The Wildest Heart (16 page)

I fumbled with the bolt that fastened the door leading from the patio to the cleared space outside. Where had he gone? Surely he couldn't have gone far, he had to get from the roof to the ground, and then—a grove of trees hid the bunkhouse. Not there! He had to have gone in the other direction.

I ran, stumbling over the hem of my robe, and risked calling his name out loud.

“Lucas? Oh, damn you! Where are you?”

Without warning an arm clamped around my waist and I found myself thrown to the ground with a force that knocked the breath from my body.

“What the hell are you up to now? Want to get them all down on us?”

“Us,” he had said, as if I had already thrown in my lot with his. But for the moment I felt as if I was hunted myself, when I heard the voices of some of the occupants of the bunkhouse who were early risers.

“Did you hear something, Pete?”

“Ain't certain. Thought I heard someone call out…”

“Damn white robe of yours stands out like a signal flag. Can you crawl backwards? An' don't make a sound, if you can help it.”

There was hardly a way I could crawl, with his body half covering mine. He dragged me backwards, and even through the thin material of my robe I felt the flesh skinned from my knees and elbows.

I felt his hand come over my mouth, stifling me.

“Lie still, hear?”

The robe was bunched up over my thighs by now. Hearing the hammering of my heartbeats in my ears, I had no choice but to lie still, feeling the clump of brush he had dragged me under pricking into my bare flesh.

“Shit! Ain't nothin' out here. You probably heard a coyote back in the hills.”

Thankfully, I heard Marta's voice, scolding softly.

“What are you boys trying to do? Wake the patrona? You all hush now, or you won't get any breakfast. Shoo!”

I heard them straggle, grumbling, back to the bunkhouse.

Lucas Cord's breath was warm against the back of my neck. “Why'd you come after me?”

I moved my head angrily and heard him make a half-stifled sound that might have been a laugh as he moved his hand from over my mouth.

“Never mind. You got 'em all awake now. Better go on back to the house.”

I whispered furiously, “You didn't tell me anything! Why Elmer Bragg sent you, or…”

“You didn't want to listen. Will you hold still? You're gonna be all scratched up come morning, if you don't.”

“It already
is
morning! And you're despicable!”

“Sounds like you're swearin' at me. There—got you loose now.” His fingers, brushing against my shrinking skin, had disengaged my trailing robe from the twigs that held it.

It was ridiculous that I should be lying out here in the dark, half-naked, with a man I knew to be a murderer and a violator of women. It was idiotic of me to have followed him. Still, here I was, and my curiosity wasn't yet satisfied.

“I want to know.”

“Got no time to tell you anything now. And especially not out here.”

“You'll answer my questions, Luke Cord, or I'll make such a noise that they'll all come out here, with their guns drawn!”

“Damned if you ain't threatenin' me!”

He put his hand on my shoulder, fingers pressing into my flesh, and involuntarily I shrank, remembering the way he had thrown me to the ground a few moments ago. With a movement just as sudden and as violent, he turned me from my bruised side onto my back.

I realized that my robe had fallen open down the front and I was conscious of the fact that somehow, his body still lay half-covering mine. My throat was unexpectedly dry, and I afraid.

I remember that all kinds of thoughts wove in and out of my mind at that moment. He must be a good wrestler, the ease with which he throws my body around—and, oh God, now he's going to rape me, it'll be much worse than the last time, and I don't dare scream.

He put his hand on me, and I made a smothered sound, but all he did, impatiently, was pull the edges of my robe together.

“Now, look,” he whispered, bringing his face close to mine, “why don't you just go back in the house an' try to forget you seen me? Ain't no point in us tryin' to talk out here anyhow.”

“I want to know—”

I thought I caught the flash of white teeth in the blur that was his face as he grinned.

“Stubborn, ain't you?” His voice changed, subtly, from amusement to impatience. “But so am I. See you in Silver City, if you still got questions then.”

I felt him ease his weight from me, and then he was gone, leaving me with my bruises and frustrated anger.

