THE OUTLAW AND THE LADY Read online

  "Sí."

  "And you won't tie my hands?"

  "I will not bind you in any way."

  She gave a brusque nod. "All right. You'll have my full and utmost cooperation."

  A slow smile eased over his face. Damn, but the woman laid out a convincing bluff. He was actually anticipating the journey.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  « ^ »

  Incensed, Angela flung a thousand silent curses at the man riding behind her. At least he'd bound her wrists together in front so she could grip the saddle horn. She couldn't believe he'd actually called her bluff.

  Or that he'd roughly shoved his hat onto her head once the sun had risen higher in the sky. She'd welcomed the shade it provided. With her fair complexion, she was prone to freckles, sunburn, and blisters. She'd always hated the freckles. When she was younger, she'd often wished that she didn't have to look at them. Too late, she'd learned to be careful of what she wished for.

  They rode at a steady pace. A quick burst of galloping, followed by a longer stint of walking. She hadn't expected a man with Raven's reputation to take such care with his horses, although when she thought about it, she realized the only thing abusing his animals would gain him was capture and the noosed end of a hangman's rope.

  Every rational bone in her body told her that she should be terrified, and for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why she wasn't. Perhaps it was the way he'd scolded Jorge for calling her a whore, or the manner in which he'd gotten after her for using profanity. An outlaw who worried about such matters … he was a puzzle and none of the pieces seemed to fit properly.

  She wished she could say the same thing about the way her body molded into his, but the truth was that it did fit with his … perfectly.

  She felt Raven draw back on the reins and was relieved that this bout of galloping was at an end. Although the slower pace wasn't much better, she had more success at holding her body away from his when the horse plodded along. At a gallop, Raven folded himself around her like a long-lost lover, his beard stubble catching in her hair from time to time.

  "We should probably alternate the woman between horses so yours is not overly burdened," a voice she didn't recognize announced.

  "Or you could just leave the burden right here," she snapped.

  "I think you offended her, Roberto," Raven said, his warm breath skimming along the nape of her neck, causing a delicious shiver to scurry down her spine. How did he effortlessly elicit this unwanted response in her?

  "Roberto is right. Your horse will not be able to keep up with ours if he has to constantly carry the extra weight," Alejandro said.

  "I am not that heavy!" she retorted, her anger growing to encompass each man, the entire intolerable situation, but most of all, Raven's damned constant breathing.

  "I think she prefers to stay with me, hombres," Raven said, and she could envision a satisfied smile on his dark face.

  "I prefer a rattlesnake," she said curtly. At least a serpent gave warning before it struck.

  "Then why do you argue against moving to another horse?" he asked.

  Why indeed? Because for reasons she could not fathom and did not really want to contemplate, she did feel safe within the enticing circle of his strong arms.

  "I need a moment of privacy," she announced to distract herself as much as them.

  "Again!" Roberto shouted. "You cannot possibly need time behind the bushes so soon."

  She angled her chin defiantly. "I'm sorry, but I've always had to … relieve myself frequently." The words were a lie, but she knew the blush burning her face was true. She didn't want to speak of bodily functions, but it was the only excuse she'd been able to come up with to slow their progress.

  "It has not even been an hour," Roberto said.

  He was obviously the complainer of the group. Raven never chastised her when she indicated that she needed time alone. She'd been able to convince him to stop six times now. The man was either a fool or more considerate than she cared to give him credit for. She turned her head slightly so he could see her licking her lips as though she was embarrassed by and sorry for her request.

  "I really can't wait much longer," she said in a low voice. "I'd hate to ruin your fine saddle."

  He brought the horse to a halt. His spurs clinked as his boots hit the ground. Bracketing her waist with his hands, he lifted her and lowered her slowly, very slowly, her body close enough to his that she was acutely aware of the heat radiating from his chest, actually heard the fabric of her dress rasping against the material of his shirt, and felt the warmth of his breath wafting across her cheek. That damned breath again. If he meant to disconcert her, he was accomplishing his goal with remarkable deftness.

  As soon as her feet were planted firmly on the ground, she stepped away, decidedly uncomfortable with the proximity of Raven's body. Too near because somehow the fact that they weren't on his horse made him that much more threatening.

  Just as he had each time before, he placed his hand on her back with a surety that no doubt came from knowing an abundance of women. "This way, señorita."

  A pang of guilt shot through her as he guided her away from the others, toward what she knew would be a secluded area. Most people took her arm and walked her as though she were a favored pet, not an independent woman. It was uncanny the way Raven would subtly press on one side of her back or the other to ensure that she sidestepped objects.

  He removed his hand from her back. Halting, she lifted her bound hands. He untied the bandanna from her wrists.

  "Am I hidden?" she asked in as meek a voice as she could muster.

  "Sí."

  She listened to his retreating footsteps before quickly circling the small area. She located a tree and the nearby brush. She rustled her skirts to give the impression that she was lifting them, and then she very slowly, very quietly, eased her way to the ground. With a triumphant smile, she reached into her pocket, withdrew her beloved deck of cards, and settled in to play three games of patience.

