His Abductor's Desire (3 page)

Had she changed so much that the girl he remembered was truly lost to him now? Before they parted he would find out and, hellion or not, he would make her lose that cool facade and admit that she desired him.

Chapter Three

“How’s the captive?” Elle asked late that night when Charity stepped into the cabin they had finally arrived at a short time before.

“Furious. But the shackles seem to hold well and he has plenty of food and fresh water in the stall.” Charity didn’t know if she would ever forget the rage on Brent’s face when Dew removed his blindfold after chaining him in the barn. It had made her truly afraid, despite the fact that she was the one holding the gun.

Elle nodded as she pulled the strap closed on the last saddlebag. The gold and cash had been counted, entered in the ledger, a small portion deducted to cover expenses and then divided equally among the three bags, one for each of the women. Elle was silent as she filled a small pouch with the gold set aside for expenses, which would go to James.

Dew had introduced them to James shortly after they met her in Helena. He ran a small store there and was able to acquire just about anything they needed. He kept them well supplied in provisions, information and weapons and in exchange they kept him well supplied in gold.

“What do you plan to do with him now?” The older woman finally asked the question Charity knew had been burning a hole in her since the bank robbery.

“Hold him up for ransom, of course. How much do you suppose a Davenport is worth? Twenty-five thousand? Fifty thousand? Possibly a hundred thousand?” Charity asked.

This inexplicably made Elle smile. “You can lie to yourself all you want, Char, but don’t lie to me.”

“What do you mean?” Charity asked, wide-eyed, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. Yes, she realized her actions had been rash, but admitting it to Elle was not something she was prepared to do.

“Do you forget that I was there the day you came home from that house party having almost given yourself to that particular Davenport? Do you forget that it was my ears subjected to the cursing and lamenting that went on days later when you found out he had left for France? Do you forget that it was my shoulder that bore the burden of your tears? Lie to yourself all you like, my dear, but I know you.” Elle had moved to stand in front of the girl she still considered her charge, forcing Charity to look up at her. “Confront him. This man left a hole in your heart and you need to have it mended. Have your way with him if you think that will help get him out of your system. In a couple of weeks we’ll take him back to civilization and hope to God we can hop the next train west before the rest of those Davenports come after us.”

“West? But the Davenport interests farther west aren’t easy pickings.”

“It’s over, Char. That young Davenport out there in the barn knows who we are. Even if we successfully ransom him, his family will know who we are. And they have the means to spend the rest of their days looking for us. It’s done with. We have more than enough to go to California or Oregon and set up a shop of some kind. It’s time to cut and run.”

“That’s not the plan. Where is Dew?” Charity asked, somehow hoping the other woman would come to her aid.

“It was never in the plan to abduct a Davenport. She feels the same as I do. I told her about your history with him.”

“I’m sorry, Elle. I know this is a change we should have discussed but there wasn’t time. In the end, it will be better, much less risky than robbing banks.”

“Well, you’ll have some time to think about it. James is expecting me with this gold by the end of the week.” Elle held up the small pouch.

“Surely you don’t mean to leave now?” Their group never traveled alone. If Elle was leaving, Dew would go with her.

“That was the plan, day after tomorrow. The horses need their rest.”

“We didn’t have Davenport when we made that plan.”

“We’ll move him in here before we go. Dew thinks the first snow will come by the end of the week, so we need to be down the mountain before that. You’ll be fine.” She winked.

Charity felt her cheeks flush. Being alone with Brent in the cabin was not what she had in mind when she’d kidnapped him, but then she had already decided that that had been a bad decision. Whether she admitted it to Elle or not.

“How do you know he won’t kill me?”

Elle laughed. “Killing you isn’t what he wants to do. Beside, he’ll be chained unless you choose otherwise.” She raised an innocent eyebrow. “How would he harm you?”

“I hate you right now, Elle Stanton.”

The woman only laughed again and Charity stormed off to her bed in the cabin’s loft, too exhausted to argue anymore.

