My Desperado (16 page)

There was a pause before, "No."

"Why not?" she asked persistently.

"Because I don't want to."

Katherine scowled, licked her wind-dried lips, and wrung her braid. "Have I told you yet that I'm a very curious person?"

"Have I told you yet to shut up?"

"I need to know what it is Ryland," she said, her tone becoming snooty with his offensive attitude. "I'm concerned now that I might truly have the disease. What are the symptoms?"

Travis turned slowly, his face barely visible in the darkness. "Lady," he said gently, "shut the hell up."

She didn't know why she started crying. But the fear the outlaws had caused suddenly seemed to bubble to the surface.

The forest was silent except for Katherine's sniffles. Travis lay stiffly in his blankets, trying not to listen to the soft sounds that came from Katherine's direction. Not far away an owl called, and another answered back. Travis tried to concentrate on the sounds of the midnight woods, but found he could not. He waited, nevertheless, remaining still and cursing himself for his weakness.

"Don't cry," he finally said, his tone harsher than he'd intended.

She sniffled softly then straightened her back. "I'm not."

Travis closed his eyes and tried not to smile, but he could not resist. Despite everything, she had backbone. "What are you doing then?"

"I'm cursing you under my breath."

"Really?"

"Yes. Goddamn it!" she railed, and then hiccupped.

He knew he should ignore her. But he couldn't, and suddenly he was behind her, pulling her wooden body against his. "Everything's all right. They're gone. You're safe."

"Through no fault of mine," she sniffled.

He smiled over the top of her head and, to his own utter amazement, felt himself begin to relax. "True," he said. "But I'm a hell of a man, huh?"

She didn't respond for a while, but spoke finally, her voice soft. "What would I have done if you hadn't been here?"

"Then you wouldn't have been here either, would you, lady?"

"But if I had been..." Her words trailed off.

"But I was. I was here. I'm still here." His smile turned to a scowl. She was soft as a globe of downy seeds under his hands. "Still here, lady."

Katherine relaxed a bit against his hard chest, drawing upon his strength, marveling at his composure, and wondering with sudden doubtfulness if he really would have let the outlaws take her—even if they hadn't mentioned the horse.

"Ryland." Her voice was soft and low-pitched. "I'm cold."

He remained still, waiting until the hammering passed from his heart. The pain that her softness caused. And then he shifted slightly, still keeping his arm around her as he urged her toward his bedroll.

They lay down together, neither mentioning propriety, and then he kissed her. Not passionately now, but gently, touching her cheek as he did so and drawing away soon after.

"You're a very beautiful lady," he said softly.

Katherine remained very still, feeling breathless. "I'm no lady," she reminded him, thinking of nothing better to say.

He shook his head. "You're the poorest liar I've ever met in my life."

Katherine considered apologizing then tried to be offended, and finally settled on a grin.

"Ryland?" She had let her hand slip to his back so that she could feel every shift and bulge of that muscular expanse.

"Why not call me Travis?" he asked evenly.

"All right." She touched her tongue to her upper lip, feeling self-conscious. "I'll call you Travis. Trav, for short."

Trav! Not since Rachel—not since innocence—had he been called Trav.

Ryland let the pain and worry rip through him before trying to free himself of it. "It'll be a helluva day tomorrow." He closed his eyes, and Katherine felt him draw away.

“Travis?"

"What?"

"Did I say something wrong?"

"Jesus," he responded, his eyes still closed, trying not to see the little girl in the sunflower yellow dress. "Go to sleep."

"Who used to call you Trav?" she asked softly.

God! The pain was right there! Undiminished after all these years. All the pain. All the bewilderment. All the fear! Right there for her to see.

"Don't go looking for good in me, lady. It ain't to be found."

Katherine waited, watching him, and then, because she couldn't help it, she touched his face, ever so gently, like the taste of a forbidden fruit. Her fingers shimmied over the stubble on his jaw, feeling the roughness that had scraped her face earlier. "They said there was no good in Prince either," she informed softly.

Travis knew that if he had a lick of sense he wouldn't ask. "Prince?" he intoned dryly.

