Sweet Silken Bondage (15 page)

"Of course," he told her. "You go on outside and enjoy
your walk, Sister. I'll have it all ready for you when you
get back."

"Thank you" Reina retreated from the crowded
room, eager to enjoy the peace and quiet of the moonlit
California night.

"You be careful out there, Sister. There's all kinds of
varmints in the woods this time of night," Poke called
after her protectively as she disappeared through the
door.

"I will," came her answer. But Reina knew Poke was
concerned about the wrong kind of varmints. The only
varmint she was worried about was the one who was
sitting there at the dinner table staring at her with those
damned unnerving gray eyes of his!

Clay watched Reina as she went on outside, then
thoughts of Dev, so long denied, surged through him.
Clay was glad that he'd been able to help stop the
robbery, but he was still angry with himself for the
mistake he'd made in chasing after the wrong stagecoach. He wasn't sure how he could have been so wrong,
but he had been and now he would have to pay the price.

At the thought, Clay almost laughed out loud in
cynicism. He wasn't paying any price! Dev was the one
who was paying! He only hoped his friend was holding
up well. From the look of things he was going to have to
travel all the way back to Louisiana to catch up with the
Alvarez girl, and there was no way to do that quickly. It
was going.to take time, and he prayed that Luis Alvarez
would make sure he had enough time to do it.

Hanley put the water on to heat and then, with Fred's
help, began to partition the cabin for the women by
stringing a line across the room and hanging blankets over it. He fixed it so they had the area closest to the
fireplace so they would be more comfortable in the chill
of the night. As Hanley helped pour the water for Ruth
and Melissa, Clay figured they deserved some privacy
while they bathed.

The thought of getting cleaned up before bedtime
appealed to Clay, too. So he got some soap and a towel
from Hanley, a clean shirt and his shaving gear out of his
saddlebags and headed out to the water trough. His arm
was stiff and more than a little sore, and it gave him
some trouble as he took off his shirt. When he'd discarded the ruined garment, he flexed his shoulders and
arms to test the strength of his injured limb. He was
relieved to find that he still had full mobility for he
couldn't afford to lose any time nursing himself. He had
to head straight for New Orleans at first light.

As Clay thought of Louisiana, it was inevitable that
memories of his father and Windown would follow. He
hadn't been home in years, and he was sorry that this
was going to be a trip born of necessity and not a social
visit. Clay knew, though, he couldn't concern himself
with anything but finding Reina Alvarez. Once that was
done and Dev had been freed, then he could think of
coming back to Windown. Until then...

Clay pushed all regrets aside as he primed the pump.
When the icy water finally started to flow, he bent under
it, taking care not to get his bandaged arm wet.

Reina had wandered around the station grounds,
trying to come to grips with the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her. Over and over she chided herself
for her fears. Very logically, she told herself that her
secret was safe. If Cordell hadn't recognized her yet, he
wasn't going to. But even as she tried to accept that very
sane rationale, her instincts refused to allow her to
relax. She felt much like an animal hiding in the woods
while the predator ranged nearby.

As she paused near a small grove of trees not too far
from the house, Reina sighed raggedly and clasped her hands together in an effort to stop them from trembling.
She'd lingered outside as long as she could now, and she
knew she had to go back inside, appearing calm, even if
she didn't feel calm.

Clay had just finished shaving and washing and was
drying off when he caught sight of Reina standing alone
in the distance. He paused in mid-effort to stare at her,
thinking she appeared much like an angel at prayer.

As heavenly as Reina looked, though, Clay was still
very much aware of her as a woman. He found her to be
everything he'd never thought he'd find in a female. She
was a perfect combination of beauty, humility and
gentleness of spirit. Yet at the same time, she was so
fiercely brave that Clay couldn't imagine her ever running away from anything. Above all else, though, she
was a completely honest woman, a woman without
guile. Clay wished that he'd had the luck to find her
himself before she'd decided to take her vows and enter
the convent.

Reina sensed Clay's intense scrutiny even before she
knew he was near. She looked up and couldn't stifle a
gasp when she spotted him, watching her from where he
stood by the watering trough. He was naked to the
waist, his sun-bronzed skin glistening wetly in the
muted moonlight. It was not the beauty of his powerful
body that held her attention, though, but her first
glimpse of him, clean-shaven.

In that instant, she realized he was the most magnificent looking man she'd ever seen. Her mouth went dry
and her heart lurched madly as she stared at him in
fascination. She had thought him attractive before he'd
shaved, but now...

Reina let her gaze trace his features. Visually, she
caressed the hard, lean line of his jaw and the firm,
sensual curve of his mouth. Something intense flared
deep within her, and she suddenly found herself caught
up in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. She was
drawn to Clay physically like a moth to a flame. She wanted him as she'd never wanted another man, and yet
in that very attraction was the ultimate danger.

More shaken than she cared to admit, Reina struggled to maintain the fragment of fragile control she'd
only so recently acquired. Girding herself, she managed
what she hoped was a serene smile and started to walk
back toward the cabin.

"Good night, Mr. Cordell," Reina said sweetly as she
moved past him, taking care not to look at him.

"Good night, Sister," Clay answered in a husky tone
that, unbeknownst to him, sent shivers of awareness
coursing through her. He watched Reina go, wondering
how it was she managed to stay so tranquil in the face of
all of life's ugliness. Clay wished that he had just a little
of her inner peace.

Reina's nerves were stretched taut as she entered the
station, and she was greatly relieved to find that Hanley
had been kind enough to provide for their privacy. It
surprised her to find that everyone had retired early, but
in a way she was very grateful, for she needed some
more time alone to sort out her thoughts.