* * *

By some unspoken decree, it was decided that Charity would be in charge of caring for the captive. Charity accepted this, but that didn’t stop her from grumbling to herself as she stood outside the barn and mentally prepared herself for the imminent confrontation. Brent unsettled her so easily but she vowed to keep her cool this time.

He was sitting on the floor of the stall with one knee up, arms resting at his sides. It looked like a natural repose if you didn’t look too closely at the iron rings in the wall, used to keep an animal immobile for gelding or the occasional stitching, and the chains that led down to his wrists. Even in captivity, Brent managed to exude a lackadaisical grace and charm that suggested the chains were completely under his control.

“Hello, Miss Blake.” He smiled. “I wondered when I’d see you again.” They could have been meeting again at a party back in Boston.

“Davenport.” And damn it if he didn’t almost look like he could be attending a party in Boston. His clothes were a little dusty but his hair had been smoothed into order and the slight growth of beard only enhanced the white of his smile and the perfectly chiseled planes of his face. The effect made him more obnoxious.

“I’ve brought food.” Simple statements. It was best not to engage in conversation with him.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

Charity refused to rise to the bait and set the tin plate filled with fried cornbread and elk stew on the hard-packed ground. “Do you mind? I need to refill your water.”

Dew had shown her how far the chains would go, so she set his food just at the invisible line. She dared not cross it. Unfortunately, that meant she needed Brent’s assistance in reaching his water bucket. She hoped he would oblige her and push it over.

He did her one better. With slow, deliberate movements he stood and walked the few feet that separated them.

Immediately Charity felt a fluttering of nerves in her stomach and wondered if she’d been foolhardy by leaving her gun hanging outside the stall door. At the time it had seemed wiser than allowing him the chance to take it from her, but now she wasn’t so sure. Her heart raced as he approached and she could feel a familiar heat rising in her body. It was the same reaction she experienced every time she was around him, only more powerful. Whether that was due to the small space or the intensity of the situation she did not care to ponder.

He stopped in front of her, a mere two feet between them. But his arms were taut at his sides, having reached the end of the chains. His gaze never left hers.

“You’ll have to take it from here. I seem to have run out of chain.”

She cautiously reached down, without looking away from him, and took the bucket.

“How long will you keep me?”

“As long as it takes to get your ransom. I’m sure the Davenports will be anxious to get back one of their own.”

“And then what? You don’t think you’ll get away, do you?”

“From the law? Yes, I think I’ll be fine.” They could be in Canada or San Francisco in less than a week with new names.

“From me.”

Charity met his gaze again and saw that the thin veneer of chivalry he had worn like a shield had been cast away. He looked far more savage now, like the way he’d looked back at the bank. There was no doubt that he meant to get retribution for her crime.

“Too late to turn back now. I’ll take my chances.”

“If you think being female will save you from hanging if the law finds you first, you’re delusional.”

“They won’t find us. Haven’t so far.”

“So far?” He clearly looked confused and Charity knew she had said too much. “So you
are
the gang plaguing our banks. I didn’t want to believe it. Yes, that makes sense from the description. A man—Elle, I presume, since she is so tall and gave such a convincing performance. A boy—that has to be our own petite Dew. And a young man—you. You have them looking for a family of bank robbers. Your father would be so proud of your success.”

She slapped him. It happened so fast she couldn’t have stopped herself had she wanted to. “Never speak of my father! Your family stole his livelihood, his very life. I’m only taking what belongs to me.”

Brent lunged for her and although he was already at the end of his chains, she dropped the bucket and took a few involuntary steps back. He radiated fury.

“And do I belong to you?” She thought he would yell but he spoke with a quiet intensity that scared her and, almost as quickly as it disappeared, the mocking smile was back. “There’s no need for chains. I can still take you until you’re begging for more.”

“Don’t be vulgar. I’m only interested in the money stolen from me.” But her skin had flushed at his crudity and the mental image his words evoked caused her breasts to tighten in awareness.

“You want me.” His eyes were cold, confident.

