Ride The Wild Wind (Time Travel Historical Romance) (16 page)

“Hey, I’m cold!” She grabbed hold of the edge and jerked it back.

“You don’t need the blanket.”

When he reached for the buttons on her dress, she slapped his hands
away. “Excuse me, but what are you doing? Hands off!”

“Your clothes are bloody and if my instincts serve me correctly, there
isn’t a stream within ten or fifteen miles of us. Your dress must be burned. So
will my shirt now that it is soiled with your blood. Otherwise, animals will
come in the night.”

“You’re going to burn my clothes?
Helloooooo
. Have you forgotten?
I don’t have anything else to wear.”

He rummaged through his leather bag, then stood and tossed a clean shirt
to her. “Remove everything that is soiled. You will wear my clean shirt once
you’re bathed.”

Reluctantly, Halle accepted the garment. Wait. Had he said
bathed
?
She glanced over at the small pot of water warming on the coals. Oh, no….Surely
he didn’t expect her to take a bath in that teeny little pan of water?

She tried not to stare at his washboard abs, or his cute innie navel
that was dusted with dark whorls of hair, or anything else about him that
screamed raw masculinity. But she couldn’t help herself. Every inch of his body
was beautiful, sleek and sculpted like a bronzed statue.

She had the sudden urge to touch him, to smooth her palms over his
rippled, muscular  chest and broad shoulders. For a moment she even
imagined crushing her naked body to his, sliding her hands down his back,
grasping his firm buttocks and squeezing.

He returned to her side and knelt down. “You must stay awake a while.”
He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes.

At the simple contact Halle felt a flutter in her tummy. Her nipples
also tightened in response. There was nothing in the gentle expression in his
eyes to suggest the gesture had been sexual. But being touched by him was a
nice sensation, sort of warm and tingly. She wished he’d do it again.

Uh, oh.
She squeezed her thighs together. Something was going on
down south again.

This was insane. She’d never been attracted to bad boy types. On the
other hand, the bad boys in college never looked like
this
one.

“I’m not in any pain,” she fibbed, keeping a straight face. Actually,
her knee throbbed like hell.

“You took one hell of a fall, Miss Brannigan. I know there is pain.”

“Really, there isn’t.”

 He leaned in closer. “What are you trying to prove? That you are
brave?”

“I’m not trying to prove anything.” But she did want her sex-deprived
body to quit responding to him. And it wouldn’t hurt if he’d stop looking at
her with those seductive gray eyes either.

“Then allow me to attend your injuries.”

“I don’t need you to ‘attend’ them. So scoot, okay?”

He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek again and she sucked
in a breath. His hand was warm. Tender.
A lover’s touch
.

“Does it wound your pride to admit you are vulnerable?”

Vulnerable? She scoffed at his words. That was a hell of a word coming from
this nineteenth century outlaw’s mouth. “Well if it isn’t Dr. Freud of the
West. Look…just leave me alone, okay?”

Being alone wasn’t a bad thing. She’d been alone most of her life and
certainly never depended upon anyone. Growing up in crowded foster homes, she
preferred solitude. She never fit in and didn’t make friends easily. What was
the point in trying to cultivate relationships when you were in one place one
week, then uprooted and hauled to another where no one really wanted you? The
world was a cruel place she’d learned at an early age, and people only hurt you
if you let them get close enough.

But why was Whitehorse looking at her as if he pitied her? He didn’t
give a damn if she hurt. No one ever had. “Look, I said I don’t need you. Now
stop staring at me like I’m some pathetic basket case and leave me alone.”

He did leave then.

With a groan of pain, she rolled onto her side, putting her back to him.
What did this criminal know about her life anyway? Nothing. So he thought
she
w
as vulnerable? Ha! Not in the least. If anything, she had guts of steel.
She’d survived fifteen years of being shoved back and forth between foster
families who wouldn’t adopt her for one reason or another. And she’d made it
fine on her own the past few years with no help from anyone.

This man had probably lied, stolen, and cheated all his life. He
probably never worked an honest day either—never truly cared for another human
being. A criminal like him took what he wanted and wanted for nothing. No,
Whitehorse didn’t have a clue what it was like to have to scratch and claw and
fight for everything you had. So how dare he call her vulnerable.

