Читать книгу The Bounty Hunter and the Heiress - Carol Finch, Carol Finch - Страница 12

An hour later, someone poked Eva on the shoulder. Groggily she opened her eyes, shocked to find her head on Raven’s chest and her hand flung across his abdomen. She nearly recoiled to sit upright but she remembered she was playing a charade. Cuddling up to her supposed husband wouldn’t be considered improper.

A shiver of unexpected pleasure riveted her when Raven’s warm breath caressed her neck. “Better move your hand off my lap before you embarrass both of us. I’m going to need a cold bath if you plan to sprawl all over me until lunch. Good thing the relay station is up ahead.”

Heat suffused her face. She shifted her hand and arm then levered herself upright as casually as she knew how. The fact that she felt innately secure and comfortable with Raven disturbed her. She supposed that since he was straightforward and assured her that he considered her a nuisance she wasn’t as leery of his intentions. She couldn’t say the same for the men who moved in her social circle, however. They told her what they presumed she wanted to hear to draw her interest. They relied on effusive flattery to win her affection.

That wasn’t a problem with Raven.

How refreshing to encounter a man who wanted her out of his hair rather than schemed to part her from her fortune, she mused as she silently appraised him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked warily.

She cast him a drowsy smile. “Because I’m only half-awake. I’ll be my old self in a few minutes.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he murmured against her ear, causing a stream of unwanted tingles to trickle through her.

She ignored the taunt and the arousing sensation by focusing on the landscape outside the window. The stage route skirted the fissured mountain range, providing a scenic view of craggy precipices bracketed by rugged ridges and mesas. Some of the towering summits were snow-capped while others were a tumbling cascade of boulders. There were also peaks that stood like green-clad soldiers barricading the entrance to the wilderness. Colorful wildflowers between crests waved in the breeze, making Eva wish she had time for exploring.

She had made an excursion into the mountains two years earlier with Roger and Sadie Philbert. The invigorating climb and panoramic views had captivated her. Although the Philberts decided one strenuous adventure into the wilderness was enough for them, Eva had enjoyed the rugged beauty and the challenge.

The trip reminded her of the hikes she’d made with her father when she was a child. Hoping her sister would delight in the experience, Eva had hired a guide to take her and Lydia on a short jaunt the previous year. Lydia also decided that city life appealed to her more than roughing it in the mountains. She had announced that Eva would have to make her next excursion alone. And here Eva was, striking off to overtake that slimy weasel Gordon.

Her thoughts trailed off when George Knott shouted out that they were near the rest stop at the base of the looming cliff. She noticed Raven had come to alert attention and he was the first to step down from the coach. Like a great cat scanning the terrain, he searched for signs of trouble before pivoting to help her down.

Eva tried to control the baffling tingles she experienced when his hands encircled her waist. Erotic speculations ricocheted around her mind as her body brushed suggestively against his masculine contours.

“We’ll be here ’bout fifteen minutes to check the undercarriage. A brisk walk is usually a good idea to get circulation goin’ again,” George suggested in a slurred voice.

While two scraggly-looking attendants hunkered down to check the wheels, hubs and carriage sling, Raven grasped her hand and veered away from the other passengers, who stretched this way and that to work kinks from their necks and backs.

“You’re being extremely careful, I see,” she said as he zigzagged in and out of the pines and cottonwoods that lined the narrow creek.

“I don’t want you hurt because of me,” he insisted. “Besides, it makes me look bad if I can’t protect my own wife.” He halted abruptly then spun to face her. “I’ve been thinking it over for an hour and I’ve decided you should go home on the next stage that comes through here.”

She stared disparagingly at him. “Just because I’m pretending to be your wife, don’t think you can tell me what to do, Jo-Dan.”

“Don’t call me that,” he said and scowled.

“Don’t tell me to go home,” she countered. “I’m going to find that lowdown, good-for-nothing swindler and recover the horse and every red cent he stole from Lydia.”

“How many red cents are we talking about?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She flicked her wrist dismissively. “It’s the principle of the matter.”

Raven barked a laugh. “You’re in the wrong neck of the woods to avenge your strong sense of fair play to your personal satisfaction. I can tell you from experience that life isn’t a damn bit fair. If you don’t believe it, ask the Cheyenne people whom Colonel Chivington massacred at Sand Creek in Colorado, and then suffered through George Custer’s ambush on the Washita River in Indian Territory.”

Eva grimaced at the thought of Raven’s family encountering such a disastrous fate. She remembered reading about the Sand Creek Massacre investigation. Her private tutor had described it as one of the most brutal and insensitive crimes in the country.

