Anything for You (29 page)

When he had undone the buttons along the front of her coat, he ordered, with another laugh, “Take it off, Gypsy.”

“For the love of heaven, it's barely above freezing.”

He chuckled as he scraped the knife up her neck. “You won't have to worry about being cold. I'll keep you warm before you spend the rest of eternity in Hell.”

At the deranged sound of his laughter, she slowly lowered her coat down her arms. She kept her eyes locked with his. When the time came to fight, she would, but she refused to die arguing over her coat. It fell with a thump to the ground behind her. The frigid wind bit through her thin blouse. When she started to wrap her arms around herself, he crushed her against the tree. Her breath exploded in a pained gasp.

“I told you, you needn't worry about being cold, Gypsy.”

Something about his rich voice teased her with familiarity. But who? She could not guess. Her mind was crippled with terror.

Spreading her hands along the snow-pitted bark of the tree, she whispered, “Why don't you stop before this goes too far?”

“Too far? Gypsy, my girl, I wouldn't send you to your grave a maiden. Or am I too late? Lassiter has been slobbering over you. Has he bedded you?”

“My private life is none of your business!”

“It is now.” He laughed again. When she turned her face away from his putrid breath, he used the flat side of the blade to force her lips beneath his.

As his mouth ground into hers, demanding an intimacy she had offered only to Adam, his fingers slipped around her waist. He pulled her away from the tree. When she raised her hands, he tipped the knife beneath her jaw again.

“Stop!” Her words became a shriek as he shoved her backward. Falling into the snow, she rolled to jump up.

He seized her arm and pushed her into the icy embrace of a drift. Flakes sifted into her face, blinding her. He groped for the high collar of her blouse. Her heel struck his knee. Tottering back, he cursed viciously. She leaped to her feet.

His broad arm encircled her waist. She was flung to the ground, her skirt tearing. Gasping for breath, she stared up at him. He stood over her with one foot on either side of her skirt. With a laugh, he kneeled. She cringed as his legs brushed hers.

Again the knife appeared, only inches from her face. “Don't make me angry, Gypsy. Then I'd have to kill you now.”

“I'm not going to let you rape me!”

“No?” He gripped her collar. When the material refused to rip, he swore.

She flinched as he slit the front of her blouse away from the stubborn collar. Knowing what she risked, she raised her hand to block his.

His smile vanished. “I told you to cooperate, Gypsy!”

He curled his fingers into a fist.

It was caught in a wide hand and jerked back. “Let her go!”

“Adam!” Gypsy screamed. “Look out!”

Adam jumped aside when the knife slashed toward him. He lifted his clenched hands and brought them down on the man's wrist. The man's howl sliced through the silent woods, and the knife skidded through the snow.

The attacker hit Adam.

Adam rocked back a few steps. He shook his head groggily and hefted his fists. Gypsy shrieked. When the man turned, Adam grabbed him by the arm. Gypsy's warning was too late. The man laughed as he clubbed Adam over the head with a branch. Adam collapsed into the snow.

She scrambled on all fours through the drift, her tattered clothes tripping her. Even as she heard maniacal laughter behind her, she found the knife. She gripped its hilt. She whirled as the man lifted the branch to strike Adam a death blow.

“No!” She struggled to her feet. “Get away from him!”

The man swung the branch at her. She tried to evade it, but the end caught her elbow. The knife flipped end over end to disappear into the shadows. Pain thundered through her. Had he broken her arm?

She backed away, not daring to glance at Adam. The man grasped her arm. When she sobbed in agony, he released her to fold up at his feet. He gripped her hair and yanked her head backward at a painful angle.

“Next time, Gypsy, we won't be interrupted.”

His laughter remained behind as he vanished. Ignoring the tears that ran along her face, she crawled through the snow's smothering softness to where Adam still lay. He must be alive. She dropped next to him. He was face down. Turning him over onto his back would take more strength than she had.

“Adam,” she whispered. “Please wake up, Adam.”

