Carol Finch (16 page)

“Sweet mercy, woman, you’re killing me,” Rafe said on a jagged breath. “What you do to me should be against the law.”

Rafe closed his eyes and surrendered to the fiery explosion of pleasure that vibrated through him as he drove frantically into her. He had wanted to give her the sun—one shining beam at a time—the second time around. But his obsessive passion for her defied the self-discipline he had spent years perfecting and left him out of control.

Why was this feisty, defensive female the one who touched every carefully guarded emotion inside him? Maybe it was because she was so tempestuous and free that she appealed to the reckless side of his nature, which he had ignored for years.

Maybe it was her fearlessness, her passion for life, her indomitable spirit, her endearing determination to provide for her injured brother that touched him so deeply and completely. Or maybe it was her amazing smile, which affected every pixielike feature of her face, that had become his hopeless downfall.

Whatever the case, Rafe had been completely bewitched. Her name was on his lips as bulletlike sensations pelted him, driving him so deeply into her that he became a living, breathing part of her and she became an essential part of his being.

When a kaleidoscope of fiery ecstasy converged on him, Rafe’s legs threatened to fold up and leave him floundering in the stream. He shuddered helplessly as he clutched Karissa to him in the aftermath of passion beyond reason, beyond all previous experience, beyond his wildest imagination.

When he recovered his senses and his strength, he carried Karissa to solid ground and let her slide sensu
ously down his body. There weren’t words enough to convey what he was feeling so he kissed her tenderly and hoped she understood that being with her was incredibly special to him.

“I should go,” he whispered then kissed her again.

“I know,” she whispered back, before her warm lips skimmed over his in a tantalizingly sweet kiss.

“But I’ll be back,” he assured her. He dropped one last kiss to her swollen mouth. “If that’s all right with you.”

“It’s more than all right. I’d like that very much.” She glided her arms over his bare shoulders, pressed intimately against him and kissed him until he swore his eyes crossed and his body boiled into mush—again.

When Rafe finally gathered the willpower to release her, he was still fully aroused. She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and stared pointedly at him. Embarrassed for the first time since he couldn’t remember when, Rafe grabbed her hand and led her back to the campfire.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he teased her. “You are making a mockery of my gentlemanly restraint.”

She laughed impishly. “You don’t need my help on that count, General. Besides, I like you better when you’re out of control and out of uniform.”

Rafe pulled on his breeches—carefully. Then he grabbed his discarded shirt and jacket. “I would prefer that you bunk with Clint and Amanda,” he said as he put himself together hastily. “Then I won’t worry so much about you.”

“No,” she said as she shimmied into her cotton nightgown. “I’m staying here and that’s that.”

Rafe tucked his shirt into his breeches and stared her
down—not that it did one whit of good. He was sure the word
stubborn
had been invented to describe Karissa Baxter.

She grinned at him as she snuggled beneath the quilt. “Knowing what I know now, I have no intention of depriving Amanda and Clint of pleasure. Good night, Rafe,” she whispered.

Reluctantly Rafe walked uphill to retrieve his horse. Leaving Rissa alone was one of the most difficult things he had ever done. He wanted to stay with her all through the night, wanted to hold her against him and fall asleep with her nestled possessively in his arms. He also needed to know that she was safe from harm. But she wouldn’t hear of bedding down in the tent with Clint and Amanda.

He was definitely going to see that she had her own tent, he vowed as he rode through the darkness. He wished he could give her a castle fit for a princess. And that was saying a lot, because he had never invested so much emotion in a woman that he had felt compelled to lay the world at her feet.

During the ride back to the garrison, Rafe asked himself at what point his single-minded focus on his military career had shifted to that feisty but adorable female who had chosen him to be her first experience with passion.

And her second. All in the same night,
he thought as the intoxicating memories poured over him in waves and left him fully aroused during his ride to the post.

Cold fury blazed in Vanessa’s eyes while she stood at the window of her second-story quarters, watching the lone rider return to the garrison. She had recognized Rafe the instant he rode beneath the lantern that hung
outside the barracks. Damn him to hell for sneaking off to take a tumble with his tart.

Swearing, Vanessa whipped around to grab a gown. She had tried to prove her patience and devotion to Rafe by remaining at the fort, even after he had called off the wedding. She had assumed that he would tire of that shabbily dressed little nobody and realize that his marriage to Vanessa was not only expected but also sensible. He was a Hunter, after all. He had a family name to uphold.

Vanessa jerked open the door and stalked down the steps. She was so furious with the situation that she was halfway down the staircase when she remembered to glance this way and that. She did not want the patrolling guards to see her.

“Going somewhere, miss?”

Vanessa sagged with relief when she recognized the guard’s voice. Harlan, thank God. The very man she wanted to see. She grabbed his arm and tugged him into the shadows beneath the gallery of the mess hall.