I fumbled my way back to the patio, and through it to my bedroom, aching in every bone. I had made a fool of myself, and I hated Lucas Cord all the more for his being the cause. See me in Silver City indeed! Would he actually have the daring to show himself there? And as for seeing him again, I had no desire to do so. I vowed to myself that when I saw Mr. Bragg again I would tell him, in no uncertain terms, what I thought of his peculiar sense of humor—if it had, indeed, been some kind of joke on his part.

My white robe was dirty and crumpled, and there was a long tear in the hem where it had caught on a twig. Even my embroidered linen nightgown looked crushed and had faint dirt stains on it. Marta would be upset and ask questions. I would have to tell her I couldn't sleep and had wandered out onto the patio before the sun came up, that I had tripped and fallen over the hem of my robe. That would account for my bruises too. I could not help grimacing at the thought that I was becoming an accomplished liar!

But why did I feel it necessary to lie? I lay across my bed, having turned down the lamp, and frowned into the darkness. All I had to do was tell them what had happened. Better still, I could tell Todd Shannon! I pictured myself doing just that, quite casually.

“I had an unwelcome and unexpected visitor last night. He came through the trapdoor to the roof that I had quite forgotten about. Of course you know him! Lucas Cord.”

Todd, of course, would fly into a fury. Oh, I could almost shiver at the thought! And I would say coolly, to his inevitable question, “Of
course
he did not touch me! Do you think I'd let him, a man like that? But he
did
say he'd see me in Silver City.”

Of course. That would be all that was necessary. I was certain Todd would see to the rest. I would need to say nothing to Flo. With Lucas Cord out of the way, surely the feud would die a natural death!

And then, unaccountably, I shivered. A strange choice of words. What had he told me about the bounty killers that Todd had sent after him? Lucas was a man who lived with death, even as he had dealt it out. They would kill him. Darn him, why had he told me he'd see me in Silver City? Could I bear to have his—or any other human's—blood on my hands and my conscience?

I had all morning to think about it. Marta accepted my story of a fall on the patio with a rather doubtful look and comment that I should think about getting a dog.

“The boys said they heard something last night. I think maybe they disturbed you?”

I denied this, but promised her I would ask Mark to find a dog for me when I saw him next. And when I was alone in my father's study at last my thoughts went back, inevitably, to last night. What on earth was I going to do? I still hadn't come to a conclusion when Mark was announced.

I greeted him with an unusual amount of warmth, but his very first words set all my defenses bristling.

“Rowena, what made you do it? There was no need to run away, surely you realized that? The other guests asked questions, and my uncle was like a grizzly with a sore paw!”

“I hope
he
did not send you then,” I said coldly. “I'm in no mood to listen to recriminations. And I was not running away.” I had gone to the door to greet him, and now I turned from him, walking back to the window in order to hide my agitation.

Mark followed me, his face concerned. “Rowena, what is the matter? What I meant to say was that you did not seem to be your usual self last night, and then, when you left without a word, I thought—” he caught my shoulders, gently drawing me around to face him. “Did Flo say anything to upset you? Or was it what I said? It is not my uncle's mood that upsets me, but the thought that you might be displeased with me!”

When I said nothing, he began to study my face, a worried frown knitting his brows. “There is something wrong,” he said quietly. “You cannot hide it from me. Is it my uncle? Something he said to upset you?” I tried to pull away from him and his fingers tightened on my bruised shoulders, making me gasp in pain. Immediately, his hands dropped to my upper arms; his face darkened.

“He hurt you? My God—this is too much to accept, even from my own uncle! No wonder you wanted to leave, and I let you down. But this time, I swear to
you, I'll…”

“Mark, no!” I had to interrupt him. I suppose my agitation was clearly visible, for his face seemed to go white with anger.

