Child Bride (11 page)

“Why did you do that?” she demanded.

“To get your attention.” He threw her sweater over the saddle horn of the mare. “What is it you’re afraid of, Annie? The whip? There’s no need.”

He looked like some kind of desperado with his black hair flying in the breeze and the black kerchief he wore tied loosely around his neck. Taking him in all at once, Annie found her eyes drawn to the way he was standing, one leg cocked and his faded blue jeans stretched tight across his hips.

“Of course there’s need,” she said, clutching a hand to her midriff, where the sweater had been tied. “Whips are dangerous. People get hurt.”

“Not with this whip.” His eyes brushed over her breasts, lingering there a moment. “I could undo every button of that shirt you’re wearing, and you’d never feel a thing.”

She stepped back, her throat constricting painfully. “That’s insane. You wouldn’t—”

“Easy does it now,” he said, shaking the whip out. “I’m not going to hurt you. Just stand very still.”

“No! Chase, no!” she cried as he drew the handle back.

“
Annie!
Stand still!”

“Oh, God!” She closed her eyes, terrified as he brought up his arm and the flash of black lightning cracked in the air high over her head. She began to tremble, a shock wave moving through her body like a thunderbolt. And then there was a rush of something that sounded like water roaring in her ears.

Just as she opened her eyes, he threw the whip again, aiming for her this time, and she felt a heat and a power beyond description as the thong coiled softly around her middle and yanked her forward. A scream locked in her throat.

“Easy does it, Annie. You’re okay.”

His voice echoed distantly, part of the thunder as she stumbled toward him, drawn by his muscular power on the whip, and by some other terrifying force that stormed through her like a roaring wind. The landscape blurred, and Chase’s dark eyes penetrated her consciousness, the only thing she could see for a moment. She grabbed hold of the leather thong like a lifeline, pitching forward as he tugged at it.

“Don’t fight the whip, Annie. You’ll make it tighter.”

By the time she reached him, she was shaking and half-drunk on the river of adrenaline gushing through her system. The whip loosened, slithering to the ground, and she would have slithered with it, if he hadn’t caught her.

“Here—I’ve got you,” he said, taking her into his arms. “Grab hold of me.”

She clung to him weakly, only vaguely aware of taut muscles and male power, and of the long line of his body as she pressed herself up against him. Such heat, she thought, soaking up the warmth he gave off. Such blessed strength. She knew she ought to be angry, furious even, that he had so deliberately frightened her, but she didn’t have the energy for it. She’d been sapped of every ounce of strength. All that was left was a quaking need to be held, to be enveloped by his sheltering arms.

Gradually she became aware of the way she’d locked herself to him, of his heartbeat and his breathing, of his stony thigh muscles and hipbones. But most of all she reveled in the way his arms encompassed her, one bracing her shoulders, the other locked firmly around her waist. Within moments the power of his hold had matched, then begun to subdue, the awesome, seemingly destructive power inside her.

“See there,” he said, his hand cradling her head against his chest as he caressed her hair. “You’re okay, Missy. You didn’t feel a thing, did you?”

“I don’t like whips,” she said, a sob in her voice.

“So I gather. Sorry if I frightened you.”

“Sorry?”
She looked up at him, wishing fervently that she could summon some anger, just enough to swear at him—a couple of soul-satisfying four-letter words would do. Sister Maria Innocentia wouldn’t have liked it, but she was thousands of miles away. And Chase wasn’t. No, he most certainly wasn’t. Lord, the feel of him so close and sexy was about to do Annie in. He was too much for a woman in her weakened condition. His eyes were as black as carbon. And his body was so wonderfully hard to the touch. And so damn big. There, she had sworn at him.

“I wanted you to see there was nothing to be afraid of,” he explained. “But you wouldn’t hold still long enough. I thought a little demonstration would be the quickest way to ease your mind.”

She shook her head. “Next time don’t be so all-fired quick about easing my mind, thank you.”

He seemed amused as he studied her expression. “What are you saying, girl? That I rushed you? If I remember correctly, you seemed disappointed the last time I wanted to slow things down.”