Halle toyed with the buttons on his borrowed shirt. Surely he didn’t
expect her to traipse through the desert in nothing but this? She closed her
eyes growled in frustration. Oh God, when would this nightmare end?

And gee thanks, Stella for not checking in these past three months.
“I’ll be there when you need me.” What a load.

“I’m warming a pan of water to cleanse your wounds,” he called from
across the way. “Get undressed.”

She looked down at the front of her clothing. Her dress was streaked
with bright blood from the nosebleed. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and
managed to maneuver out of her clothes This was insane. How was she to bathe in
that itty bitty pan of water? Well, if nothing it would at least be warm. She
reached up and scratched her scalp violently. God, she must have an acre of
dirt in her hair. As soon as she reached a civilized town she’d find a bathtub
and take up residence in it for a week.

Max licked at her cheek and she patted his bony little head. “I’m okay,
boy. Really. Just a bump and a bruise.”

Despite the fact that she was dirty and itchy, the blanket was warm and comforting
and she began to feel like crap for bawling him out. After all, he had given
her his only shirt and he would be cold tonight. Maybe he was only trying to
help. Or maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy when he wasn’t busy being an outlaw.

He came back and knelt beside her. “Can you roll onto your back?”

She winced in pain, but managed to turn. “Leave the water.” She
dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Go on now. Shoo. I’ll get around to it
in a minute.”

She watched him dip a cloth into the pan and wring it out. What was he
doing?

“Turn your face more to the firelight.”

She blinked. “Um…you are so not going to wash my face.”

“Be silent, Miss Brannigan. It will not be the first time.” He sponged
the rag across her forehead, despite her protest.

He was not going to do this. He was not. “You’re not going to bathe me.”

“Oh, but I am.” A naughty twinkle lit up his eyes. “Every inch.”

“Over my dead body!”

He frowned. “Be quiet and turn your face toward the light. You protest
too much.”

The idea of having him wash her face—or any other part of her body— was
extremely unsettling. But Halle turned toward the warmth of soft, flickering
firelight as he commanded and he began to gently sponge her cheeks and chin
before moving over her jaw.

He took her nose between his thumb and forefinger and wiggled it. She
jerked away, not out of pain but because it tickled.

“Your nose does not appear to be broken and there is only a small bruise
on your cheek,” he remarked. “You were fortunate not to have broken your neck.”

Halle clutched the blanket, refusing to relinquish it when he tugged at
it.

“I must see how badly you are injured.”

Her heart thundered wildly in her chest but it wasn’t only because she
was naked beneath the blanket. In the past three days he’d already seen most
everything there was to see. No, his nearness was having that same disturbing
affect on her again.

She stared at his mouth for a moment, a full-lipped, sensuous mouth. He
was the only guy she ever kissed. The only one she ever wanted to touch her. 
Her eyes drifted down to the smooth skin on his bare chest, to his dark nipples
and areolas that resembled melted chocolate candy kisses. She had to urge to
touch her tongue to the tiny, erect beads to see what they tasted like.

Her heart fluttered in her chest in response to the thought. She
recalled how he’d looked in the river, naked, beautiful, the sun glistening off
his sun-bronzed body. She’d been pissed that he’d dragged her away from Elena’s
and into frightening and unfamiliar territory. Yet now, she could never imagine
being angry with him. She let her imagination wander.

In her fantasy, they were both naked, making love at the water’s edge.
It was like a scene out of
From Here to Eternity
, but with a western
twist. There were no foaming waves crashing over them as they made love on the
shore, just red muddy water lapping at their feet, and a noisy horse snorting
and guzzling nearby.

She tore her gaze from him, her face burning, her body thrumming from
his nearness. She had no business getting the hots for him. Besides, what did
she know about men and sex, other than what she’d read in books or heard from
Elena’s ladies?

He tugged insistently on the blanket again and she fought to preserve
modesty.

“Do not fight me.” His voice was so smooth a tingle ran up her spine.
“You are injured and unable to properly care for yourself. Allow me to help.”

