not interested."

"A new satin gown?" she bartered breathlessly. "Only worn twice."

"Now you're talking."

"But..." She licked her lips, knowing she'd fallen over the edge and finding she did not care. "What would I wear?" she whispered.

Travis felt as if someone had hit him in the chest with something hard and broad, for just the sight of her teasing him was enough to make his heart ache. "I can only imagine," he murmured.

"I can't," she whispered in return.

He raised his brows.

"I can't imagine what it would be like."

Stark honesty shone in her silver-blue eyes, and the ache in Ryland's chest turned to a burn. He was falling under the spell of her eyes, going beyond the understandable and acceptable lust to a deeper more dangerous level.

But he could not afford that price. He pressed back a fraction of an inch more, employing all his strength. "I guess the debt's been paid."

His tone had changed, but she didn't notice, for the thrill of his nearness was having adverse effects on her ability to think.

She licked her lips, staring into his face. "Now I'm... curious," she whispered. "It's been a fault of mine." Her breathing was shallow and quick. "Ever since I was a little girl. Always wondering why or how or what if."

He could imagine her as a little girl. Long dark hair. Bubbling laughter. A book perched on her knees, reading to her little brother. But she had no little brother, and the boy he saw in his imagination was himself, curled against his sister's side like a trusting puppy.

"Here." He peeled the blankets quickly away, his movements suddenly stiff. "Take the blankets."

She blinked at his abrupt change, confused and suddenly lonely. "Did I do something wrong?"

Travis held his breath, staring at her. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why?"

"Because I can't afford the price," he said, and knew it was true. He couldn't afford the heartache, the nightmares. "Gonna be a hard day tomorrow. Go get some sleep."

She grimaced, still holding him to her. "But the blanket's so pretty. I feel I owe you... more." She leaned closer, touching her lips to his again.

Ryland fought the desire—and lost.

She was kissing him, her body so near, her arms tight about him. There was nothing he could do but growl low in his throat and press her back into his blankets. "We hate to disturb you folks."

A voice spoke from less than twelve feet away. A rifle cocked, the sound cold and deadly in the darkness. "But we been looking for you half the night."

Chapter 14

It was his ribs that ached, Travis realized abruptly. It was his ribs. Not his chest.

Goddamn it! He'd been careless. He'd let Katherine's seductive beauty distract him. The fire had been left burning too long, and these men had found them. And now he would pay. Or more accurately—they would pay.

Moving slowly, he pushed himself to a sitting position. Beside him Katherine pressed the collar of his worn shirt close to her throat, as if the strangers could see her low neckline even through the borrowed garment.

Travis could hear her breathing, could feel her fear.

And it was his fault. His fault for allowing himself to fall under her spell, to be lulled out of his usual cautiousness.

"What do you want?" he asked now, his voice low as his mind rushed to accumulate answers. How many were there? How well armed? How dangerous?

"Well now..." The closest man was little more than a gangly, just grown boy, and spoke in a thoughtful tone. "I guess that depends on what you got, mister. Huh, Luke?"

From behind Travis, Luke shuffled his feet and proclaimed, "Yeah," in a voice too high pitched to deny his nervousness.

"And seeing how much time we spent a trackin' you, we'd best get somethin' pretty good outta it. Huh, Luke?"

"Yeah." Feet shuffled again.

"We didn't do it!" Katherine said abruptly, her face pale in the darkness. "We didn't."

"You didn't?" Travis could sense the man's surprise at her statement. But their assailant rallied quickly enough. "Well, now, that's nice to know." He tilted his head a bit, his face well shadowed by his hat as he seemed to think for a moment. "But why should we believe you when you two are hid up here like a couple of rats?"

"Because we—"

"Lady!" Travis's voice was low but unmistakably sharp. "Shut your mouth."

She did so with a snap, not because he'd told her to, but because she knew that she was out of her element, drowning in confusion and fear, while Ryland seemed perfectly suited for the situation, calm even.

"Yeah?" the man with the rifle urged, stepping closer. "What was you saying, ma'am?"

But Katherine had now clapped her bottom lip between her teeth and refused to speak.

"I asked what you boys want?" reminded Ryland with quiet coolness.

"And I'll tell ya, since it ain't no big surprise," said the man, who then laughed at his own wit. "We're outlaws." He said the words with a certain amount of unmistakable pride. "I'm Jacob. That there's Luke," he introduced, with surprising courtesy for an outlaw. "And we want money."

"I'm afraid you came to the wrong place," said Travis.

"Yeah?" Luke shuffled his feet, issuing the only word he seemed to recall.

"Well, we'll be the judge of that," proclaimed the other. "Hand it over."

"I'm telling you, friend," said Travis in a fatherly voice, "it ain't worth your trouble. You'd be wise to head on down the mountain. Find yourself better pickings."

"I ain't your friend," Jacob said, taking another step closer. "And I'll do the deciding 'bout what's wise and what ain't. Now hand over your money!"

Tension filled the campsite, but Travis shrugged finally, seeming resigned. "Go ahead, lady, give him the coins."

"No." There was not a moment's delay before Katherine's refusal. "I won't."

Travis narrowed his eyes at her. But she missed his threatening expression as she stared imperiously at the man with the rifle.

"It's my money. I earned it by the sweat of my brow."

"Sweat of your..." Travis repeated in muttered disbelief, remembering her husky, seductive voice as she sang to a horde of randy men while he sawed at the bonds she had placed on his arms. "Huh!"

"I did," she said defensively. "I earned it. It's all I've got. And I'm not going to give it up to"—she nodded abruptly toward the rifleman, though her gaze remained on Ryland—"a couple of underaged brigands!"