Читать книгу Millie And The Fugitive - Liz Ireland, Liz Ireland - Страница 10

Chapter Three

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife. Bob Jitter remembered those words from when he was a kid. Back then he hadn’t known what coveting was all about, but he did now. Yes, sir, he sure did.

Jitter hung back in the cabin’s small kitchen and watched the newlyweds fight. Watching and coveting was about all there was to do around the place these days. Darnell’s cattle had up and died, the little garden they’d cultivated in the spring had dried up by July. If it weren’t for Darnell’s wife, Tess, Jitter was sure he would have left. Though he considered Darnell a friend, as well as his employer, that didn’t change the fact that there was little around the place for him to do. But ever since Darnell had brought his bride home at the beginning of summer, Jitter had found himself stuck on the old place as surely as if he were knee-deep in mud.

“C’mon, Jitter, back me up here,” Darnell said, turning away from his wife to plead with his friend in the corner.

“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’,” Jitter replied. A person would have to be a fool to go up against Tess. Maybe an even bigger fool to marry her. But she had the looks and a figure men were apt to make fools of themselves over — himself included, he feared.

Many was the night he lay dreaming about her, dreaming about what if she weren’t another man’s wife. Probably she wouldn’t spare him a second glance. But at least then he’d have a right to his dreams, to conjuring up the image of himself winding that long, silky blond hair through his fingers, and staring into those icy blue eyes. She was only a few inches shorter than his own six feet, and every inch of her soft, womanly curves. He doubted he had ever come so close to a woman so beautiful, yet she was completely out of his reach.

Once, she had been in his reach. Jitter and Tess had checked into a Buffalo Gap hotel together as man and wife, “Mr. and Mrs. Darnell Weems,” while Darnell went to take care of his old partner. Of course, his being in the hotel with Tess had been pretense, an alibi, but as he sat up all night in a chair, watching Tess as she lay across the big double bed, her blond hair flowing on the pillow, the temptation had been achingly real.

“What kind of man are you?” Tess shouted across the room at her husband, startling Jitter out of his guilty thoughts. Her blue eyes flashed with contempt at the slightly hunch-shouldered man standing across from her.

“I done what you wanted, Tess,” Darnell argued.

“Don’t try clearing your conscience by heaping your sins on my head, Darnell Weems.”

“But you was the one who said that if we’d have got Jesse’s land in Chariton instead of this patch of dust in Little Bend, we’d be a lot better off.”

“I’m sure you would have figured that out sooner or later,” Tess replied snidely.

But Jitter wasn’t so sure. It was Tess who, as a disgruntled new bride, had made the discovery that the deed to their land was actually in both Darnell’s and Jesse Winter’s names. At first she had only wanted to ensure that Jesse didn’t come snatch the land out from under her in the event of Darnell’s untimely demise. But after hearing the story of how Darnell and Jesse had won two parcels of land on either side of the state from a man who signed over the deeds in their names, and then flipped a coin to see who would get which, Tess had hatched an even better plan. Because if the deed to Jesse Winter’s land still bore two names, then Darnell — and she, too — would have a legitimate claim to it in the event of Jesse Winter’s untimely demise. Which she had soon convinced Darnell to arrange.

“You said you would be happy if’n I did what you wanted,” Darnell said, hurt. “But you ain’t happy. I’m beginning to think you ain’t never been happy.”

“Not since I laid eyes on you, I haven’t!” she replied in a fury. “You bungle everything you put your hand to. You couldn’t even kill the right person.”

Darnell’s shoulders tensed. “But I told you, I just saw a body in bed and assumed...” His voice trailed off helplessly as something inside him seemed to deflate. “And then... then it was too late.”

“You should have waited until Jesse got back.”

“But I couldn’t. I’d just done murder, Tess. You know what that means?”

She crossed her arms and sent him a withering stare. “In for a penny, in for a pound, I always say.”

“But she was just laying there, bleeding. His wife. I just sat there thinkin’, what if it had been different. What if that had been you, hon?”

“Then I hope whoever had gone to the trouble of snuffing me out would have the sense to wait around for the right victim to come along.”

Darnell, his rusty-haired good looks marred by his hangdog expression, ceded the point. “Well, I didn’t.”