“But I’m not wearing any clothes.”

“I have seen you naked.  Now remove the blanket.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Realizing there was no point in arguing, Halle relaxed her grip. She
shivered as he drew the blanket down, her heart pounding as his gaze dipped to
her breasts. She searched for something in his expression, anything that hinted
he’d discovered her naughty secret, but his face remained stony and remote,
giving away nothing. She couldn’t even tell if he found her attractive or not.

She turned her face, wincing as large, warm hands encircled her rib
cage. She wouldn’t look at him, not when he was so close, touching her, making
her feel things she didn’t want to feel. He examined her arms carefully, then
each individual finger. He lifted her knee a bit to examine the scrape.

“You have reinjured yourself in the same spot I stitched three months
ago,” he remarked.

Halle dared to look, wincing at the bloody mess. She
had
scraped
her knee on the now healed scar.

“Not to worry. It is merely a scrape and appears much worse than it is.”
He covered the top half of her with the blanket, leaving only her injured knee
exposed. “Are you certain you are not hurt elsewhere?”

“No, I’m fine.”

This man was a paradox—kind and gentle one moment, insensitive and
terrifying the next. But one thing she did know, despite his criminal behavior
he was a decent guy on the inside. He hadn’t ogled her when he examined her and
he was tender now as he bathed the blood from her knee. It didn’t even hurt.

     “You’d make a good doctor,” she commented.

     He flinched, his startled eyes pinning hers.
What had she said to trigger this response? He returned to cleaning the wound,
but she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she’d said something wrong.

Once he finished, he wrapped her knee with a strip of clean fabric from
the sleeve of her dress and left her alone with Max.

Halle donned his oversized shirt, then stood with much difficulty.
Falling knee-length, the garment billowed out like an army tent, the sleeves
hanging way past her fingertips. She frowned and rolled them up.

Seated a few feet away, Whitehorse motioned for her to come.

He draped the blanket around her shoulders once she made herself
comfortable beside him.

 “When we reach my family’s camp in a few days I will find proper
clothing for you. I’ll ask my cousin, Tani
to make a warm dress.”

This was the first he’d spoken of family. Wait. Her mind screeched to a
halt. Why was he taking her to meet them when he said he said he intended to
return her to Frank Cole? And what kind of name was Tani
?
She was about
to ask when he spoke first.

“You must tell me everything you know about Frank Cole.”

Halle bit down on her lip and glanced away. If she told him Frank Cole
murdered Hope Brannigan, her look alike, this would present a whole new set of
problems. She’d have to tell him who she really was, Halle Brooks from the
twenty first century, not Hope Brannigan, the murdered woman. He would never
believe her wild story of time travel from the future.

She felt his eyes on her. Was it the warmth from the fire making her
cheeks burn, or his nearness? He hooked a finger beneath her chin and turned
her face back to his.

“When I found you in the canyon three months ago, I assumed you were too
frightened to speak of what happened to you. You claim that Cole isn’t your
uncle.”

“No. He’s not a relative.”

“But he is searching for you?”

She nodded.

“Why?” His expression softened. “Tell me.”

She wished she knew where this line of questioning was going. Could she
trust him? She doubted so. He was an outlaw—an opportunist. He was no different
from Elena Costanza in many respects. And if Frank Cole knew Whitehorse was a
wanted man, too, he’d have both their heads. She must convince him that sending
her into Frank Cole’s clutches wasn’t in either
of their best interests.

She decided to reveal a teeny bit more. “Look, I’m going to level with
you, okay?” She gazed deep into his eyes.” Frank Cole will kill me. Sure, he’ll
pay the reward if he still has any money left, but he will kill me.”

“Why?”

Halle hesitated. She would only tell him part of the story as she knew it.
“He murdered someone and I know and now he wants to silence me.” That was only
half the truth. She and Molly had extracted five hundred dollars from Cole’s
sorry ass, and had recently mailed another letter requesting more in exchange
for their continued silence. But she couldn’t tell Whitehorse that. He’d want
to know where the money was, and he’d already taken the two hundred fifty
dollars in her money pouch.