“Were you there?” she asked gently.

He nodded abruptly. “I was twelve years old when Chivington and his soldiers killed my mother, uncle and all of my cousins except one,” he said in a grim voice. “Blackowl and I survived by pretending to have drowned. We floated facedown in the stream until the soldiers passed. Then we came ashore to confiscate a horse. We headed for cover in the mountains and then took refuge with a band of Utes.”

“I lost my mother to illness when I was five and my father died when I was sixteen,” she confided. “But I cannot fathom how awful it would be to endure a cruel massacre that senselessly took your family from you.”

“It was hell,” Raven muttered as he stared at the towering precipices. “Two years later I located my father at the trading rendezvous near Pine Crest. He thought I had perished, too. In the meantime, he’d married a white women and settled into town life. Although I wasn’t accepted into polite society more readily than I am now, my father was determined to indoctrinate me into white culture.” He pulled a face. “It didn’t help that I inherited a racist stepbrother who made my life miserable. When my father died, I cleared out. At eighteen I hired on to ride shotgun for coaches and express trains before venturing out on my own.”

“But you never used your impressive skills to scout for renegades for the army,” she presumed.

“Hell no,” he grumbled. “Soldiers in uniforms bring back too many bitter memories. I’ll be damned if I’ll help them track runaway warriors from other tribes so they can herd them like cattle to those hated reservations.”

To say that Raven harbored hard feelings was an understatement. Not that she blamed him. She was still bitter about being used by Felix Winslow, who professed to love her until his dying day…and discarded her for another woman so fast it made her head spin. So who was she to pass judgment?

“Stay here.” Raven drew a peacemaker from his holster then pressed it into her hand. “Do you know how to use this?”

“Sort of,” she hedged.

“You can always use it as a club if you’re desperate,” he suggested before he slinked away.

“Where—?”

She compressed her lips when Raven disappeared into the bushes. She glanced around, wondering what his trained senses had seen or heard that she had missed. Then, in the near distance, she heard the thud of retreating hoof-beats. A moment later Raven appeared, swearing in what she presumed to be the Cheyenne language.

“Did you see who it was?” she asked as he approached.

“No. Which is all the more reason for you to wait at this station to catch the returning stage.”

“I made it perfectly clear that I’m not abandoning my mission,” she retorted sternly.

“How many more times do I have to win this argument?” he shot back. “Any association with me puts you in danger. How do you think you’re going to avenge your kid sister if you’re dead or worse?”

“What’s worse than dead?” she said, smirking.

“Don’t ask.” He clutched her hand to lead her down to the creek for another refreshing drink from a spring-fed stream.

Eva had the unmistakable feeling that Raven had seen the worst humankind could do to one another. In comparison to his exploits, she was hopelessly sheltered and naive. Nevertheless, her fierce sense of justice and her devotion to her sister refused to let her give up when the going got a mite tough. She would see this through, whether Raven approved or not—which he obviously didn’t.

“All right, how about a compromise,” Raven suggested as he reclaimed the pistol so she could sip water with her cupped hands. “You go home and I’ll track this Carter character after I’ve trained a dependable saddle horse. Give me two weeks to work with a green-broke mount then I’ll search for Carter.”

“In two weeks Gordon could be anywhere,” she argued. “Even out of the state if he’s so inclined. I don’t have to tell you that cold trails are difficult to follow. Gordon is obviously in the area because he sold the carriage just last night. If he heads for the hills there are but three mining camps in the area called Devil’s Triangle for me to search. I intend to visit Purgatory Gulch, Satan’s Bluff and Hell’s Corner before I give up and go home.”

“If you think that claiming to be my wife, while you tramp around in those rowdy camps, is going to keep you safe then you’re sadly mistaken,” Raven said harshly. “Some of those men working claims haven’t seen a woman in months. Years maybe. Don’t expect the polite consideration you’re accustomed to in civilization. There are no laws and no rules, except survival of the strongest and you’d be an easy mark.”

She knew he was trying his damnedest to impress upon her the danger she might face, but she wanted to apprehend Gordon so badly that it was an obsession.

Besides, she had vowed to her father on his deathbed that she’d protect Lydia. She had failed miserably. And because she hadn’t sought revenge on Felix Winslow for hurting her, she wanted to make an example of Gordon to compensate for her ill feelings toward the conniving con men of the world.

“I can take care of myself,” she assured Raven.

His reply was a contradicting snort.

“I can hold my own with you, can’t I? I’m not afraid of you, Raven. Fear is not the feeling tormenting me.”