She shook him with the strength she had remaining. They must get back to camp. To stay in the snow would mean freezing to death. “Adam, you must wake up! Please!”

Slowly his head rose. He shook it and moaned.

“Adam?”

He turned toward her. Even in the twilight, she could see astonishment in his eyes. His arm swept out and pulled her to him. A smile pulled at his lips in the moment before he captured hers.

A strangled scream erupted from her throat as she pulled away. Confusion returned to his eyes as he sat up. “What happened to you, Gypsy?”

“Just help me back to camp,” she whispered. She swallowed her pain as she stretched to grab her coat. Swinging it over her shredded blouse, she fought her way to her feet. She swayed and leaned against a tree.

In a motion as wobbly, he rose. With his hand against the back of his head, he mumbled, “If this is a hangover, I hope the rotgut was worth it. Who was it, Gypsy?”

Startled by his sharp, suddenly lucid question, she whispered, “I don't know. Someone in camp. No one else would have come all the way up here just to …”

“To murder you?” He laughed, then grimaced. “I must be getting soft to be taken down so quickly.” Lurching to her, he gasped when she cowered away. “What's wrong?”

Her hands trembled when she tried to button her coat. “Adam, just take me home.”

“After you explain why you act as if you've never been in my arms before.”

“But he—he—”

Adam's jaw tightened, and he pulled her coat closed, securing the top button. “He didn't, honey. You're safe.”

“Am I?”

“You are! He's gone.”

When he wiped frozen tears from her cheek, she buried her face against his ripped coat. He stroked her messed hair as she shivered.

He found Gypsy's bonnet and placed it on her head. His eyes would not focus, but he managed to tie a lopsided bow under her chin. When she winced, he knew he was not the only one hurt.

Fury cut through him. He had let the fool knock him senseless. His skull still rang. Then that cur had hurt Gypsy. She could have been raped or killed or both while he slept in a snowbank.

“Adam,” she whispered, “he said he's coming back.”

“He'd have to be crazy to try this again.”

Her voice splintered. “He's mad. He vowed to finish what you interrupted.”

“Don't worry, honey. We'll be prepared.” Rubbing his head, he smiled grimly. “He won't escape next time.”

“I don't want to talk about next time. Just take me back to the cookhouse, Adam.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and staggered as they walked slowly along the path. “You sure you can walk?” he asked.

“Are you sure you can?” Gypsy returned when he swayed against her.

He might have smiled if his jaw would stop throbbing. “Not much of a hero, am I?”

“We're both alive.”

“And we're getting out of here.”

She shook her head and winced. “No, I can't leave.”

Pausing, he said, “Why not?” When she hesitated, he said, “I think it's time for honesty.”

“From both of us.”

Reluctantly he nodded. “I just hope it's not too late.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The kitchen was deserted when Adam opened the door and helped Gypsy in. She looked at the knife rack. The empty slot was an accusation, but the knife her attacker had used was not the missing one. It had been one of the hunting knives the jacks wore on their belts.

Awkwardly she undid her coat. Adam lifted it off her shoulders, and she moaned. The pain centered around her right elbow. With every motion of her arm, she ached from her wrist to her shoulder.

As she held her ripped blouse closed, Adam cursed. “I'm sorry I didn't teach that son of—”

“Adam, don't.”

He frowned. “You've heard me say worse.”

“You can call him whatever you want, but I don't want to hear it. I don't want to think about it. I just want to forget.”

“You can't.” His voice became more gentle as he brushed a shred of her sleeve back over her shoulder. “Why don't you change? If the others saw you like this, I'm not sure I could keep them from getting together a lynching mob.”

“And lynch who?” she whispered as she hurried to her door.

“I'll load the stove,” he called after her.

Wobbling across her bedroom, Gypsy pulled off her ragged blouse. Tears clung to her eyelashes. She pushed them away and tossed the ruined blouse onto the floor. She wanted to throw it into the cast-iron stove. She had burned the notes there, but she had not succeeded in fleeing from the truth. Now she had dragged Adam into the horror.