"Stray dog." Katherine nodded. "He limped up to our house one summer night. He was supposed to be a tawny-gold color." Travis's hair was long, well past his collar, and could definitely be described as tawny-gold. She pushed a lock of it back now. "His fur was rather a sooty tan when I first saw him," she continued. "He was missing one eye. And he'd snarl if anyone came near."

"Prince," Travis repeated dully and opened his eyes.

"Yes." Katherine caught his gaze with her own and smiled directly into their brilliant turquoise depths. "Maybe I'll call you Prince."

"Jesus!" Travis said with an outraged snort, and turned away.

"Ryland," Katherine whispered, her throat constricted, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. "Ryland, I think I heard a sound."

The knife was in Travis's hand before she finished speaking, and though he remained lying down, she could feel that every muscle was tensed and every sense alert.

"Where?" He asked the question in a voice so deep and low she could barely hear him. Her own answer, however, was not even spoken. Raising a shaky hand she pointed toward her left. Ryland's right fist tightened around the knife handle as he raised his left index finger to his lips in a signal for silence.

Travis rose, stealthy as a cat, knife poised, silent on stockinged feet.

Katherine's breath had stopped. Fear made her want to reach out to snare Ryland back to her side. But she did not dare. And yet she refused to remain alone, and so she rose after him, her legs stiff and her stomach churning.

He turned at the sound of her rising then motioned subtly for her to stay. Katherine shook her head. The movement was just barely visible in the darkness. Ryland scowled, motioned again.

She shook her head.

He gritted his teeth, swore in silence, and reaching out, he pulled her close behind him.

Katherine scrunched up to his rear, feeling the heat of his body, the tension of his form. And so they sidled forward, slipping to the nearest boulder to flatten there, listening. She shadowed his every action. Moving only when he moved, breathing when he breathed.

No unusual sound met their ears. They waited a moment longer then slid a silent step forward. Nothing. Another step. The curved edge of the boulder neared. One more step and...

Katherine's scream pierced the night.

Ryland's knife hand flashed upward.

And Soldier, scared witless, tossed his big head above the boulder's top and reared.

"Damn!" Travis swore, lowering the knife and leaning heavily against the rock. "Damn it, lady. You nearly made me stab my own horse!"

She was crouched behind him, but managed now to peek over one bulky shoulder. "Your horse?" she squeaked.

Ryland did not answer her, but reached up to soothe the stallion.

Katherine, however, was still in no mood to be left behind, and clung to his arm like a blood-sucking leach.

Soldier backed away, looking offended.

"Damn it, woman, let go," Ryland ordered.

Katherine shook her head spasmodically, causing Travis to turn slightly, looking down at her as she clung to his sleeve.

"There ain't nothing out there."

"How do you know?" Katherine whispered, her eyes not leaving the shadows beyond the boulders.

"I know," he assured.

"How?" she questioned.

"I just do."

"How?" she asked again, louder now, and straightening as curiosity about his certainty overcame her fear.

"Just do."

"But—"

"My ribs don't hurt! All right?" Travis stormed. "They don't hurt."

Yanking his arm from her grip, he stepped toward the horse.

"Your ribs?" Katherine remained where she was, watching as Soldier finally came forward to accept Ryland's rough pats and rumbled assurances.

"What have your ribs got to do with anything?"

"Forget it, lady," Travis ordered.

"Is it a kind of premonition?"

"No!" Travis spat, to which Soldier tossed his head, making his master lower his voice again. "No. It's not some damned premonition. It's a couple of pellets scraping against my bones."

"But I should think—"

Travis turned suddenly, his entire being tense, his brows lowered in fatigued anger. "I don't give a good goddamn what you think, lady. Just believe me when I say I ain't the kind to die in my sleep." With that he strode back to his bedroll.

Katherine remained as she was, Ryland lied down, and Soldier shuffled a few steps closer to reach his nose tentatively toward Katherine.

She wet her lips, still made nervous by the large horse, but she managed to reach out to fondle one long ear. He tilted his head, enjoying the caress.

