The Outlaw and the Lady (10 page)

“You brought her here?”

“
Sí
. Soon, I will take her home, but first I wanted to make certain everyone made it home safely. You will like her. She is very strong.”

“She is a big woman?”

Lee smiled warmly and touched his chest. “In here, she is very strong.”

“I will make her most welcome.”

“I know you will.” And perhaps Angela could teach Juanita not to be afraid. He glanced toward the narrow bed nestled against the wall beneath the window where a small boy slept. “How is Miguel?”

“He missed you. He asked about you every day.”

“I will visit with him tomorrow. Now, go back to sleep.”

She settled down onto the mattress. “Will you watch over me for a while?”

“Always.” A promise that he knew was a lie, because a time would come when he would answer for his crimes, and the revelation would require a sacrifice. Although he often felt that he’d made one five years ago. He continued to breathe, to exist, but he did not live…did not dream…did not dare hope that he would ever have all he had once longed for.

He watched as her eyes drifted closed and waited until her breathing grew faint. Then he leaned over and kissed her brow before quietly quitting the room.

In the hallway, he contemplated using Alejandro’s bed. The worrier would probably keep watch outside the house for the remainder of the night, but Lee had no desire to be alone, and he doubted he would sleep anyway. On the few occasions when sleep came, it was too troubled to be restful, and Alejandro was right. With Angela near, he would not succumb to the deep well of slumber where his nightmares held vigil.

Silently he made his way down the corridor. He and his brothers had built this house. It was not fancy, but it was comfortable. It could not replace the
hacienda
they had shared with their parents in southern Texas, but one day he would give them a home as grand as they’d once had. Reaching his bedroom, he stood in the doorway, mesmerized by a sight he’d never thought to see.

The lamp he’d left on the table beside his bed earlier burned low. Beyond the window beckoned the darkness of night, and in his bed, a woman unknowingly lured him. Her hair fanned out across his pillow. With one hand tucked beneath her cheek, she was curled on her side. His chest tightened. How quickly she had stolen into his life, how difficult it would be to send her home. But he knew he must. He’d managed to elude this group of henchmen…but what about the next?

He’d left his boots at the front door. He walked in bare feet across a familiar floor and sat on the mattress where an incredibly courageous woman slept. He imagined the kind of man who would marry her, a man who had not shed blood, who had not violated the laws of God and man.

He knew he should make himself a pallet on the floor or retire to Alejandro’s bed. Listening to her soft, even breathing, he stretched out beside her. When she didn’t stir, he circled his arm around her waist and pressed his cheek against the top of her head. Since when—where she was concerned—had he done what he should do?

Angela awoke, her eyes gritty, her neck stiff, her body weighted down with the pressure of Lee’s arm draped over her side, his leg slung over hers. The times they had slept on the ground, she’d nestled her body against his to ward off the chill of the night, but this position seemed much more scandalous, especially since they were in what she was certain was his bed, the sheets creating a cocoon of intimacy. His warm breath skimmed along the nape of her neck, producing delicious hot shivers along her spine.

She became aware of someone else’s breath, quick, shallow, and near. Incredibly near.

“Lee, are you awake?” a child whispered loudly.

Beside her, Lee stirred. “Do I look awake, Miguel?” he mumbled.

“No, but you sound awake.
La señorita es muy bonita
.”

“
Sí
,” Lee replied. “But you must be very quiet so you do not wake her.”

“She’s already awake,” Angela informed him.

Lee groaned. “Sorry,
querida
, I wanted you to be able to sleep late, but I do not think the sun has been up for long.” He yawned. “Meet my brother Miguel.”

She would have scrambled to a sitting position, but Lee still had her pinned in place. Even though Miguel was only a child, she felt the heat burn her cheeks with the thought of his seeing her in this compromising position. She swallowed and spoke calmly as though being caught in bed with a man to whom she was not married wasn’t disgraceful. “Hello.”

“
Buenos días, señorita
.”

“You must speak English, Miguel,” Lee chided gently.

“Why?”

“Because she does not know as much Spanish as you do.”

“Why?”

“Her mother and father are not Mexican.”

“Oh.”

She heard Lee breathe a sigh of relief and decided to ask her own question. “How old are you?”

Silence. She wondered if perhaps he had a limited knowledge of English.