The “last time” was their very first encounter, Annie realized, probably the closest they had ever come to actually making love. And maybe ever would. He’d told her he wanted to make love to her that day. He’d said those exact words, and she would never forget the rough thrill of his voice, or the heat of his mouth on hers.

“Well then, maybe you ought to just go ahead”—her voice caught, trembling—“and rush me.”

His eyes darkened, hotly aware of what she meant. “Don’t tempt me, Miss Annie,” he warned, his fingers biting into the flesh of her hip. “You might not like what you get.”

“I’ll like it,” she said. “I promise.”

Seconds flashed by, each one of them a burning eternity as he stared down at her. He curved his hand to her throat, his fingers splaying out, his thumb stroking her jawline. “I wonder if you know what you’re asking for,” he whispered harshly, tipping up her chin.

Annie made a sound as he bent to kiss her. But it wasn’t a moan, or even a sigh. The inaudible whimper came straight from her soul, and it was sweet and softly anguished.

“I’ll like it,” she whispered as his lips touched hers. “I promise ... ”

His breath hissed out, and his arms contracted around her, bringing their bodies together. Annie felt the crush of him all at once, and it was a wonderful thing. She wanted to touch him, to tangle her fingers in his hair and kiss him back. But she couldn’t move. There was something sparkling hot and terribly erotic trembling through her, and it made her ache for the rapture of his hard, hard love.

He deepened the kiss, turning it into something miraculous. Annie was clinging to him mindlessly when suddenly he broke away, his breath hot on her parted lips. An instant later the same hot, harsh breath was near her ear. “Annie, listen,” he said. “Do you hear it? Horses ... there’s someone coming.”

Horses? Why did he want her to listen to horses? All she wanted was to be closer to him. She wanted to drop to the ground and rip off their clothes and make love. Right then and there.

“Annie, do as I say, and don’t ask questions.” He held her back, his abruptness breaking through her euphoria. “Get Fire and take cover in the trees. Hear me? Do it! Quickly!”

She reacted automatically, stumbling away from him, reaching for the horse’s reins. But as she was leading Fire around, she stopped cold. She didn’t care if it was the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse riding down on them. There was something she had to know. “Chase?” she said, catching him as he was scooping up his Stetson from the ground. “Could you have done it? Could you have undressed me with that whip?”

He swung the hat onto his head and tapped it down, his dark eyes twinkling. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

Moments later, hidden behind a stand of huge blue oaks, Annie watched as three men rode up, their mounts stomping and blowing from the run. The lead rider, a heavyset man with a mustache, gave Chase the grim details of another cattle theft. Annie was able to pick up from the conversation that he was the foreman of the McAffrey ranch.

“They hit the north pasture,” the foreman said. “Looks like it happened some time last night.”

Chase asked a few cursory questions, then told the men he’d meet them up at the north pasture. “My horse picked up a rock,” he explained. “I’ll be along in a minute.”

As the men rode off. Annie emerged from the trees, leading Fire. She could see by Chase’s pensive expression that he was preoccupied with this latest assault on the ranchers.

“Go on back to cabin,” he told her, helping her onto the horse. “Fire knows the way. Take the dog with you, and stay there until I get back.”

Once she was mounted, Annie took hold of the reins with unsteady hands. “When will that be?”

“When I get the sons of bitches responsible. They’re starting to make me look bad.”

“Maybe I could help you?” she suggested. “I have a feeling I’d be pretty good at tracking down bad guys.”

“Annie, git,” he said gruffly, giving her horse a slap. “If I’d been paying attention to what I was supposed to be doing, instead of to you. I might have had the rustlers by now.”

Annie reined her horse around and started off, uneasiness weighing heavily on her mind. Though she knew bounty hunting was what Chase did for a living, she didn’t much like the idea at the moment. What if he got hurt? Or was gone for days, weeks? She also regretted the abrupt way they’d been interrupted when they were making such progress. And beyond that, she was wondering what she was going to do with herself while he was gone.

She reached up absently and touched the flower she’d tucked in her hair—the daisy he’d picked for her with his whip. It seemed a miracle it had stayed in place through all the commotion. A thoughtful smile crossed her lips as she drew the flower out of her hair and studied it. The smile deepened as an idea took hold. She knew exactly what she wanted to do when she got back to the cabin. She just didn’t know if she dared.

