Loving Katherine (11 page)

“P
ut me down, you ugly bastard!”

Katherine’s cry was shrill, carrying to where Roan sat. He lifted his head from his chest. His eyes narrowed against the piercing pain in his head, where a gun butt had guaranteed his cooperation during the early hours of the morning. He’d wakened several times throughout the day, only to see the sleeping figures of several men scattered about a primitive campsite. A lone sentinel stood guard, rifle in hand, but try as he might to catch sight of her, there was no sign of Katherine.

Until now. The sun had blazed its way across the sky throughout the long day. Now, against the brilliant sunset, he made out Katherine’s struggles, futile as they were. The man who’d claimed her last night appeared to have her well in hand, lifting her over his shoulder, ignoring the bound fists pummeling his back.

Well, she sure as hell was alive and it didn’t sound like she’d been leaned on too heavy, Roan thought. Relief fueled the sigh that emptied his lungs, just as another shriek of promised vengeance split the air. She didn’t seem to be roughed up any, just wrinkled and dusty.

“My husband’s a Devereaux from Louisiana. When his family finds out you’ve—” Her words were cut off abruptly
as the man who carried her delivered a sharp swat to her fanny, a prime target atop his shoulder.

“I told you to shut up,” he growled in the same guttural voice Roan recalled from the dark hours of the night.

“Damn!” It was a hopeless sound, growled between Roan’s clenched teeth, followed by a string of fluently uttered curses. The bearded outlaw allowed Roan one long, piercing look from beneath his brows as he heard the low sounds of frustration from his male captive.

Roan watched helplessly as the man carried a subdued Katherine toward a stand of trees. Stretched behind him, his arms were tightly bound, then attached to the tree he leaned against. He’d spent long hours between bouts of unconsciousness attempting to loosen his bonds, to no avail. Still, his fingers twisted and strained as he quietly fought against the rope in a useless battle.

He’d been offered water twice during the day and accepted it thankfully. Aware he was probably living on borrowed time, he’d watched as the camp stirred in the late afternoon, gauging his chances of freeing himself.

Now his teeth ground in futile anger as he saw Katherine’s form disappear into the trees, carried like a sack of oats. His senses attuned to her, he heard the words she muttered and he caught a glimpse of the rage blazing from her eyes as her head turned in his direction.

She was furious. Not a glimmer of fear radiated from her flushed face and gleaming eyes. Only the familiar look of Katherine in a snit. And then she lifted her head a bit more and he felt the heat of her gaze sweep over his bound body. Her mouth opened and she drew in a breath, her look one of such caring and concern he could hardly hold still under it. He watched as she attempted to lift herself, pressing her fists into the back of the man carrying her, but Roan shook his head at the movement.

Don’t, he ordered her silently. Don’t make a fuss, Katherine.
His eyes begged her, even as they took on a bleak look
of fear as he considered her fate. For as sure as the sun would rise in the morning, she was about to become the physical property of the man who carried her.

The bushes closed about them and Roan lost sight of Katherine’s head as the two figures disappeared beneath low, leafy branches.

One of the men sauntered close by to grin gleefully at Roan’s distress. “Did you see that? I’ll just bet Cass is about to have hisself a time with that li’l gal of yours. She sure is a spunky one. Had to gag her to keep her quiet.”

Roan closed his eyes, his active imagination already in gear. The thought of Katherine’s fine skin and slender form lying bare before another man was almost more than he could abide. He thought of her rich brown hair, the long, shiny length of it wrapped about a filthy hand, and felt the bile rise in his throat.

And then her scream shattered against his eardrums and he dropped his head to his chest, his hands working even more frantically at the rope that bound him.

A lean hand clamped over her mouth and bent her head back against a hard, unyielding body. Katherine’s eyes brimmed with tears as helpless rage filled her to overflowing. She drew in a breath through flaring nostrils and choked with the effort.

“If you shut up, I’ll take my hand away,” said a voice from behind her. It was husky and deep, strangely hushed in the dim light beneath the trees.

She nodded quickly, fearful of gagging on the cough that begged to be released from her lungs. His hand moved cautiously from her lips and she sucked in great gasps of air. She choked again, coughing as she gained her breath, sagging in his grip as he held her with one arm about her waist.