“And now you won’t even listen to reason. We can go get that land, Darnell. Good land. You said yourself he ain’t got no relatives, ’cept his brother, who’s going to jail, too. You’re his partner, and you won that land together. You got as much right to the place as anybody. More. Your name’s on the deed. Just because you flipped some fool coin, that doesn’t mean anything.”

“But I murdered his wife, Tess.”

“Stop saying that!” Tess paced back and forth, her long legs crossing the room with few steps, and looked back up at her husband periodically in annoyance. “Worrying about that is making you sick, weak. Jitter and I spent the night in that hotel, so there couldn’t be any problems. Buck up!”

“It ain’t so easy,” he snapped back.

She stopped her pacing and turned on him, her fists planted firmly on her hips. “Well, it ain’t so easy for me, either, sitting here and watching a golden opportunity pass us by. I didn’t marry you so’s I could be poorer than I ever was, you know. I thought you were somebody that was going places.”

“It’s just been a bad year, that’s all,” he said, his tone full of resentment.

“Well, it’s not gonna get any better with you sittin’ around on your duff all day, too afraid to go and get what should have been yours in the first place.”

“You can’t expect me to just waltz into Chariton to see my old friend hang, Tess.”

“You were happy enough to waltz in when you were aimin’ on murdering him.” The truth finally shut Darnell up, and Tess took advantage of the moment to ram her argument home. She walked over to him, sidling up real close, and meekly took his hands. “Oh, Darnell,” she said, her voice pleasingly appeasing, “I just want what’s best for both of us. You know how I want a family.”

Darnell scuffed one foot against Tess’s immaculate kitchen floor. “Aw, I know.”

“But I can’t see us having a family out here,” she said, staring at him with those blue eyes of hers. She could make them go all gooey when she wanted to.

Times like these, Jitter could understand clearly how Darnell could have been hoodwinked into marrying a woman who had nothing but contempt for him. He had to give Tess credit for being the slyest thing he’d come across this side of a sidewinder. And she was a hell of a lot prettier.

“If we wait to make our claim, the land will be sold,” she insisted gently.

“There’s other land.”

“Not land that should have been yours to begin with.”

“It’s a bad idea, goin’ back there.”

The two of them stood toe-to-toe, almost nose-to-nose. Darnell had the advantage in height. But when Tess’s eyes started misting up, that slight edge was overshadowed.

She took a step back and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I guess you just don’t want me to be happy,” she said in a wounded tone.

Darnell released a raw sigh. “Aw, hon. Of course I do. Didn’t I marry you? Didn’t I add on this nice kitchen for you? Nothin’s more important in the world to me than you.”

“That was months ago,” she said, squeezing another teardrop out. This one she allowed to fall dramatically down her pale cheek. Jitter could almost feel its warm progress down her soft skin. “You sure don’t act like you love me anymore, Darnell.”

That little tear was Darnell’s undoing. He stepped forward and gathered his wife into his arms and kissed the blond hair at the crown of her head. As the two embraced, Jitter felt his breath hitch in his throat, and his gut wrenched so uncomfortably that he had to look away. But not for long.

“I do, you know I do,” Darnell said soothingly. “I just don’t want to risk too much at once.”

She sniffed, all the while running a long-nailed hand up and down Darnell’s back. Jitter shivered.

“But we gotta take risks sometime,” she said, “if we’re gonna get ahead. Don’t you think so, Darnell?”

He hesitated—or maybe he was just a little bit distracted by that hand skimming his spine. Finally, he caved in. “I guess you’re right.”

She hugged him more tightly. “Oh, I’m not even sure I want to go, anyway,” she said. “I don’t have a nice thing to wear — we’ll never fit into polite society with me lookin’ like an old shoe.”

Now that Darnell was licked, he was all smiles. “Sweetheart, I’m gonna sell everything left here that could raise money, and before we go back east, we’ll stop in Little Bend and buy you the nicest dress there.”

She beamed up at him. “Oh, Darnell, you’re so good to me!”

Darnell bent down and kissed her on the lips, long and hard. The two remained in an embrace until Tess pulled back, flashing her husband a delectable smile.

Finally, Darnell glanced around, remembering that someone else was in the room. “You okay, Jitter? You look all pale and clammy.”

Jitter shook his head. He didn’t care how mean she was. He would have done anything to trade places with Darnell at that moment. Good thing he could still call to mind scraps of his Bible learning. Thou shalt not... shalt not...