“I am tired of waiting for you to make your move,” she muttered at him. “This liaison between Rafe and that trollop is making it impossible for me to arrange the wedding. You have to do something drastic and you need to do it now!”

“It’s already been taken care of,” Harlan assured her.

Vanessa snorted in contradiction. “If things have been taken care of, then why did I just see Rafe riding back to the fort? As if I don’t know where he’s been. And with whom! I paid you good money to get that tramp out of my way. I expect to see results!”

When her voice rose to a near shout, Harlan clamped his hand over her mouth. “Keep your voice down, damn it. Do you want to wake every man in the barracks?”

Vanessa slapped his hand away, appalled that this lowly soldier would dare touch her. He wasn’t fit to be within ten feet of her and he wouldn’t have been if she hadn’t had to resort to conspiring with him to achieve her goal.

“Why isn’t that harlot locked in jail somewhere?” she wanted to know. “You assured me that you would see her framed for crimes that even a woman would be punished for.”

“I said it’s been taken care of,” Harlan repeated gruffly.

“Of course it has.” she smirked. “Well, I’ve changed my mind. I want her away from here, away from Rafe. I don’t care what you do with her, but I want her to disappear. Surely you can find someone who will accept payment to haul her so far away that she can’t possibly return before I convince Rafe to go through with the wedding.”

“You have no patience, Vanessa,” Harlan snickered.

“I’ve had more than I should have.” She scowled at him. “See to the matter immediately.”

Harlan doubled over in a mocking bow then held out his hand. “You’ll need to make it worth my while.”

She stared at his outstretched hand, cursed under her breath then dug into her reticule for more money. “This is the last of it until after the wedding,” she informed him. “Now make that trollop disappear and make it quick!”

“Oh, it should be quick, all right,” he insisted as he walked away. “By tomorrow you should see results.”

“I damn well better,” she grumbled as she ascended the steps, a little lighter in the pockets—thanks to her association with the treacherous corporal.

R
afe glanced up from his desk when he heard footsteps approaching. Unease sluiced through him when he noticed Micah’s somber countenance. Rafe could tell by the expression and the way his friend held himself that he had come bearing bad news.

“Now what?” Rafe demanded as he slumped back in his chair.

“I just returned from Reno City,” Micah said. “Karissa Baxter has been arrested for the murder of a man named Arliss Frazier and his business associate, Sam Pickens.”

“What!”
Rafe was on his feet in less than a heartbeat.

Micah nodded stonily. “Two witnesses claimed they saw the confrontation. They described her clothes, her hair color and the horse she rode off on. They say she stole money and a pistol.”

“Son of a bitch,” Rafe hissed as he stalked toward the door.

“My sentiments exactly,” Micah muttered.

“Where is she?”

“The deputy marshal arrested her yesterday afternoon.” Micah fell into step behind him. “Jake is hold
ing her in custody with a bunch of men that he keeps strung together like a team of horses in that tent that serves as his office.”

Rafe grimaced at the thought of Karissa being tied up like an animal and left to defend herself against a crowd of ruffians. Which is why he had kept her separated when he hauled her in for squatting on that homestead before the Run.

For God’s sake, you didn’t tie up a temperamental but very attractive female with a bunch of hooligans! Jake Horton was damn well going to hear about this.

Fuming, Rafe jogged to the stable to fetch Sergeant. Micah was still one step behind him. “You stay here and keep this place under control,” Rafe commanded.

“Sorry to disobey your order,” Micah said as he slung a saddle on his horse. “But I’m going back to town with you. I already told Lieutenant Johnson to hold the fort. If worst comes to worst, you can distract Marshal Horton while I bust Karissa out of that makeshift jail.”

Rafe shot his friend a withering glance.

“Oh, right. I forgot,” Micah said. “We can’t break the laws we are supposed to enforce. Well, I’ve got news for you, Rafe. Someone has stirred up a bunch of self-appointed vigilantes who have decided that maybe Karissa should serve as an example in this new territory. They are ready to hang her, just to prove to the shysters and ruffians around here that no one, man or woman, is gonna get away with murder.”

Rafe gouged his steed and thundered through the gate. He didn’t care how much evidence was stacked against Karissa or how many witnesses claimed to have seen her blow Arliss Frazier and Sam Pickens to smithereens. He knew in his heart that she was innocent.

Yes, he believed she would defend herself if the need arose. Rafe had seen her do it twice. And yes, that sassy mouth of hers was twice the size of her curvaceous body, but she used her fiery tongue as a convincing bluff. It kept her alive and kicking when odds were against her. But she wouldn’t shoot two men down in cold blood, and commit robbery and theft, he assured himself. She might have been short on funds and without a weapon for protection, but she wouldn’t resort to such brutal means to acquire cash and a pistol.