“Don’t scream again,” he warned her quietly. “That man of yours is already tearing his wrists up tryin’ to get loose. You don’t want him any more riled than he is.”

“I only screeched because you pulled my hair, you big lummox. Why should you care about Roan anyway?” She spit out the words furiously. Her fears for Roan’s well-being having been temporarily assuaged, her anger had rebounded in great style.

“Don’t say another word,” her captor said quietly. “Just turn around and look at me.”

Katherine straightened her shoulders and pushed at the arm he’d wrapped around her, turning within his embrace, aware of his hands holding her firmly. Her eyes met the dark cotton of his shirt. Then with an effort, she lifted her chin to gaze fully on his face, the bottom half still covered by a dark growth of beard. Above it, his nose was crooked and flattened. She allowed her gaze to skim the scar slashing whitely across his face, high on his left cheek, and then, with concentrated effort, she stared into his eyes.

They were brilliant blue beneath dark brows, regarding her with sadness, yet filled with a strange warmth. She sensed rather than saw the smile twisting his mouth, noted the reflection of his amusement in the narrowing of his eyes.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?” he asked roughly. His fingers squeezed her arms, and he set her away from him. “Take a good look, Katherine,” he told her, then stood silently as she raked him with incredulous, unbelieving eyes.

Her fingers lightly touched the growth of beard, brushed against his full lips and then rose to trace the scar marring his flesh. She followed the battered lines of his nose with her index finger and winced as she sensed the pain it had caused him. Finally, she pressed the flat of her palm against his jaw, fingers moving beneath the growth of hair to find the shape of his face.

“Lawson?” The single word was whispered between quivering lips. They pressed together firmly as if she feared to utter it again, lest she be wrong. A single tear slipped from each eye and left a damp path down her flushed cheeks.

His nod was almost imperceptible and he pursed his own lips, as though he fought a surge of emotion. “Yeah, it’s me, Katherine. Nasty way to meet up after all this time, ain’t it?”

She allowed the tears to flow, closing her eyes and leaning forward to rest her head against the broad wall of his chest. A single sob escaped and she lifted one hand to press her fist against her mouth.

“Lawson, I thought…you were…” She couldn’t complete the words, couldn’t admit the fear she’d lived with for so long. Forbidden to speak his name, which was tainted with the bitter news of his cowardice during the war, she’d all but given up hope of ever seeing him again.

His arms came around her and he held her tightly, rocking her to and fro for comfort as his shirt absorbed her tears. “Almost was killed a time or two,” he said gruffly. “For a while, I wouldn’t have cared, except for never seein’ you and Pa again. Then, later on, I knew it was too late…and y’all were better off without me.”

“Why did you…how come you’re…” She couldn’t form coherent thoughts, her mind spinning as she tried to comprehend the events of the day. Then her head snapped back abruptly, and she peered at him with concern. “How’d you get your nose plastered all over your face like that?” She smoothed the ruin of his once perfect profile with one finger. And frowned as she remembered something else that had played havoc with her temper all the livelong day.

“Was it necessary to stick that filthy rag in my mouth, Lawson? And just look at the marks on my wrists,” she told him, holding out her hands for inspection.

“I had them tie you up and gag you, for fear you’d recognize me today, honey. When I realized you hadn’t seen past this beard, I figured it’d be safe to stake my claim and carry you off into the trees for the night. And I did tell them to leave the gag off the last time they fed you.”

Katherine shuddered. “I won’t even ask you what was in that mess I ate. I only got it down because I didn’t know when the next time was I’d be offered anything.”

He set her away from him and led her to a dead pine tree, a relic of a long-forgotten bolt of lightning. “Sit down, Katherine,” he said. “We need to talk.”

She sank limply to the fallen tree and looked at the ground, aware of him beside her, silent and watching. “What will happen to us?” she asked finally.

“Who’s the man? Is he really your husband? What did you call him? A Devereaux from Louisiana?”

She looked up at him warily. “What does it matter? For that matter, why did you capture us in the first place? What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into, Lawson?”

“Didn’t have to work too hard to find trouble, Katherine. It came lookin’ for me.”