From the top of a long grassy hill, Sam looked down at a rough log building. A sign out front, above the door, announced it to be a store — but it couldn’t be much of one, given its size and its location. Yet the place was bound to have something that would make the next few days a little more bearable. He was beginning to feel as worn out and empty as his hostage looked. And with any luck, he could be in and out before the proprietor even took notice of him.

With any luck... That was a good one! When was the last time he’d felt lucky? Moments before making the acquaintance of Millicent Lively, that was when.

He sneaked a glance at her now, trying to detect whether her expression was at all smug. She was getting what she wanted, after all. But no, her face was perfectly serene, devoid of any outward show of triumph. She stood, her thin shoulders straight, her head erect, looking directly down at the little building. Her yellow dress was dust-covered and raggedy, yet he hadn’t been completely successful in disguising it; bright patches still showed through.

“I guess I’ll tie you up back here,” he said.

She turned on him, her eyes round. “Tie me up? Why?”

“So you won’t gallop away when I’m gone.”

“But I want to go with you!”

He rolled his eyes. He should have expected her to be difficult on this point. “You know I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not?”

“Look—it’s just a little trading post. You won’t be missing out on much.” He shot her a keen glance. “Unless you were planning on trying to escape.”

“I told you I wouldn’t!” she cried. “I gave you my word. You can’t just leave me out here, tied up to some tree.”

Sam leaned forward on his saddle. “Why not?”

“Well... I’d scream.”

“Not if I muffled you.”

“You would do that!” she said in disgust. “But just the same, it’s a bad idea. What if someone saw me out here? There’s no place around where you could hide me and Mrs. Darwimple.”

She had a point there. And she knew it.

“If someone should happen upon me, once I was free you’d be caught for sure,” she continued. A second later, she added smartly, “And then you would have lost your very valuable hostage.”

Millie apparently wasn’t going to let go of that pet theory, no matter how many problems she caused him.

“If you go down there with me, I’ll be watching you every minute.”

“I know.”

“Don’t think you can escape.”

“I don’t,” she answered, tossing her head testily. “I’m no fool. Besides, didn’t I tell you that you could trust me? I have a repu —”

“I know, I know,” Sam interrupted. “You’re as honest as a looking glass.”

She shrugged immodestly. “I’m only repeating what people tell me.”

He smirked. “Guess what? I’m honest, too.”

Millie’s eyebrows raised dubiously. “I didn’t say I was gullible!”

“You see, Millicent, I have a theory that most people are honest... until chance forces them to be otherwise. Good people lie when they’re in trouble and can’t see any other way out. Some people, the lucky ones who never have to face serious troubles, never are really tried.”

As he spoke, Millie’s jaw went slack. “Are you insinuating that I have never had real troubles?” she asked in astonishment. The very thought made her laugh incredulously. “Believe me, Mr. Winter, if anyone’s life was ever a strain, it’s mine! You had no way of knowing this, of course, but my mother died right after I was born, and since I was a little girl, I’ve borne the responsibility of running my father’s household, and being his hostess.”

Sam waited for further tales of woe, but apparently planning her father’s dinner parties was the extent of the strain in Millicent Lively’s sheltered life. “That’s it?” he asked.

“No...” She sighed. “This might come as a shock to you, but my life is hardly as exciting as it might seem to an outsider.”

“You’re telling me that on top of having responsibilities, you’re bored,” he guessed.

“Boredom is a strain!” she said.

“Listen, Princess,” Sam replied, anxious to get moving. “There are a lot of people in the world who would pay to have your troubles.”

“Well, of course! I know that. That’s the whole point of being rich. But you can’t say my life is carefree.”

“Maybe not now, at any rate,” Sam allowed, swinging down from the black. He took Millie’s arm. “Get down.”

“Why?” Her face showed alarm. “I thought you were going to take me.”

“I am. But you’ll have to go bareback. That saddle sticks out too much.”

She let herself down and watched as he ungirthed the saddle and slid it off the gray’s back. “I’ve never ridden Mrs. Darwimple without a saddle,” she said.

Somehow, it didn’t surprise him. Millicent Lively probably had a groom to saddle and unsaddle her horse at her every whim. “Chalk this up as part of that troubled life you were whining about.”

Millie crossed her arms petulantly. “Just because you’ve gotten yourself into a mess, that’s no reason to be sarcastic.”

Without a word, he turned and walked toward her, his arms outstretched.