Without warning he gently cupped her cheek in one warm palm and leaned
in. Instinctively she knew he was going to kiss her. She tensed and started to
protest, but when he brushed her lower lip softly with his thumb pad, coherent
words and thoughts were forever lost. He moved in close, so close she could
smell his breath mingling with hers, feel the tremble of his thigh against hers
as his mouth lowered to hers. She couldn’t bear to look into his eyes, knowing
what she would find mirrored there.

Desire.

“Am I hurting you?” His thumb stroked lazily along her jawline.

She shivered. “N-no.” It was true. Whatever he was doing to her now was
making her feel a whole lot better
. Oh, yeah. Much better.

“And your knee?”

“No pain.”

“Good,” he whispered against her mouth, brushing his lips sensuously,
teasingly across hers.  His tongue tickled, startling her. She pulled
back.

“No, don’t fight it.” He cupped her chin in his hand and leaned close
again. “Besides, we have done this once before. Now I want to kiss you
properly
.”

The husky tone of his voice held both a warning and a promise. Warmth
crept over her face and throat, then radiated to her breasts and all regions
south of her navel. And in that moment she did want him to kiss her …properly…
improperly
.
Hell, she wasn’t picky as long as he made it the best kiss of her life.

She stared at his full, sensual mouth, only inches from her own, her
heart pounding so hard in her chest she was certain he could hear it. Then he
lowered his lips to hers.  

Halle froze, pressed her palms to his chest. “Wait.” He pulled back,
confusion etching his face. “I just realized something. I don’t know your first
name.”

“Is it important?” Frustration laced his voice.

“It is for me. If I’m going to kiss you again, I want to know who you
are.”

“Antonio.”

He brushed his lips across hers again in the barest of touches, the
pressure increasing slightly. His warm mouth moved back and forth in a
caressing motion, setting off fireworks throughout her body. Halle arched
toward him, a tiny whimpering sound rising up from her throat.

She wanted to know this experience well, to remember the way Antonio
Whitehorse
tasted, the smell of his skin up close. The way his touch
made her body respond. More than that, she wanted this experience with
him
—the
bad boy of her wildest fantasies.

His gentle hand slipped behind her head. “Open slightly for me.”

Her lips parted and his mouth settled firmly, possessively upon hers.
His tongue swept past her teeth and thrust repeatedly inside. Shocked, she
froze for a moment but continued to let him do whatever it was that was making
her feel really, really good.  At some point she became aware she was
returning the kiss, meeting each thrust of his seeking tongue. She also
realized his hands no longer held her face, that his fingers were urgently
working open the buttons on his borrowed shirt.

She wasn’t so naïve she didn’t realize where all this was leading.
Should she stop him now while she still could? Or should she see this through
and find out what sex would be like?

She broke the kiss. “Antonio?”

His breath was harsh against her cheek. “Yes?” His hand dropped away
from the shirt.

“Would it be all right if we slowed down a bit? I need to…catch my
breath.”

He was silent a moment and she worried she’d spoiled the moment.

“Shall I stop?”

No. She wanted him to keep kissing her. She wanted him to touch her breasts—maybe
even more. But she
was
afraid. Afraid to go forward. Afraid to find out
she might be falling in love with him.

His hand lifted to her cheek. “Tell me what you want.” His voice was a
sensual whisper.

Halle really didn’t know what she wanted, except she didn’t want it to
end. “I don’t want you to stop.” The words came out in a rush of breath,

“Kissing you?”

“Anything.”

She watched as Antonio set Max away from them, and covered him with a blanket.
He returned to her on his knees and worked open the shirt’s buttons. She
shivered as he eased it over one shoulder, then the other. The cool night
breeze washed over her bared skin and he bent to kiss the side of her neck. His
teeth grazed her flesh and she cried out softly, lolled her head to the side.

He dusted a trail of kisses from the side of her throat and then along
her jaw line, returning to her mouth. She trembled as he pulled back, then
reached between them and drew the garment down. His smoky gaze lowered to her
breasts.

“You are a very beautiful woman.” His eyes caressed her.