  Her goal was to slow them down until they had no choice but to leave her behind or be captured. A dangerous undertaking that carried risks … and a measure of unanticipated excitement.

  She certainly couldn't classify the last twelve hours as dull. No, dull was sitting beside a window with only the warm sunlight for company and having her meticulous stitches earn praise from the owner of the shop where she worked.

  Now, she was being challenged as she'd never been before, striving to anticipate Raven's goals and seeking ways to thwart him. Without a doubt, she wanted to be free of him, and yet a part of her welcomed the opportunity to outsmart him, to put him in his place atop the gallows. To prove to herself and the world that she didn't need anyone in order to survive. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

  Of course, the fact that she was in this predicament to begin with might detract from her victory, should she ever achieve it.

  "Señorita, we don't have all day!" Roberto yelled.

  "I'm trying to hurry," she sang back, laying out her last row of cards.

  She heard footsteps growing louder, then fainter, as though someone was pacing a short distance behind her—no doubt Raven, waiting for her to announce she was finished. She turned over the top card.

  The ultimate satisfaction would reside in capturing him herself. Although even if she somehow managed to meet that goal, she wasn't certain how she would deliver him anywhere.

  More often than not, she considered her blindness a minor inconvenience, but sometimes it proved a definite disadvantage. The most she could realistically hope for was escape. The sooner the better, because the farther she traveled from home, the less likely she thought it that he would keep his promise and return her to her family.

  Why would a notorious outlaw even bother to make such a promise? He obviously put his needs first; otherwise, he would never have abducted her.

  As for Raven's concern about her welfare … she didn't trust him. He had ano
ther motive in mind, no doubt the ransom he'd mentioned earlier. Her father would pay handsomely for her return, and her mortification would be complete with the undeniable evidence that her independence was little more than an invisible thread tethering her to family and home.

  As she placed the eight of hearts on the nine of spades, she heard a pop and froze. It couldn't be Raven. No approaching footsteps had provided warning of his imminent return, and she'd definitely heard his retreat. Her active imagination was running wild. Slowly releasing her tension, she turned over another card.

  "The blackjack—" Raven began.

  She yelped at his irascible voice, near enough that the air shimmied.

  "Goes on the red queen," he finished.

  He plucked the card from her fingers. Anger shot through her with the intensity of a thunderstorm. "You promised me privacy."

  "You swore you were going to ruin my saddle." He snatched the deck from her hand.

  "Give those back to me! They're mine!"

  "I think you have played enough, señorita, with the cards and with me."

  For the first time, she actually heard rage slithering through his voice as though he'd spoken with his teeth clenched.

  "Get up!" he ordered in a voice that announced he'd brook no argument.

  Still, she licked her lips and decided to try to squirm her way out of his bad favor. "I can explain. You see, I have to relax before I can—"

  She shrieked as he unexpectedly grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet. "You will have the remainder of the day to relax."

  The fury shimmering off him was palpable as he marched her away from her sanctuary, his hold on her arm firm but not bruising. She felt his gun brush against her leg. He was left-handed. Another tidbit of information to store away and share with Kit Montgomery, who she was certain would welcome anything she could add to his knowledge regarding this outlaw. She swept her free hand across her stomach, closer to his hip. If she could just grab his gun … she knew she wouldn't have much time, but if she caught him unawares—

  "Hey, Lee, what is that cloud of dust rising up behind us?" Jorge asked.

  She was jarred as Raven turned, no doubt to look over his shoulder, and provided her with an unexpected opportunity to fall, seemingly innocently, against him. She curled her fingers around the smooth handle, twisted her body to block any attempt he made to stop her, and managed to draw the revolver from his holster. He swore harshly as she broke free of his grasp and backed up quickly, gripping the handle with both hands as she pointed the barrel toward the last place where she knew he'd stood.

  "I know how to use this, so nobody move." She heard saddles creak and footsteps. She waved the gun wildly in a circle. "Nobody move!"

  "Be still!" Raven yelled.

  She zeroed in on the location of his voice and steadied the gun. "My father taught me how to handle a gun effectively, and I'm not afraid to pull the trigger. You can well imagine that the bright red hue of blood will not make me squeamish." She swallowed hard, trying to calm her own breathing as she listened intently for any signs of movement. "I don't want to shoot anyone. I just want to be left here. Is that cloud of dust riders?"

  "Sí."

  Raven. He was still directly in front of her. "It's probably men that my father sent to find me," she hastily explained. "So get on your horses and ride. Just leave me."

  "The posse's nearness is an illusion, señorita," he said quietly, as though she could see the cloud of dust his brother had mentioned.

  She wished she could hold them all—or at least keep Raven here—but she wasn't foolish enough to believe she could avoid them overtaking her for long. If they had any intelligence, they'd soon realize that by creating noisy distractions, they could force her to shoot at phantoms until she'd exhausted the small supply of bullets.

  Although she wasn't certain Raven would risk his brothers in that dangerous endeavor. When he spoke to them, his voice carried an undercurrent of affection, completely at odds with what she knew of the outlaw. Inwardly, she shook off the fleeting thought. She didn't need anything to distract her. She had to ensure that he didn't send his brothers on and then play the game with her.