The truth of that statement hit home with Charity. It had been her mistake to assume her infatuation with him had been a girlish inclination, something that would vanish with the clarity and logic that came with experience and adulthood. She wanted him. Her desire had not dampened in all the years that had passed. It had evolved, certainly, from the maidenly wishes of a seventeen-year-old girl with visions of white and lace and kisses that left her cheeks hot to the mad, unquenched desire of a woman who knew now exactly what she wanted from the powerful male restrained in her barn.

“Only for your money,” she lied as she bent to retrieve the bucket.

But she strayed too close. Her agitation had made her oblivious to the fact that he was
not
at the end of his chains and in the space of a heartbeat, he held her pinned against the wall of the stall between the iron rings that held his chains. Each of his hands held a wrist in an unforgiving grip while his body held hers immobile.

“You’re a horrible captor, darling.” His whisper caressed her cheek.

The endearment was almost her undoing. He’d said it the night of the house party, the night he had finally kissed her on that dark terrace. “You can kill me, but it won’t get you released.” Charity bravely met his gaze.

“I don’t plan to kill you.”

She swallowed hard and fought a wave of desire. For a moment she wanted him to do what his words seemed to promise and that scared her.

“Let me go!” She attempted to bring her knee up to his groin, but his heavy thigh shifted and blocked her.

He laughed and shifted both of her wrists high above her head and held them with one hand. With his other he attempted to grab her leg at the bend of her knee, but she fought for all she was worth. They struggled for a solid minute before his superior strength won out and he managed to hook her leg over his hip and keep it held there with the weight of his lower body. Her other leg was fairly useless then as the tip of her boot clad toes barely brushed the ground. That brought his groin into intimate proximity with her heated center, separated by only the layers of their pants.

Charity froze with a gasp the moment she realized their position.

He, too, stopped moving and it was with some reticence that she managed to meet his gaze again. Except, his eyes were closed and his jaw clenched tight. After a moment, his hand ran up her thigh and into the back pockets of her soft, doeskin pants.

“What are you doing?” She bucked against his touch only to bring her center up against his groin which seemed to grow harder and larger by the heartbeat. Her body responded with a flood of damp heat.

“Stop moving.” There was a huskiness in his voice that had not been there before.

The command had been completely unnecessary because she was already frozen, staring up into his face only inches above her own.

“I’m looking for the key to the shackles,” he continued and opened his eyes after having regained a measure of control.

“I didn’t bring it in with me. I’m not an idiot.” She had forgotten how easy it was to drown in the deep blue depths of his eyes.

“Hmm...” Brent’s hand moved over her buttocks in what she considered a deliberately slow movement as he checked the other pocket. It, too, was empty, so his hand quickly began untucking her shirt from the waist of her pants.

“Stop! I didn’t bring the key.” She instinctively squirmed only to rub herself against his hard length again. The resulting sensation almost made her cry out, but she bit the inside of her lip to stop the shameful sound from escaping.

He didn’t say anything, only clenched his jaw as his fingers found their way up under her shirt. She would have been relieved that he stayed on the outside of her chemise if the path his fingers took didn’t feel like it had been blazed in fire, as if he were touching her bare flesh. His palm brushed over a nipple in his search, causing a surge of pleasure that went straight from her breast to clench deep in her womb. When the search made his hand brush over her other breast, she couldn’t stop the gasp of pleasure that escaped her.

His roaming hand stopped then, with her hardened nipple pressed into the warmth of his palm through the thin linen of her chemise. Her passion-glazed green eyes met his darkened blue ones in a moment of silent battle.

“I should have believed you,” Brent murmured as his thumb began to make lazy circles around her nipple. It stood proudly at attention, seeking his touch. She dared not move for fear of giving herself away.

The modesty was misplaced, however. Her desire was obvious in the flush of her cheeks, the dilation of her pupils, her ragged breaths and the instinctual way her body fitted itself to him in a plea for fulfillment. The kiss was inevitable. When his mouth closed over hers Charity didn’t even think to refuse him. She couldn’t think at all, only respond with all of the pent-up longing she felt for him.