“What are you doing?” she asked, stepping backward as if she suddenly expected to be mauled out here in an open field.

“I’m going to put you on top of that horse,” he said, hoisting her light frame onto his shoulders and heaving her onto the dappled mare. “We don’t have time for you to try to fuss about how you’re going to get up there on your own.”

She pounded a fist against his back until, with a final shove, she found herself seated on the horse. Sideways.

“You could have given me some warning before you started throwing me around like a sack of flour!” she protested, her face flaming as she awkwardly straddled the horse. Her skirts hiked up her legs, and she struggled to cover herself.

Sam looked away. Not that it did any good. He wouldn’t forget what those legs looked like anytime soon. “Just remember,” he said, nudging the black into a walk. He held up Toby’s derringer for her benefit. “Once we get near the store, my finger won’t be far from the trigger, so stay close and keep your mouth shut.”

She shot him a wry glance. “Since you put it so sweetly, how could I do otherwise?”

“Murderers aren’t supposed to be sweet,” he reminded her, hiding his amusement as he urged their horses into a trot and watched Millie bounce and slip all over Mrs. Darwimple’s back.

Millie fumed all the way down the hill. Not just because Sam refused to slow to a pace that would allow her to keep her seat without having to hug Mrs. Darwimple’s neck for dear life, either. Worse. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Sam had been trying to insinuate that she was spoiled.

Her!

Millie had known coddled people before, and she definitely wasn’t one of them. Her aunt Clara in New Orleans had never even brushed her own hair. How was that for spoiled? Or what about Sally Hall? Now there was a pampered girl. When Sally was upset over her broken engagement to Warner Simms, her parents had sent her to Europe for an entire year! Millie had tried that trick on her father, but after eleven broken engagements she hadn’t been sent anywhere besides her room. And now he actually wanted her to get married!

Besides, if the hallmark of a spoiled person was that she didn’t do work, then she just didn’t fit the bill. Far from it. Why, the very moment Sam found her, she had been picking pears that, once she’d run away long enough to bring her father to heel, she’d intended for a dessert for the family dinner. If that wasn’t work, she didn’t know what was — and look what a dangerous task it had turned out to be! She would have to remind Sam of that.

Of course, if she did tell him she would probably be forced to explain that she wasn’t actually going to do anything with those pears except hand them over to their family cook, Sonya. She herself didn’t know one end of the kitchen from the other. How could she? She’d been a motherless child, and after Sonya had caught her burning a batch of muffins all those years ago...

Well, anyway, lots of women couldn’t cook.

Not that she actually cared what Sam thought, anyway. Why should she? It wasn’t as if being a criminal were a noble way to spend one’s time. It was far better to be a lady of enviable leisure than to run around killing people!

The thought made her feel much better about herself, and she glanced over at him with a renewed sense of self-satisfaction. Or as much as she could muster, looped as she was in such an undignified position around her poor horse. Sam rode straight and tall atop his black horse, his eyes scanning the horizon for signs of other riders approaching the small building.

Watching him, it was hard to believe he was the ruthless outlaw she’d seen murder two deputies with her very own eyes. Yet so much was deceiving about Sam Winter. He spoke like a man of some education, and his manners weren’t unrefined. Not completely, at any rate. Of course, traveling out in the wild didn’t bring out the best in anyone, least of all herself. She was certain her daddy would have some choice words to say to her if he could have seen her traipsing around in her underclothes yesterday morning.

That was another strange thing about Sam’s behavior. In most of the books she’d read, criminals didn’t treat women so...gingerly. Sam had barely even spoken to her unless circumstances forced him, and he certainly hadn’t made any advances on her person. Thank goodness! She didn’t know what she would have done if she’d been kidnapped by someone more unmannerly.

In fact, if Sam weren’t her captor, she would have been tempted to say that his rough edges were rather endearing. True, he was overly gruff toward her at times, and perhaps a little too unconcerned about her comfort, but she couldn’t deny that she found his wry humor charming, in its own peculiar way. And his dismissive way of treating her was a bit refreshing, frankly. Most men she knew made perfect fools of themselves trying to be nice to her and treat her as though she were a delicate flower. Not Sam. The moment he tied her to a tree and threw a horse blanket over her, she’d known he was different from all the others.