“He shall not get away with it! All his life he has ridden roughshod over people and I've pretended not to see it. But when he dares hurt
you
…”

“He didn't hurt me! Mark, you don't understand. Your uncle and I argued, yes, but I—I left the house merely to prove my own independence; it was not because…”

I had underestimated the extent of Mark's anger—or was it his love for me? Without warning he pulled down the shoulder of my loose peasant blouse, revealing the livid bruises I had hoped to hide.

“Good God!” he said softly, and I thought I felt his hands tremble.

“Mark!” I said quickly, “you must listen to me! It was not your uncle, it was a fall! I couldn't sleep very well last night; I wandered out onto the patio, and it was dark. I was clumsy, careless! I tripped over the hem of my robe and fell against the wall. You see? It was really nothing to become so concerned about.”

“I don't believe you.” Mark had never used such a hard, tense tone when speaking to me before, and shock made me widen my eyes. Before I could speak he had caught me by the arms again, holding me firmly. “You are protecting him, aren't you? In spite of what he did, you still want to protect him! For God's sake, Rowena! Have you let him bewitch you too? I thought that you, of all people, would be the one to stand up to him.”

“That's quite enough, Mark!” I was so angry that my voice was uneven. “Once and for all, Todd Shannon had nothing to do with the bruises you saw. Nothing, do you hear? Must I swear it to convince you that I'm telling the truth? What right have you to stand here and accuse me?”

“I'm in love with you, and you know it!” He almost shook in his frustration. “Do you think I can stand to see you hurt? To see the dark circles under your eyes and know that you haven't slept? Oh, Christ, Rowena! I haven't been able to rest either, for thinking about you and worrying about you, for wondering what he said or did to you to make you run so frantically from him! Don't you understand? I know you do not think me much of a man, but damnation, I'm enough of one to want to kill whoever dares touch you and make you unhappy!”

The unexpected violence of his speech took me so much aback that I didn't resist him when he pulled me against him. “Rowena! If you only knew, if you would only trust me enough to tell me…”

He rained hungry, desperate kisses on my temple, my face, my mouth, when I would have spoken. And then he buried his face against my shoulder, kissing the bruises. I had not expected such vehemence or such passion from him.

When he released me at last and lifted his head, I saw the hurt in his eyes. I had remained passive in his embrace, neither rejecting nor returning his kisses, while my mind raced. Now I gently disengaged myself from his hands and moved backward, to lean against my father's desk.

He gave me a pleading look.

“Rowena… my dearest girl…”

I made my voice deliberately flat and expressionless.

“Before—before you say anything more you must listen to me, Mark! I realize that I must tell you the truth, in all fairness to everyone concerned, but first you have to promise me that this will remain in the strictest confidence between us; and that you will not do anything about it. Is that clear?”

I saw his face begin to harden again and shook my head warningly at him. “I mean it, Mark. If you will not give me your word, then I will tell you nothing.” I added cunningly, “If you really care for me, you'll give me the promise I've asked for. I need a friend, Mark, someone I can talk to frankly. Don't you understand?”

White tension lines appeared at the corners of his mouth, but he nodded grimly. “You know exactly the right words to use to bring me around to your will, don't you?” There was a note of bitterness in his voice before it softened somewhat. “But whatever it is you ask of me, you have only to ask. Tell me what happened. I'll try not to interrupt and I'll try to restrain my temper.”

I smiled gratefully at him, although my body still felt stiff with strain. Could I trust Mark? But I would have to. I could see that now. I could not have him thinking the worst.

It was even more difficult to relate the events of last night than I had imagined, especially when I could watch the changing play of expressions on Mark's face. They ranged from apprehension to grim-lipped rage to concern back to rage again. Several times I thought he would interrupt me, but true to his word, he merely tightened his lips and desisted.

He was silent until I had come to the end of my rather difficult explanations, until I cried out almost accusingly, “So you see how wrong you were? And that I was not exactly lying when I told you I had a fall? It was my fault, of course, for running out after him like that, and he—Mark, don't look that way! Lucas Cord did nothing to me! He could have, if he had wanted to, I suppose, but he only said it was too late for talking and went away!”