Her fingers were clumsy with fear as she tried to button the high collar of her nightgown. Slipping her arms into her bulky wrapper, she grimaced as the collar slapped her face. She looked into her small mirror and saw a bruise on her left cheek. Her elbow pulsed with pain.

Footsteps sounded beyond the door. She whirled at a knock. “Who is it?”

“Adam.”

“Go away!” Somehow she had to keep him safe. She had no idea how, other than forcing him out of her life.

The door burst open and slammed against the wall. His face could have been carved from stone.

“Adam!”

“No more games, Gypsy.” He closed the door. In the dim light from the lantern, the bandage he had put over the bloody spot on his forehead glistened obscenely. “At least you showed sense in getting your nightgown on. Why aren't you in bed?”

He scooped her up into his arms before she could protest. Gently, he placed her on her bed. He drew the blankets over her thick wrapper and placed her pillow against the headboard.

“You sit here.” He leaned on the footboard. “I'll sit here, and we can talk without everyone hearing.”

Gypsy entwined her fingers and fought to keep her tears from falling. Here, where she should think only of the ecstasy she found in Adam's touch, evil had invaded. She yearned for Adam to put his arms around her and tease the fear from her, but that could not be.

She must convince him to leave. If the only way she could do that was by being honest, she must reveal the truth. She prayed it would not destroy him.

“Tell me what happened,” he ordered when she remained silent.

“When?”

His brows rose, but he said only, “Start with today.”

“I got a message to meet Farley at his house.” She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Farley has never been interested in work after he closes the office for the day. I thought it might be different … now.”

He laughed shortly. “Exactly what your charming friend wanted you to think. You walked right into his trap.”

“How was I supposed to know?” she countered with sudden heat. “Who here would want to harm me? After all, the men depend on me to feed them. That inspires a certain loyalty.”

“In all but one man.” He put his hand on hers. “Forgive this question, but it must be asked. Is there a jack who believed you'd be interested in an assignation? I've seen how they look at you, Gypsy.”

“Do you think I'd arrange a tryst when—” It was the wrong time to speak of how she had fallen in love with him. Pointing to her bruised cheek, she asked, “Do you think I'd arrange a tryst with a man who'd treat me like this?”

“Perhaps he was disappointed when I interrupted. I would have been.”

“Adam!”

He smiled an apology. “I'm only asking the questions others will. A woman alone on a deserted road just before dark meets a man. When the rendezvous is intruded upon, the scene becomes ugly, for her would-be lover assumes she's invited this other man, as well.”

“Except that he planned to kill me. Lust for sex is different than lust for murder.”

Adam released her hand and rested his shoulder against the footboard. Amusement sparkled in his eyes, but his voice was somber. “I won't ask how you know that.” He sighed. “You must be extra cautious of anything unusual—like those notes you've been getting from Saginaw.” He added, without contrition, “I read one while you were sick.”

“What did it say?”

“Does it matter? It tipped me off to the fact that you're in more trouble than you want anyone to know.” He tipped her face up so she had to meet the apprehension in his eyes. “Don't run off by yourself again. Take someone with you.”

“Who? That man could have been anyone.”

He took her hands in his and lifted them to his lips. “You can trust me, honey. I'm going to have the scars to prove it.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I should have said that before.”

When he offered her a gallant bow, he clenched his head and swore. “He would have killed me if my head weren't so hard.” He sat next to her and sandwiched her hands between his. “Gypsy, when I think about him touching you, I want to castrate him.”

“Touching me would have been the least of his crimes.”

“Perhaps, but it's the most heinous one to me.”

Gypsy found it easier to smile than she had expected when she ran her fingers along Adam's whisker-roughened cheek. “I never guessed you'd be a jealous lover.”

His arm swept around her waist and pulled her to him. “I'm jealous of any man who looks at you. I want to hoard away all your smiles for myself. I want every glow in your green eyes to be just for me.”