Compelled by some emotion she refused to name or delve into too deeply, she framed his bearded face with her hands. His catlike eyes glowed as she drew his head to hers. When her lips touched his mouth experimentally, she realized she’d wanted to taste him since…Well, she couldn’t remember precisely when the forbidden craving began, but the casual pecks she’d planted on his cheek and chin earlier today had only whetted her appetite.

Despite his stubborn refusal to assist her, in spite of their ongoing conflict and her solemn vow never to let a man matter to her again, she wanted something from this man that she craved from no one else.

Raven’s kiss was surprisingly gentle and the taste of him urged her closer—as close as she’d been when she’d used his muscular body as a cushion during her nap on the stagecoach. As close as they had been when he sprawled on top of her to shield her from the flying bullet.

In this fanciful moment outside the realm of time and reality, in this secluded cove by the creek, Eva cast off her wary inhibitions and looped her arms around Raven’s neck. She leaned into him, enjoying the feel of her body meshed against his masculine contours, marveling at the fact that she’d taken the initiative with a man for the first time in her life.

“You aren’t playing fair and this is no way to win an argument,” Raven rasped after he broke the kiss. “Next thing I know you’ll be offering me this lush body of yours if I’ll take this assignment.”

She grinned at him, feeling oddly confident and comfortable in the circle of his brawny arms. “Would you take it? In addition to a premium rate for bounty?”

He smiled down at her, his fascinating eyes flickering with playful mischief. Eva felt her heart thud against her ribs and stick there momentarily, even when he said, “No, hellion, I told you that you are a pain in the ass.”

He angled his dark head and his gaze locked with hers as he took her mouth beneath his. His words were in direct contrast to the smoldering heat and hunger in his kiss.

Eva felt herself being swept up in the reckless moment. His arms contracted, lifting her off the ground. He pressed her against his hips as his tongue plunged between her lips. She felt his aroused flesh between her thighs and her body responded instantaneously. She couldn’t get close enough to satisfy the burgeoning craving, couldn’t kiss him hard enough or deeply enough to appease the white-hot need that suddenly burned her alive.

Sweet mercy! Where had all these wild, desperate feelings and sizzling sensations come from? Had she suppressed physical desire for too many years, in her effort to avoid the wiles and entrapments of cunning adventurers? And why did this man, who didn’t particularly like her, have to be the one who inflamed her with incredible hunger?

Eva’s head was still spinning like a windmill when Raven suddenly set her to her feet and stepped away. He stared at her as if she were insane. Or he was. Then his thick brows bunched over his green-gold eyes and he scowled at her.

“You are trying to seduce me into taking this assignment, aren’t you? Damn it, Eva!”

She puffed up with offended dignity. “I did no such thing! You’re the one who tried to lure me into your bed last night.” Shame and anger flooded her cheeks. “I can’t begin to explain why I thought it was a good idea to kiss you. It was foolish and reckless and I don’t care if you strike off to train a blasted horse while I track Gordon myself. No matter what, I will get the job done!”

Furious with herself for her lapse of good judgment—and feeling incredibly self-conscious to boot—she lurched around to hike back to the relay station. She must be out of her mind to be so attracted to a man who had no use for her whatsoever.

“Don’t kiss me like that again,” he called after her.

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” she said over her shoulder.

Besides, she’d liked kissing him way too much and she would cut out her tongue before she admitted it to that infuriating man.

“Don’t go haring off by yourself without paying attention to your surroundings,” Raven warned as she stamped off without so much as a backward glance.

Raven blew out his breath. He hadn’t meant to pick a fight with Eva right now. Apparently, it came naturally for him. She made him feel reckless and vulnerable. Plus, she was as headstrong as he was, no doubt about that.

The more conflict between them, the better off he’d be. He wished he’d remembered that before he kissed her and discovered that she tasted like honey, smelled as fresh and wholesome as the whole outdoors…and felt like heaven in his arms.

Holy hell! Dealing with the scalding sensations she set off inside him was the last thing he needed to distract him while an unknown sniper lurked around. Already Eva had come dangerously close to being shot by a bullet meant for him.

He cringed at the thought of her being hurt or killed because of her association with him.

Marshal Doyle in Denver had warned him the Widow Flanders and Buster’s family were hell-bent on revenge. Since that clan of ruffians was as thick as thieves, whomever she’d hired to gun him down must be taking the job seriously.

The fact that someone wanted him dead was nothing new. Besides, he faced danger on a daily basis. He had made peace with the prospect of his own demise after watching the massacre that had destroyed most of his Cheyenne family. But he was not prepared to claim responsibility for Eva’s death.