"There's hot water for you there by the fire," Ruth
directed from where she lay on a pallet next to her
sleeping daughter.

"Thanks," Reina answered, and she quickly undressed, leaving on only the practical cotton underwear
while she washed. At the convent, she had balked at
parting with her fancy silk underthings, but Maria had
been adamant. Now, Reina was glad she'd listened to
her friend, for it would have been difficult to explain to
Ruth why she was wearing such fine, lacy undergarments.

Reina was busy scrubbing away the day's dirt and
grime when she heard Cordell reenter the cabin. She
froze in her actions, much like a deer sensing trouble,
and she waited. When she finally heard the sounds of
the bounty hunter bedding down for the night, she
relaxed and finished her ablutions.

Feeling somewhat refreshed, but still a little tense,
Reina donned her long nightgown and then believing
she was alone, got her brush from her case. She sat on a
chair before the low-burning fire, enjoying the luxury of
brushing out her hair. It was the first time she'd been
able to do it since she'd left Monterey, and it felt
wonderful.

Reina let her thoughts drift as she drew the brush over
and over again through her thick, ebony mane. She
missed her home and the comfortable life she led there,
but despite all the hardships she was encountering, she
was still firm in her resolve not to go back. She despised
Nathan Marlow too much to even consider spending
one moment more with him, let alone a lifetime. It
occurred to her then, that her father had had better taste
in his choice of a bounty hunter than he had in his choice
of her betrothed. She wondered resentfully, why, if he'd
felt so compelled to choose her husband for her, that he
hadn't picked someone like Cordell. Clay Cordell was
ten times the man Nathan was, and had her father
arranged her betrothal to him, she probably would
never have even considered running away. The only
place she would have run, she thought wickedly, was
straight into his arms. The man was devilishly handsome, and she only regretted that they couldn't have met
under different circumstances. Reina gave a delicious
chuckle at the direction of her thoughts and then quickly
bit down on her lip as she realized how decadent she'd
sounded.

Forcing herself back into the role of Sister Mary
Regina, Reina abruptly stopped brushing her hair and
packed away the brush. She finished getting ready for
bed and then snuggled down deep beneath the blanket
on her pallet. Soon she would be in New Orleans and
everything would be all right. She would be safe there
from her father, from Nathan Marlow and from Clay
Cordell. As sleep claimed her a short time later, she was
only vaguely aware of a deep, soft voice bidding her good night.

Clay was miserable as he lay on his own pallet across
the room on the other side of the blanket barrier. In
agitation, he wondered if somewhere along the line of
his existence he'd unwittingly done some terrible thing
and was deserving of this kind of torture. He knew he
hadn't lived the life of a saint, but then again, right now,
he was beginning to feel like he was in the running for
that position.

Clay groaned inwardly as he thought of the innocent,
yet totally seductive display he'd just witnessed. The
time he'd spent with Frenchie hadn't been nearly this
exciting or this tormenting! How was he supposed to
know that Sister Mary Regina was going to take her
time about retiring? And, if that wasn't bad enough,
how was he supposed to know that with the fire going
he'd be able to see through the damned blankets?

Clay stared up at the ceiling and asked God in mute
appeal why he'd been given this cross to bear. He'd been
playing the role of the gentleman, and this was his
reward? He'd made it a point to linger outside long after
Sister Mary Regina had gone indoors to give her time to
get in bed. He'd come in himself then, intending to lie
down and go right to sleep, and, instead he'd been
subjected to the most tantalizing torture known to
man - the sight of a beautiful, but unattainable young
woman in all her glory. Her fire-silhouetted image on
the blanket had nearly driven him into a frenzy, and
when she'd sat down to brush out her hair, he'd almost
torn the partition down and grabbed the brush from her
hand to finish the job for her.

Clay was perplexed by the power of his reaction to her.
It certainly wasn't just because he needed a woman.
Frenchie had satisfied that hunger when he'd been in
Monterey. No, there was something very different about
the way he felt toward this nun, and it was as disturbing
as it was powerful.

In a fit of frustration, Clay rolled over, closed his eyes and pulled his blanket up over his shoulders. As he lay
desperately courting oblivion, he found that he was glad
he would be riding out on his own in the morning.
Knowing how he felt about Sister Mary Regina, Clay
knew it was a good thing that he was not making the trip
back East on the stage, for he wasn't sure he would be
able to control the desire he felt for her. When he finally
felt himself drifting off, he whispered a hoarse good
night, for he knew that he would be gone in the morning
before she awoke and that he would never see her again.

It was late afternoon when Philip and Clay
mounted the front steps of Windown and entered the
house. Clay had been back home for almost a week,
and Philip was thoroughly enjoying having him there
with him again. They had spent the better part of the
day riding the fields and working with their breeding
stock, and they were tired but content as they made
their way into the study. Clay dropped wearily into
one of the leather wingchairs while his father moved to
his small liquor cabinet and poured them each a
tumbler of his best bourbon. Philip's smile was warm
and happy as he handed Clay one of the glasses.

"I can't tell how good it is to have you home again,"
he told him with heartfelt emotion.

"It's good to be here," Clay agreed, giving a deep,
satisfied sigh as he settled back and relaxed. He'd
missed his father and Windown more than he cared to
admit, and, had circumstances been different, he
might have considered staying on for a while. As it
was, though, he knew he had to concentrate on his
real reason for coming to Louisiana-finding Reina
Alvarez. "I'm just sorry that I can't stay longer."