“I
’M GOING TO DO IT,
” Annie said under her breath. She drew her forefinger down the dusty windowpane, leaving a streak of grime that made the trees outside Chase’s cabin look as if they’d been struck down by biblical blight and pestilence. Even the dazzling morning sunshine, breaking over the hills, was shrouded in brown haze.

“I have to do it,” she said, turning away from the window to survey her dismal surroundings. “This place is more depressing than medieval catacombs.”

She’d been pacing the cabin’s small living area, staring at bare walls and filthy windows until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Chase had been gone for the last two days, and during that time she’d tried to talk herself out of the crazy idea that had taken up residence in her brain, but she couldn’t hold out any longer.

The dog began to bark as she pulled the car keys off a hook near the door. “I’m sorry, Shadow,” she said. “I can’t take you with me, boy.”
I shouldn’t even be going myself.

It didn’t occur to her until she was climbing into the Bronco that she couldn’t go anywhere looking as she did. Chase had been adamant about not wanting anyone to know he had a woman at his place, and even though he hadn’t explained why, she didn’t want to do anything, even inadvertently, that might cause him any more problems.

Moments later, after having made some last-minute alterations to her appearance, Annie was back in the driver’s seat of the Bronco, turning the key in the ignition. The gears ground painfully as she shifted into reverse and pulled the car back. It had been a while since she’d driven, but luckily, she’d learned on a stick shift—in this case, a rusted-out military jeep that had been abandoned near the convent and repaired by the nuns themselves.

Once Annie had the Bronco on the road headed toward town, she glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She’d tucked her hair up into a duckbilled John Deere cap she’d found in a closet and she’d borrowed a huge old army fatigue jacket, which easily concealed her breasts. She’d also smeared some fireplace soot over her chin and jawline in an attempt to disguise herself. It looked more like dirt than a beard, but she doubted anyone would automatically take her for a woman. More likely they’d think she was an unkempt young drifter looking for work on one of the oil rigs south of town—at least that was what she hoped.

It didn’t take her long to get accustomed to the Bronco, and once she’d left the winding curves of the foothills for the white-gold grass of the plains, she was rolling right along on a stretch of highway that seemed endless and surreal. The road opened up on all sides, creating a pale, shimmering panorama that reflected sunlight like a mirrored pond.

The effect was strangely hypnotic, and Annie was slipping into a near-trancelike state when a sudden burst of static jarred her awake. It sounded like a radio caught between stations. “Road Hog?” a male voice called, cutting through the fuzziness. “You out there, buddy? Pick up if you are.”

The noise seemed to be coming from the speaker of a radiolike apparatus on the console. Annie noticed a microphone and lifted it from its cradle, pressing the red button tentatively. “Are you calling me?” she asked.

“No, I sure wasn’t, sweetheart,” the male voice drawled thickly. “But you’ll do. I’m Hopalong. What’s your handle?”

“My handle? What does that mean?”

There was a snort of laughter on the other end. “Lady, where you been the last century? A convent?”

She nodded, then remembered she had to speak. “Yes, I was in a convent. How did you know?”

“I’ll be damned!” He chuckled. “What kind of rig you drivin’? And how fast?”

Annie wasn’t sure she ought to reveal the name of her “rig,” but she glanced at the speedometer, and immediately lightened her foot as she read off the miles per hour.

“Eighty-five?” He let out a sharp whistle. “I got just the handle for you, sweetheart—the Flying Nun.”

Whatever he said after that was drowned out in a burst of static, and the whole episode left Annie slightly perplexed but smiling. The Flying Nun? She rather liked the sound of that. Too bad she couldn’t tell Chase.

Painted Pony came into view as she rounded a curve a short time later. The drowsy little cow town, stretched out in the valley below, was shaped like a shoehorn, and the glittering river that defined its northern border was lined by graceful willows and white birches. Golden sagebrush plains were the backdrop to it all, sweeping upward into hills so inky black, Annie couldn’t make out their details even in the sunlight. Charmed by the vision, she told herself that the valley’s beauty must be a sign that she was right in making the trip.