When Sergeant began to labor, Rafe relented and drew the winded steed to a walk. He glanced sideways at Micah. “When did these murders take place?” he asked.

“Two nights ago,” Micah reported. “Just before dusk. According to the witnesses, they could see her plain as day when she shot her victims, stole the money from their pockets and rode off on a gray mare. Marshal Horton questioned several townsfolk who claimed they had overheard at least two arguments between Arliss and Karissa. Some even went so far as to say they saw her shove him off his feet and heard her threaten to kill Arliss.”

Rafe groaned aloud. Damn it to eternal hell! He had witnessed those shouting matches himself and he had chided Rissa for that public display of temper. She had claimed Arliss had provoked her too many times and he had purposely made her look bad to the passersby on the street.

Wasn’t this just perfect? Rafe thought irritably. He had planned to send a telegraph to his parents this very afternoon, informing them that he wasn’t marrying Vanessa because of his romantic interest in someone else.
Oh, and by the way, Father and Mother, the lady in
question is going to stand trial for a double murder. I plan to court her—if they don’t hang her first.

That should go over well with the Hunter family.

“Any thoughts?” Micah prompted, while Rafe stared into the distance.

“Yes, several of them,” Rafe muttered bitterly. “None of them good.”

“You can’t possibly believe this nonsense about Karissa,” Micah said, outraged. “True, she’s got a temper, but she wouldn’t do something like this.”

“
You
know that and
I
know that, but convincing Jake Horton might be another matter entirely.”

“Well, the least you can do is insist that she’s imprisoned in the stockade at the fort,” Micah suggested. “You can’t leave her in that chain gang with those hooligans. They’re a rough-looking bunch, Rafe. It’ll be a month before the court system is up and functioning around here. I don’t even want to think about what might happen to Karissa before she’s allowed to defend herself at a trial!”

Rafe didn’t want to think about that, either. Damn it, he couldn’t name one other instance in his life when he was tempted to lie through his teeth to provide someone with an alibi. He had been with Karissa later that evening in question, but he
hadn’t
been with her at dusk.

True, he could use the power of his position and throw his military weight around. In his attempt to save Rissa from legal proceedings, he would ruin her reputation by announcing that he had slept with her. He could provide false testimony and announce that he could personally account for her whereabouts from
dusk
to well past midnight.

And it would be an outright lie.

Scowling, Rafe nudged Sergeant into a trot. Outright
lying went against the grain. Plus, the night he had spent with Karissa had been incredibly special and satisfying. He didn’t want to spoil that magical moment by twisting the truth. And at the same time, he wanted to do whatever was necessary to have the charges against her dismissed.

Damn, talk about being stuck between the devil and the deep, he thought in dismay.

“Oh hell, things have gotten progressively worse since I left town,” Micah muttered when he noticed a dozen men and women toting homemade signs that demanded immediate justice and an unprecedented hanging in the new territory.

“A vigilante mob, for chrissake?” Rafe scowled as he dismounted then led his horse toward the marshal’s office.

He felt the urge to shove bodies out of his way to reach the makeshift jail, but he managed to show some self-restraint. He had to at least
appear
unbiased. But it was damn near impossible when feelings of protectiveness and outrage were spurting through him.

“Hang that female outlaw high!” someone shouted.

“Don’t matter if it’s a man or woman,” someone else hooted. “A murderer is a murderer. We demand justice!”

Rafe tethered his horse then ducked into the tent that served as the marshal’s office. Jake was half sprawled in his chair, drumming his fingers on the improvised table made of wooden planks and sawhorses.

“Damn glad to see you, Commander,” Jake said wearily. “I’m going to need military assistance to keep this town from blowing sky-high. These folks want that woman’s head.” He hitched his thumb over his broad
shoulder to indicate Karissa, who was hunched over on the ground, hands lashed to her ankles.

Rafe felt as if he had been gut-punched when he saw her huddled in the middle of several scraggly-looking men. The stench in the tent was almost enough to make his eyes water. When she finally raised her head to look at him, his heart shriveled in his chest.

Never in all their encounters and confrontations had he seen Karissa look quite so defeated. It was all he could do not to rush back to where she sat, hoist her to her feet and wrap her in his arms. But if he showed her preferential treatment, his credibility would be shot to hell and gossip would be flying around town—the same way it had sizzled at the fort when he had abandoned his own quarters to house his female prisoner.

Well, flying gossip at the garrison be damned. He couldn’t leave Karissa here. That crazed mob would likely get liquored up and come to fetch her. Jake Horton would be overpowered and Karissa would be swinging from the tallest tree in Reno City before Rafe could ride back to town to rescue her from calamity.