Standing there in the darkness, scratching the stallion's drooping ear, Katherine realized her foolishness. He was not a frightening animal. And yet she'd been scared nearly out of her wits. She straightened her back slightly, thinking. She'd made a spectacle of herself—wakening Ryland, clinging to his arm, screaming in poor Soldier's face.

But she wasn't used to this kind of life. She wasn't accustomed to being scared, cold, hungry, and dead tired—and she didn't particularly care for it. And if she wanted to live through the experience, something was going to have to change.

Patting Soldier's neck with finality, Katherine found her braid with both hands and marched off to Travis's bedroll.

"Mr. Ryland."

He didn't answer.

"Mr. Ryland." She knelt now, causing the large shirt to droop over the pale satin gown as she touched his arm. "I need to talk."

He didn't moan or speak. He only covered his eyes with one hand, hoping she was yet another nightmare.

"Travis..." Katherine sat back on her heels, knowing she had gotten his attention. "You must teach me how to throw a knife."

Try as he might, Travis couldn't ignore her. He couldn't ignore her and he couldn't drown her.

"What?" he asked dubiously, rolling to his back slowly.

Katherine wet her lips, feeling a bit more self-conscious now that he was looking at her. "I need to learn how to handle a knife—like you do."

He didn't speak—just stared at her.

"Well, I mean. Look at the situation. I'm a wanted woman. But I'm..." She waved a wild hand. "I'm innocent. And yet I must fear for my life every moment. And you..." She leaned forward suddenly, so that her face was less than a full twelve inches from his. "You are so... capable." She nearly whispered the word then shivered, remembering. "I need to learn to protect myself."

From behind her Soldier snorted. Travis's eyes did not shift from Katherine's face. His body did not move. "I'm only going to say this once, lady, so listen good," he said with finality. "I'll be dead and damned before I ever—ever—put a knife into the hands of a woman!"

Chapter 16

"It ain't gonna bite you, lady." Striding up behind Katherine, Travis gripped her hand that held his knife. "You're holding it like it’s a coiled rattler. You gotta tighten your fist and jab."

He did so now, bearing her hand along as they stabbed the smooth bark of an innocent aspen. "You stab. Yank. Then stab again. Before he's got a chance to get you."

Katherine was trying hard to concentrate, but Travis was standing too close, making it hard to remember everything he said. She chanced a glance over her shoulder at him. "I was thinking more of learning how to throw the weapon."

Damn, her eyes were big. Cool, entrancing blue, and fathomless as the very heavens. He'd been a fool to agree to try to teach her to use a knife, of course. She was a woman, after all, and women couldn't fight. And yet, it was that very fact that had made him choose his present course.

It had been one hell of a night. Tired as he was, he'd not slept after the Soldier scare. Instead, he'd lain awake, staring into the darkness, listening until he knew she was asleep. Then he'd turned to watch her.

Innocence was written all over her face, and it had made him ache to touch her. But he had not. Instead, he had struggled with what to do. Teach me to throw a knife, she had said. Ridiculous. She was too soft, too young, too lovely.

But were they not the perfect reasons to teach her some kind of self-defense?

"You can't learn to throw it till you learn to jab," he said, trying to draw himself from her eyes.

She blinked, feeling her heart beat hard against her ribs. "But I couldn't stab someone."

He raised a brow at her. "But you could throw a knife at him?"

"Well, it would seem less—personal," she explained.

He watched her for a second longer, then shook his head slowly and murmured, "Damnedest whore I've ever met."

They were so near. Katherine could feel his hard shoulder pressed against her back. She licked her lips, knowing her face was pink, if not from the sun, surely from his proximity. "I wish you wouldn't call me that."

"What?" His hand still held hers.

"A..." She paused, trying to catch her breath. "A..."

"Whore?" he supplied softly.

"Yes."

"Why?"

She blinked, wondering if she was forgetting to breathe again. "Because it makes me feel rather..."

He waited.

She failed to finish.

"Like a whore?" he supplied.

She nodded.

He grinned slowly, as if he'd made a point. "You said you was one. Remember?"

Katherine scowled slightly, thinking hard. "Well, yes. But that doesn't mean I like to be called that."

"Why don't you tell me the truth?"