Beautiful?
She wasn’t beautiful and she damned well knew it. She
was butt ass ugly with tiny breasts that barely filled a B-cup. No, either
Whitehorse was severely farsighted, or he wasn’t particular in his choice of
women. Maybe all he wanted was a quickie in the desert—a one night
lust in
the dust
session and any woman would do in a pinch. Well, horny or not,
Halle Naomi Brooks wasn’t about to become another notch on the outlaw’s gun
belt
.

She pulled the shirt closed. His hand came up and covered hers as if to
question her reaction, but she shook her head. The magic was gone and suddenly,
this didn’t feel right anymore. Weren’t there sweet words lovers whispered to
one another first?

“Why do you cover yourself? You said you did not want me to stop.”

And she didn’t want him to stop. But as much as she wanted to know this
experience with him, to know the feeling of being cherished for a few moments,
she wouldn’t allow herself to be used simply because she was convenient. He’d
been Elena’s lover for a long time and would probably return to her bed one
day. The last thing she needed was to have her heart broken the first time out
of the gate.

She shrugged and turned her face away. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Then I apologize, too,” he said curtly and quickly moved away. He
snatched a pile of brush and tossed it onto the dying fire. “It was not my
intention to shame you.”

Shame her? What was he talking about? She wasn’t ashamed of a little old
kiss, or even that he’d touched her breasts. But a man wouldn’t say that to a
woman if he were only out to use her, would he? Had she misinterpreted his
intentions?

“Antonio?”

He stood a few feet away now, but did not look at her. “Yes?”

“Why did you say I was pretty?”

At that, he turned around. “I did not say you were pretty. I said you
were
beautiful
.”

Halle’s throat constricted. How could he lie so easily? She almost
believed him. “But I’m not. I’m ugly. I’ve always been ugly.”

“Who in the hell told you that?” He turned and walked toward her. He was
wild looking by firelight, his sun-streaked hair wind-whipped and backlit by
the orange glow. She dared a glance up at his dark, powerful form.

“Who?” he demanded. His face was hard. Angry.

The kids at the group home,
she almost said. She’d been placed
with foster parents when she first arrived, but as she grew older she’d been
shuffled back and forth between homes. Kevin, one of the older teens told her
his idea of why she hadn’t been adopted sooner. She wasn’t white—well, not
white enough anyway. Blue eyed and blonde children always went first. Everybody
knew that, right?

True or not, Halle’d never forgotten Kevin’s cruel words.

She saved her allowance and bought a hair bleaching kit, but the darker
pigments of her hair remained red even after two treatments. Her foster
parents, Joan and Arlan Thomas, were aghast and grounded her for a month. They
demanded that she return to her natural hair color. Halle refused. The other
kids teased her and said she looked like an Irish Setter. She told them all to
go to hell.

Labeled incorrigible, she was returned to the group home. Her flaming
red hair had branded her a rebel. And she loved the attention. She continually
risked punishment, even in the home, to keep it that color. During that
tumultuous year, she also bought a fake I.D. and got a tattoo on her hip that
read R.T.W.W. for her theme song, Ride The Wild Wind.
Live life on the
razor’s edge…

Whitehorse continued to wait for an answer.

Halle gestured to herself. “Look at me! What do you see? Butt ass ugly,
that’s what. Admit it. I’m nothing to write home about.”

He knelt before her. “I
am
looking at you and you’re beautiful.
How can you not know?” He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her
ear. “Soft as the wind,” he whispered as he traced his fingertips down her
cheek. “With hair the colors of a canyon at sunset…red with deep shadowed
cliffs.”

She almost laughed. He thought three months of outgrowth was beautiful?
This guy needed his eyes examined.

“Did you know that I dreamed of you so many nights before I finally
found you in the arroyo.”

His confession stunned her. “You dreamed of me?”

He nodded solemnly. “I knew you were coming. I searched for you…felt your
presence one night during a storm.”

The storm
. Halle swallowed hard. “You saw me on the highway?”

He nodded. “A few days before I found you. I saw a flash of light and
somehow knew it was connected to you.”