She gave him an exasperated glare, her frustration from the long day returning full force. “Are you a wanted man?” she asked bluntly. “What kind of hooligans are you running around with?”

“They’re way beyond hooligans, honey,” he said quietly. “They’re a bunch known as Cass’s Raiders. Just leftovers from the war, you could say, makin’ their way as best they can.”

“Kidnapping and robbing?” She glared at him with exasperation. “Mama would turn in her grave if she knew.”

“Yeah, well she doesn’t, so don’t fret about it. And Pa ain’t about to find out, either. Not that he’d care, anyway. After I refused to go fight in the war, he…well, I don’t think he considers me his kin anymore, anyway. But I still don’t want you tellin’ him, hear me?”

She shook her head. “Not much chance of that. Pa died early on in the year, Lawson. He’s buried on the farm.”

His eyes closed for a moment, and she peered at him in the gathering darkness beneath the tall trees. “Just as well.
I’d shamed him enough already. He couldn’t forgive me for runnin’, could he?”

She shrugged and reached to lay her hand on his, her fingers squeezing as she offered silent comfort. “Pa didn’t understand, Lawson. He was good at facing up to everything that didn’t require him to hang around for long. Going to war was a big adventure to him. Just like packing up and setting off down the road used to be when we were kids growing up. He always told me he went to enlist to save the family from the shame you brought down on us, but I think he was just tired of running the farm and his itchy foot was carrying him right out the door.”

“You hated it, the traveling all over the place, didn’t you, Katherine? Nah, don’t even answer. I know you did,” he said bitterly. “And I hated what it did to you, draggin’ from one farm to another. From one town to the next, never a home of our own.”

“Pa bought the farm,” she said, defending the man who’d fathered them both.

“Yeah…when it was too late for you to have a decent life of it. When you were already marked from hearin’ and seein’ things you shouldn’t have.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” she said stoutly. “You looked after me.”

He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it tenderly. “That was my one redeemin’ grace, Katherine. I did my best to look after you. There were too many eyes followin’ you in those last few years before we settled down in Illinois. Too many men wantin’ to try you on, scarin’ you and makin’ you all grim and tucked away inside yourself.”

She leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. “I’m fine, Lawson. I’m getting untucked, little by little.”

“Devereaux?” he asked and waited for her nod of admission. “Where’d he come from?”

“Pa knew him in the war. He dragged Charlie off the field and saved his life. Then they played turnabout and Pa carted
Roan all the way to Philadelphia to get his leg put back together when the war was about over.”

“He come to the farm?”

She nodded. “Showed up there better than a month ago. I tried to chase him off with that old shotgun of Pa’s, but he wouldn’t budge.” Her words were low, her smile laced with the memory of Roan’s stubborn refusal to leave.

“How’d you come to marry him? It’s not like you to be so headlong about things.”

She grinned at him, barely able to make out his features in the dark. “He wouldn’t leave without me. And he wouldn’t take me along unless I was his wife.”

“Is he treatin’ you right?” The question was stiff with promise.

She nodded against his arm. “He’s a good man. He agreed to take care of me and my horses and bring me back to Illinois if I want him to.”

“You’re goin’ clear the length of the country and back?” His tone was incredulous.

She shrugged again. “Maybe…maybe not.”

“Of all the harebrained ideas. Must be you’ve got him right around your little finger, Katherine, for him to take on such a mess of trouble.”

She stiffened. “He doesn’t seem to mind.”

His eyes touched tenderly on their intertwined fingers, resting against his thigh. “We got some tall talkin’ to do, Katherine. Then I want you to curl up and take a snooze for a while. I’ve got to figure out what we’re gonna do in the morning.”

“Don’t let them kill Roan,” she said carefully, her fingers tight against his as she gripped him with her considerable strength.

“I’ll do my best, honey. But I’m not makin’ any promises.”

“Lawson…” She pulled him back down beside her as he would have risen from the log. “First, tell me about your nose….”

It was the middle of the night before the camp settled down, the men wide-awake after their daylong slumber. They’d sat about the fire, swapping tall tales, lowering their voices occasionally as they ventured glances toward the stand of trees where the woman had been carried.