Millie sighed. Just as she had expected, it would be a little sad to part company with this strange man. And she would be terribly sorry to see him follow his brother to the gallows, as he no doubt would. Perhaps he might even beat Jesse there. Killing two sworn officers of the law topped wife-murdenng any day, in her book. Even so, she couldn’t deny having fallen under Sam Winter’s spell, just a tiny bit.

What woman wouldn’t? He was handsome in a rugged way that she just didn’t run across among the men she knew. And his voice was deep, melodious. And his gray eyes practically lit up when he teased her. And when he touched her, as he had when he lifted her onto Mrs. Darwimple...

Oh, it was hopeless. What was the use of dwelling on details? They might serve her well when she was relating the events of her exciting abduction to Sally, but in the meantime, she was better off not romanticizing the man too much. After all, he’d be as good as dead once she was through with him.

Right now she had to concentrate on the task ahead of her. She couldn’t forget Sam’s threat; alerting the proprietor of the store that she had been kidnapped was going to be no easy task, with a gun trained on her the entire time. She only hoped that the person who owned the store was big and strong—or at least bigger and stronger than Sam.

As they slowed to a walk in front of the low building, she got a better look at the sign. Ned Sparks’ General Store She felt as if her whole future were in Ned Sparks’s hands

Sam eyed her cautiously. “You remember what I said?”

She straightened. “Of course.”

“Good. Get down—and don’t make any fast moves. And don’t talk unless whoever’s inside talks to you first. Understand?”

She gritted her teeth and nodded. Then she slipped off her horse. There was no other way to describe it. She put one leg back and lost her grip on the animal’s slippery hide and shot to the ground with a thud. As she landed, she half expected to hear gunfire, although that particular fast move hadn’t been intended. But instead, Sam appeared beside her and kindly yanked her back up to her feet.

“Sorry,” he said as she dusted her backside off heatedly. “I forgot that your excellent horsemanship might not extend to the fine art of dismounting bareback.”

“Never mind,” she muttered. She wasn’t going to argue with the man now. She needed him to think she was going to do exactly as he wanted. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“You first,” he said, gesturing for her to walk ahead.

With some trepidation, she pushed open the door of the little store. Once she got a look at the dark, dusty place, she was doubly certain that she needed to be rescued soon. She couldn’t imagine them buying anything there that she would actually want to eat.

“Well, hello there!” a voice cried out.

Millie looked around, but could see nothing — nothing besides old warped shelves stacked with dusty cans and jars, barrels full of who knew what, and bolts of mildewy cloth propped up against the walls. Finally, a head peeked over the long counter to her right — an old, wrinkled, bald head.

“You’re Ned Sparks?” Millie couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice. This was the man who was supposed to overcome her kidnapper and rescue her? Not likely! The man was seventy if he was a day — not to mention the fact that he was at least two inches shorter than she was.

Sam’s hand clamped firmly around her arm, a reminder of his don’t-speak-unless-spoken-to rule.

“Sure, I’m Ned,” the man replied genially, plainly not realizing his reply sank Millie’s hopes completely. “How do?”

“Just fine,” Sam said, his manner equally friendly. “We just stopped for a few provisions.”

“Are you the only person here?” Millie asked boldly, ready for gunfire. At this point, she hardly cared. She couldn’t believe her bad luck.

“Sure am, little lady. Would ya’ll be headed east or west?” Ned asked curiously.

“West,” Sam replied.

“Well... I just come from the east myself!” The man beamed a partially toothed smile at them. “Fort Worth. You folks are lucky you found the store open. Just got back this morning.”

“You don’t say?”

“Yessir. Got me a ride on a fast wagon yesterday. Drove all night.”

Sam nodded. Millie could feel the tension in his hand on her arm, the fear that this brush with the store proprietor was costing him. Was he worried that the man had heard about the kidnapping, Millie wondered, or was he concerned that she might blurt something out to the old man? If it was the latter, she would be perfectly willing to put Sam’s mind at ease. She didn’t see much point in trying to enlist the old fellow’s aid.

When Sam failed to respond further, Ned continued, “I was off visiting my married sister. Lives in Fort Worth. How ’bout you? Where out west are you headed, exactly?”

Sam hesitated, his mouth slightly opened, then blurted out, “We’re eloping.”