He barely knew that firebrand but that didn’t seem to matter. She provoked all sorts of intense sentiments and sensations that he usually had no difficulty controlling. But here she was, the picture of beauty and spirit, right in his face, right in his arms…and now she was the lingering taste on his lips.

The disturbing thought prompted him to take another sip of water, hoping to wash away her taste. It was a waste of time. And he had no idea how to erase the memory of her shapely body imprinted on his.

“Hell and damnation.” Raven expelled an exasperated breath then inhaled fresh air, hoping to clear his head and get his unruly male body under control.

He stood in the exact spot where he’d kissed Eva with wild desperation—and she had kissed him back the same way. When the memory and sensations tried to overpower him again, he focused his concentration on scanning the hillsides. He’d encountered enough precarious situations the past decade to sense trouble. And he definitely sensed trouble now. Hell, he could practically hear death rattles.

The hair on the back of his neck stood at attention, prompting him to retreat into the pockets of shadows in the trees. He knew there was a narrow trail leading to the ridge to the west because he’d followed it as a child and had used it three years ago while searching for the drunken murderer wanted in Leadville.

Raven stared up the rocky slopes and noticed a flash of color among the trees. Someone was lying in wait. Thankfully, he hadn’t become an easy target for another ambush attempt.

A horse nickered in the distance, confirming his suspicion. Raven jogged off when he heard the driver announce it was time to board the coach. He circled to step into the opposite side of the coach, convinced that he was being stalked and that he had been marked for death.

No one in the coach uttered a word when Eva piled onto the seat. She sat catty-corner to him and never once glanced in his direction. It was clear to everyone that she wasn’t speaking to him.

“Lover’s spat?” Frank Albers questioned as he rolled a silver dollar deftly over his fingers.

Apparently, Eva overheard because she looked over at Raven and held his gaze while he replied, “Just a difference of opinion. Now that I think about it, I was probably wrong.”

Frank snickered when he noticed the smile on Eva’s lips. “A wise man once told me that if husbands knew how to say they were sorry and they were wrong, marriages would run smoother.” He winked at Raven. “You’re halfway there.”

For the life of him, he didn’t know why he’d bypassed the chance to fuel the anger that had sent Eva stamping off earlier. The only explanation was that he was turning into mush—all because of a beautiful but feisty female who couldn’t possibly be more than a footnote in the chronicles of his hardscrabble life. Why should he care if Eva Whoever-she-was was annoyed with him? He shouldn’t…

Then she smiled and those luminous brown eyes twinkled with inner spirit. He turned into a mindless sap and smiled back at her.

Raven was reasonably sure that goofy smile was still plastered on his face when a loud clap of thunder shook loose his stalled thoughts. He glanced through the window to see a thunderstorm skirting the mountains. The bank of gray clouds that had scraped the summits left a curtain of rain sweeping over the stagecoach. The driver cracked his whip over the team of horses, hoping to outrun the cloudburst.

Rather than huddling against the seat, Eva outstretched her hand to catch the oversize raindrops then she inhaled a deep breath of rain-scented air. Spellbound, Raven watched her tilt her face to the mist swirling around the window. A woman who embraced storms? What else did she like? he wondered.

Was she really the sister of the woman Gordon had betrayed? Or was she the woman scorned? There was also the possibility that she had been Gordon’s accomplice and he had double-crossed her by riding off with the extorted money. Perhaps she wanted her cut and wasn’t giving up until she found him.

Why wouldn’t she divulge her last name? he wondered. That made him highly suspicious. He knew she wasn’t telling him the whole story. He could sense it.

You’re thinking too damn hard, Raven. Before long, you’ll be gone and Eva will continue her crusade with or without you.

Raven glanced away, watching the curtain of rain sweep past the stagecoach then fizzle out as if it hadn’t been there at all. If nothing else, the shower settled the dust. At best, the midday storm might have waylaid the unidentified bushwhacker. Better yet, he might slip and fall on the treacherous mountain trails. If he ended up at the bottom of a canyon, it would be one less thing for Raven to fret about.

Of course, that would be too easy. When had life been easy? Never that Raven could recall.

“Lunch will be served at the upcoming station!” George called down to the passengers. “Eat heartily, friends, because it will be a long ride before we stop for supper.”

Raven noted the slur in George’s voice. Stage drivers were known to be heavy drinkers, he recalled. George had been tipping his stashed bottle all morning. That explained the bushy-haired man’s daring when he’d asked how Raven possibly could have married a woman like Eva. He hadn’t taken offense to the tactless question. It was obvious to everyone with eyes in his head that he and Eva didn’t belong together.