  Why hadn't she heard him approach her while she was waiting in the bushes? Could he move that stealthily, or had she been concentrating too much on her wayward thoughts that had continually drifted to him? Was he walking toward her now? It was far too quiet. She waved the gun in a wide circle. "Don't move!" she ordered.

  "I'm not moving, señorita," Raven replied.

  "Keep talking so I know exactly where you are."

  "So you can shoot me?"

  She nodded jerkily. "I swear you'll be the first one. Now talk."

  "What do you want me to say? You tell me to get on my horse and ride away, then you tell me not to move. I cannot do both. Which do you want?"

  He was talking too loudly, using too many words. "I want to know where everyone is."

  "My brothers are on their horses."

  "Not all of them. I heard at least one dismount." He and Alejandro seemed closer. Jorge and Roberto simply followed orders. "Alejandro. Alejandro got off his horse."

  "Now, why would he do that?"

  She tightened her hold on the gun. "I swear to God that I will shoot if each man does not call out his name."

  "No one speaks!" he ordered. "No one but me. I will not allow them to become targets. If you want to shoot, señorita, shoot, but I warn you now that it is not a good thing to aggravate me. I am a man of limited patience, and when that patience—"

  Someone grabbed the gun. Reflexively, she squeezed the trigger and an explosion ripped through the air as the weapon was torn from her hands.

  "Good work, Alejandro," Raven said as he snared her arm, his voice exuding controlled rage.

  She tried to fight him off, but again his strength put her at a disadvantage. He caged her within the circle of his arms while he wrapped the hated bandanna around her wrists. "Please—"

  "No!" he barked.

  When she was secured, he shoved her away and she teetered backward, nearly losing her balance. Hearing metal glide against leather, she realized Alejandro had returned Raven's gun to him. Panic seized her with the thought of losing what might be her sole chance for rescue. "Don't you see that the longer you keep me, the more I'll discover about you? I know you're left-handed."

  "No, he's—"

  "Jorge!" Raven yelled. "Let her think what she will"

  She backed up a step as the fight drained out of her. "Or you wear two guns."

  "Very wise, señorita, but not wise enough. My other gun was aimed at you the entire time. Endanger my brothers again with your childish games, and you will feel the bite of my bullet."

  She was astonished that he hadn't automatically fired his weapon when her gun's retort had ripped through the air. The man appeared to be a master of restraint, and yet he had killed a man and abducted her. "Why do you insist on keeping me?"

  "Because I do not know the men who follow. Mount up," Raven ordered.

  "But, Lee—" Alejandro began.

  "Mount up," Raven repeated. He put his hands on her waist—just as he had every time before—with a gentleness that astounded her. He lifted her, and with a sinking heart, she grabbed the pommel as he placed her on the saddle. It shifted while he took his place behind her.

  Raven urged the horse into a gallop. Angela heard the pounding hooves of his brothers' horses beating unmercifully at the ground. She wanted to beg Raven to stop, to leave her to the safety of the men who followed.

  Surely, once she gained her freedom, Raven and his brothers would be left to escape in peace. She was certain her father had hired the men who were following them, and he would hire men who would not stop until she was returned home.

  But she understood with an uncanny certainty that Raven wasn't in the mood to listen to her pleas. Her botched escape stung her pride. She should have killed him while she had the chance, and for the life of her, she couldn't understand why she
hadn't.

  * * *

  Standing within Fortune's only bank, Harrison Bainbridge had taken an immediate dislike to Vernon Shelby when the man had strutted into the building like a bloody peacock. In small ways that he couldn't quite put his finger on, the stout fellow reminded Harrison of the jawhawker, his wife's former lover, who had crippled him years before.

  "What in the hell did Raven look like?" Shelby demanded of Howard Sims, the bank president, who sat behind his desk, cracking his knuckles one at a time. Harrison recognized the balding man's telling habit. He was holding nothing of importance.

  "They were already in the shadows of the alley by the time I spotted them." Sims gave Harrison a beseeching look from behind his thick spectacles. "I knew that they had a woman with them, but I thought they were just a group of cowboys looking for a little innocent sport. I didn't hear the woman hollering, so I figured she was willing. It never occurred to me that she might be Angela, not until you reported her missing early this morning. And I had no idea whatsoever who they were until I found this damned note when I opened the bank for business."

  "You didn't notice anything amiss last night when you came here?" Harrison asked.

  Forlornly, he shook his head. "The vault door was closed and locked. I just came in to get some money to take to your tables, but they didn't steal enough for me to notice. I didn't even glance at my desk."

  "And you're certain that the note has Raven's signature on it?" Harrison asked Shelby.

  Shelby glared at him. "Do I look like I'm prone to wading into a river so I can drink standing up? Of course I'm certain. He even left the damned black feather, the conceited bastard."

  Gripping his cane until his knuckles turned white, Harrison glanced at his wife, standing at the window, gazing out. It constantly amazed him to discover that when he awoke each morning, he loved her more than he had the day before. He wished to God that he could spare her this anguish.

  "Based upon this discussion, I suppose we can accurately deduce that the man was Raven and the woman was Angela." Woman. To him she still was, and would always be, his little girl.