still drinkable. At
least there would be shade and a good place to set up camp.
"I thought you weren't coming, Papa," she murmured
against his chest. He resisted the urge to comfort her, to smooth the damp hair
from her face and soothe the crease of pain on her forehead.
"Please don't ever leave me like that again," she
pleaded in a childish voice. "I'll be good, I promise."
Nudging his horse into a walk, he held her closer against
him. He told himself it was to keep her from falling, but something in her
helplessness and her determination touched a part of his heart he'd thought
long dead.
Swallowing convulsively, he tried to remember that she was a
complication and nothing more.
* * * * *
The sun had been down an hour before the girl stirred, sat
up, and looked around in confusion. Rafe said nothing, just continued stirring
the beans in the pot over the fire. Her eyes bore a hole in him. She didn't
seem exactly happy to wake up and find she'd been rescued by him. He couldn't
say he blamed her, but still it annoyed him. He could have left her there to
die on the side of the road. He could have done a lot worse.
He ladled a plateful of beans and took them to her with long,
impatient strides.
"It was me or the buzzard," he told her.
"Sometimes you have to take what you can get."
She sat where he'd propped her against his saddle, her hair
in disarray around her shoulders, her clothes covered with a thin coat of Texas
dust. She gazed up at him and the plate he held out to her without
comprehension.
"Maybe you would have preferred the buzzard," he
said. At least she was alive. Now she was about to tell him everything he
wanted to know about Luis Demas and a million dollars in gold, whether she knew
it or not.
Finally she moved, dropping her gaze to the plate he pushed
toward her, crossing her arms over her chest, and turning away.
For a long moment, he studied her delicate profile, her soft
skin marred by the ravages of the sun. Her arms folded beneath her breasts
caused her chemise to gape open, drawing his gaze to the hint of creamy white
flesh beneath. He swallowed hard and used annoyance to control his body's
reaction.
"Here, eat this." He held the plate of beans out to
her again, but she continued to ignore him. "This might not be up to your
usual standards, but you have got to eat something. If you refuse, I'll have to
feed you myself."
She jerked her head around, glaring at him. When her first
attempt at speech yielded nothing but a hoarse croaking sound, she cleared her
throat and tried again. "You wouldn't."
"Do you really want to find out?"
She still refused to take the plate. "What are you doing
here?"
He held out the plate silently, determined not to speak until
she took it. Finally, she accepted the food with an angry sigh.
"You're welcome." He walked across the small camp and
taking the bean pot from the fire, sat across from her, using the wooden
stirring spoon to eat directly from the pot.
"You've been following me since San Antonio," she
said.
Rafe blew on a spoonful of beans to cool it and watched her
as he ate. The warm glow of the fire reflected in her eyes and seemed to set
her pale silver-blonde curls ablaze. Even in the dark, he could see the redness
of her skin. She would suffer in the morning.
"It's a good thing for you I was following you," he finally replied. "You know, in some
countries if someone saves your life, you become their slave forever."
"Why are you following me?"
His gaze slid down her neck to her breasts beneath the stark
white fabric of her chemise. He'd removed the ridiculous coat and large man’s shirt
she’d been wearing so she could get air. He'd even mopped her heated face and
chest with his wet kerchief. The chemise was still damp and clung to her in a
way that made his blood grow warm.
Even if there hadn't been a million dollars in gold and El Alacran's scalp to consider, she would have been worth
chasing into the wilderness. Whether he would have done so or
least there would be shade and a good place to set up camp.
"I thought you weren't coming, Papa," she murmured
against his chest. He resisted the urge to comfort her, to smooth the damp hair
from her face and soothe the crease of pain on her forehead.
"Please don't ever leave me like that again," she
pleaded in a childish voice. "I'll be good, I promise."
Nudging his horse into a walk, he held her closer against
him. He told himself it was to keep her from falling, but something in her
helplessness and her determination touched a part of his heart he'd thought
long dead.
Swallowing convulsively, he tried to remember that she was a
complication and nothing more.
* * * * *
The sun had been down an hour before the girl stirred, sat
up, and looked around in confusion. Rafe said nothing, just continued stirring
the beans in the pot over the fire. Her eyes bore a hole in him. She didn't
seem exactly happy to wake up and find she'd been rescued by him. He couldn't
say he blamed her, but still it annoyed him. He could have left her there to
die on the side of the road. He could have done a lot worse.
He ladled a plateful of beans and took them to her with long,
impatient strides.
"It was me or the buzzard," he told her.
"Sometimes you have to take what you can get."
She sat where he'd propped her against his saddle, her hair
in disarray around her shoulders, her clothes covered with a thin coat of Texas
dust. She gazed up at him and the plate he held out to her without
comprehension.
"Maybe you would have preferred the buzzard," he
said. At least she was alive. Now she was about to tell him everything he
wanted to know about Luis Demas and a million dollars in gold, whether she knew
it or not.
Finally she moved, dropping her gaze to the plate he pushed
toward her, crossing her arms over her chest, and turning away.
For a long moment, he studied her delicate profile, her soft
skin marred by the ravages of the sun. Her arms folded beneath her breasts
caused her chemise to gape open, drawing his gaze to the hint of creamy white
flesh beneath. He swallowed hard and used annoyance to control his body's
reaction.
"Here, eat this." He held the plate of beans out to
her again, but she continued to ignore him. "This might not be up to your
usual standards, but you have got to eat something. If you refuse, I'll have to
feed you myself."
She jerked her head around, glaring at him. When her first
attempt at speech yielded nothing but a hoarse croaking sound, she cleared her
throat and tried again. "You wouldn't."
"Do you really want to find out?"
She still refused to take the plate. "What are you doing
here?"
He held out the plate silently, determined not to speak until
she took it. Finally, she accepted the food with an angry sigh.
"You're welcome." He walked across the small camp and
taking the bean pot from the fire, sat across from her, using the wooden
stirring spoon to eat directly from the pot.
"You've been following me since San Antonio," she
said.
Rafe blew on a spoonful of beans to cool it and watched her
as he ate. The warm glow of the fire reflected in her eyes and seemed to set
her pale silver-blonde curls ablaze. Even in the dark, he could see the redness
of her skin. She would suffer in the morning.
"It's a good thing for you I was following you," he finally replied. "You know, in some
countries if someone saves your life, you become their slave forever."
"Why are you following me?"
His gaze slid down her neck to her breasts beneath the stark
white fabric of her chemise. He'd removed the ridiculous coat and large man’s shirt
she’d been wearing so she could get air. He'd even mopped her heated face and
chest with his wet kerchief. The chemise was still damp and clung to her in a
way that made his blood grow warm.
Even if there hadn't been a million dollars in gold and El Alacran's scalp to consider, she would have been worth
chasing into the wilderness. Whether he would have done so or
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