“I think it’s best if we hold your female prisoner at the fort,” Rafe announced authoritatively. “We are better equipped to forestall a riot than you are.” He inclined his head toward the canvas walls that flapped in the breeze. “All that needs to happen is for a few trigger-happy drunks to decide to blast holes in this tent. Everyone in here, you included, could be dead.”

“You’ll hear no objection from me,” Jake said as he came to his feet. He walked back to the chain gang to untie Karissa from the rest of the prisoners. With her hands and feet still shackled with rope, he ushered her forward. “But I don’t know how we’re going to get her out of here without inciting a riot.”

Micah cast Rafe a wry glance. “Old Indian trick.”

Rafe had been with Micah for so long that he could practically read his mind. He smiled for the first time in hours. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Micah nodded. “I’ll stall for a while.”

Rafe reached for his dagger to cut the rope that shackled Karissa’s ankles.

“What are you—?” Jake nodded in understanding when Rafe led his prisoner to the back of the tent then slithered under the canvas. “Let me guess, friend,” he said to Micah. “You’re going to saunter outside, pretending to wait for your fellow officer, who is supposedly having a lengthy conversation with me. When Rafe returns the same way he left and then walks out through the tent flap, no one will be the wiser.”

“You’ve got it, Horton.” Micah nodded as Rafe and Karissa disappeared from sight. “No one will know unless your prisoners decide to spill the beans.”

Jake glanced over his shoulder to stare down the prisoners. “Anyone who opens his mouth will become that vigilante mob’s consolation prize. They want blood. The drunker they get the less they’ll care whose blood is shed.”

The prisoners didn’t say a word. Micah was pretty sure that none of them thought this was a good day for a hanging. Especially if it turned out to be their own.

“You should have left me where I was,” Karissa whispered as she and Rafe belly-crawled through the tall grass behind the tent. “Any association with me is bound to be bad for your reputation.”

“Just keep quiet and let me worry about my reputation,” he muttered in her ear.

Karissa kept her mouth shut as they moved stealthily
away from the hustle and bustle of town. She got the impression this wasn’t the first time Rafe had slithered across the ground like a snake. Given his profession, he likely knew dozens of sly tricks to avoid detection while on patrol.

Although her arms and legs felt as if they were about to give out, having been hog-tied for more than a day, she refused to give up. Rafe seemed to prefer to err on the side of caution, because he didn’t come to his feet until they were surrounded in the thick underbrush that lined the North Canadian River.

The moment he pulled her up beside him, Karissa tilted her head back and stared him dead in the eye. “I know you probably don’t believe me, especially since Marshal Horton says the evidence is stacked heavily against me, but I didn’t kill either of those men. I
did
defend myself when Chester Gentry tried to steal my claim. And I did want to pound Arliss into the ground when he threatened to use my family to force me into selling out to him.”

Rafe studied her with such piercing scrutiny that she shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. Ordinarily she didn’t care what folks thought of her, but this was Rafe and she desperately wanted him to believe she wasn’t involved in the killings.

“I swear to you, Rafe, I wasn’t on Arliss’s property that night when the shooting took place. I was down by the stream. I fell asleep from exhaustion because I had been plowing our field all day because Clint isn’t able to do it. When I woke up I walked into the water to take a bath.” Her gaze faltered momentarily before she added, “And you know the rest.”

“Who are the two witnesses who claim to have seen you take the shots?” Rafe asked urgently.

“Marshal Horton didn’t say. I suspect it’s Chester Gentry and Delmer Cravens, the two other men who worked for Arliss. I saw them watching me from a distance several times the past week. I kept Clint’s rifle handy in case they tried to approach my family or me. You can question Clint and Amanda if you don’t believe me,” she offered. “They spotted them a time or two.”

“I believe you,” Rafe murmured.

Karissa slumped with relief and tears welled up in her eyes. Never in her life had she needed anyone’s acceptance as much as she needed his. Because
he
mattered to her the way no one else ever had.

“Well, at least when they hang me,” she said on a shaky breath, “I’ll rest easier knowing you don’t believe that I’m capable of taking someone’s life for the money in their pockets.”

“Not even in self-defense?” he asked as he stared solemnly into the distance. “They didn’t drag you off and force you to defend yourself?”

Karissa reared back as if he had slapped her. “Is that what you think? You believe I
might have
killed them in self-defense? You think I lied to you when I said I wasn’t there?”

“I didn’t say that, damn it,” Rafe grumbled.

Karissa was so hurt and outraged that she couldn’t prevent the tears from streaming down her cheeks. Damn him, he had been patronizing her, just to have her cooperation! He really didn’t believe her at all.

Obviously Rafe didn’t know her or understand what made her tick, what motivated her, what mattered to her. Oh, he had come to know her in the most intimate physical sense, but he still didn’t trust her completely. And it wasn’t as if their intimate night together was as sublimely special for him as it was for her.