Millie shot him a shocked glance, her mouth agape. Not only had he not answered the man’s question, he’d come out with something totally unexpected. Yet she soon saw the wisdom in Sam’s improvisation. If he’d intended to get the proprietor’s mind off precise destinations, he couldn’t have said anything better. When she looked back at Ned, he was all smiles.

“How ‘bout that!” he cried. He let out a little whoop, then winked at Millie and leaned forward to whisper confidentially, “I was wonderin’ why he was holdin’ on to you so tight, but now I know. He’s scared a handsome fellow like me’s gonna steal his little bride away!”

He chortled merrily and winked again as Millie laughed limply along with him. Even Sam managed to force out a chuckle or two.

“Well, well,” Ned went on. “What can I get for ya?”

Sam smiled, relaxing a little at Millie’s continued silence. “Well, Ned,” he said, shooting her a satisfied smile, “we just stopped by to get the wife a little grub.”

“Don’t want to take time off from the honeymoonin’ to go huntin’, is that it?”

“How did you guess?” Sam replied, squeezing Millie around the waist.

Millie felt her face flame at the implication — as if she would honeymoon with a desperado! Yet at the same time, she kept her tongue. This poor old man didn’t know about her predicament, and couldn’t do anything about it even if he did. The best she could hope for at this point was some good food.

She scanned the dusty shelves, full of jars with questionable contents, hoping to see something that caught her eye. Instead, her gaze alit on something far more interesting.

“A newspaper!” she exclaimed.

Ned turned to it with interest. “Just brought it back from Fort Worth.”

“Would you mind if I read it some while my husband does the shopping?” she asked, squarely returning Sam’s unamused stare. “I’d like to see if anything was written about our elopement.”

Sam’s eyes sparked in warning, but Ned remained oblivious as he handed over his precious paper. “Go right ahead,” he urged. “Me and your husband will round you up some real nice vittles.”

Millie’s heart raced excitedly as they moved away, leaving her to leaf through the pages in private. There was sure to be news of her kidnapping from Fort Worth. If she could just figure out a way to scrawl a message across the newspaper, maybe the old man could help after all....

She didn’t have far to look. Prisoner Escapes in Chariton , the story beneath the fold on the first page began. The next line in bold read, Young Lady Abducted, Two Deputies Escape Attack Unharmed. Millie quickly scanned the story, looking for her name, which wasn’t mentioned. Just that she was a daughter of Old Lightfooted Lively. Now wasn’t that silly? How was anyone expected to find her if the paper didn’t print her name?

Her eyes were moving quickly across the page when suddenly she stopped, then looked back up, certain she had misread. Two Deputies... Unharmed.

Unharmed. But how could that be?

She had seen the “attack” with her very own eyes — had seen Sam brutally fell the two men, beating them repeatedly. They hadn’t moved a muscle after that. Not when he’d dragged them over to that tree and—

The blood drained out of her face so quickly that she thought for a moment that she might faint. She refolded the paper, then leaned back against the counter, attempting to gather her racing thoughts.

First he’d beaten the deputies. Then he’d dragged them to a tree and tied them up. Tied them up! Why would he have bothered to tie up two dead men? Or shoo away their horses?

The answer was so simple. They had never been dead at all. Sam hadn’t murdered anyone.

Oh, how could she have been so silly? How could she have made such a terrible misjudgment?

Across the small room, Sam and Ned conferred over various jars and kegs. At one point, Sam sent her a worried glance, as if he could tell that all was not right with her. But then he was forced to haggle with Ned over some sadlooking dried meat that made Millie’s stomach lurch once again.

This new development threw everything into confusion. Sam was innocent of what she’d accused him of. She had proof of that now. Was his story about his brother being innocent also true?

She looked again at Sam. His proud, straight back. His head of dusty hair, his sun-darkened skin, his intelligent gray eyes. Was he an honest man, as he had claimed? Could she have misjudged him so completely?

It appeared she had.

She blushed to think about the hateful things she had said to him, the names she had called him. So many times he had told her the truth and she had turned a deaf ear, unswerving in her certainty about what she had witnessed. Only what she had seen had been entirely wrong.

His gray eyes were watching her again, and his forehead was creased with worry. He was worried about her? Something in her breast fluttered, and she looked away, stunned by the suddenness of it all.

Sam was innocent. That didn’t change the fact that she was his hostage, of course, although it seemed to change practically everything else. How strange to think that she really had nothing to fear from Sam Winter after all. How strange... and how wonderful!