“Miguel, she cannot see your fingers,” Lee said quietly. “You must always speak to her.”

“Why can’t she see my fingers?” Miguel asked.

“She is blind.”

“And she is present,” Angela reminded him, “so you don’t have to talk about her as though she can’t speak for herself.”

Lee chuckled. “She gets mad easily.” She felt Lee shift as though he was reaching across her and ruffling someone’s hair. “But not at you, only at me. Tell her how old you are.”

“Soon I will be four.” He made it sound as though the age was so much more important than three years, as though three were not even worth acknowledging.

“Now, go tell Juanita that I am hungry,” Lee said.

The child padded out of the room with bare feet.

“He seems incredibly sweet,” Angela mused.

“He is a good boy.”

“And you’ve raised him,” she said.

“We’ve all helped to raise him.”

She knew women who had children late in life, but it was obvious that many years separated this little one from his siblings.

Lee rolled off the mattress. “I will bring you some breakfast and then you can have the bath I promised you.”

She listened as he left the room. Then she threw back the covers and scrambled out of bed. She could feel the heat of the sun on her face. Carefully, she began crossing the room to the window. Her fingers touched the smooth surface of the glass just as her toes made contact with a wooden box.

She knelt and ran her hand over the ragged edges of the contents. Books. Small books. She lifted one and riffled the frayed pages. Based on their diminutive size, she guessed that she’d discovered his cache of dime novels. She felt along the edge of the box and found another box beside it. The books here were larger, with leather covers. Beside it she located another box of books. Why didn’t he place them on shelves?

Cautiously she circled the room. A bureau with four drawers. She was curious enough to open them and discovered only two had clothes in them; the others were empty. Nothing sat on top of the dresser. The walls were bare. She found a table beside the bed, its only adornment a solitary lamp.

Remembering the rug that had muffled her passing the night before, and the aromas that had greeted her when she’d first walked through the door, she sank onto the bed. The house possessed a definite feeling of being lived in, but not this room. It was as lonely as the man who slept here, a temporary haven that showed no signs of permanence because Lee Raven knew his days were numbered.

She listened for the whirl of wheels as wagons or carriages traveled by, the laughter of people, the din of conversation. She heard nothing but the soughing sigh of the wind and the unmistakable quiet of isolation.

O
ne Sunday afternoon shortly after her nineteenth birthday, Angela had sat in the front parlor awaiting the arrival of her first gentleman caller, an out-of-town friend to one of the men who had been courting her younger sister Heather. Nervous, anxious, fearful that he would find her lacking, she had been more relieved than disappointed when he never arrived.

But all her concerns then paled in comparison to her worries now. She sat on the edge of Lee’s bed, the breakfast he’d brought her sitting heavy in her stomach, while she awaited the arrival of his sister. She had faced unknown suitors, even an outlaw, with more confidence. Her favorite dress was torn beyond repair, her hair was a tangled mess, and she carried the fragrance of too many days’ travel.

For the life of her, she couldn’t determine why she had any desire to impress Lee’s sister. For pity’s sake, the woman probably possessed no morals at all. She no doubt entertained other outlaws, perhaps warmed their beds. Maybe she drank, cussed, and wore a gun slung low on her hip. She would not be living with her brother now if she did not condone his actions, and that sanction made her as guilty as he was.

Angela’s mouth went dry when she heard boots and slippered feet in the hallway. Slowly she rose, wiped her damp palms on her filthy skirt, and pasted on a false smile as the footsteps came to a halt.

“Oh, Lee, you did not tell me she was in pain,” a soft voice exclaimed. A rush of movement followed, and then hands, smaller than Lee’s, were resting on her shoulders. “Please sit,
señorita
, and tell me where you hurt. I will make you a poultice or a brew—”

“I’m not hurting,” Angela assured her.

“Then why do you grimace?” she asked quietly.

“I was smiling.”

“Oh,
señorita, lo siento mucho
. I misunderstood. You have a…a beautiful smile.”

Angela felt her face transform as all her apprehension melted away and she truly smiled. “I doubt that. It was a nervous grin. I wasn’t certain what to expect.”

“But what I see now
is
a beautiful smile, Angela,” Lee said in a seductive voice, as though they were the only two people in the room. “I do not think you have ever shown me this smile.”

“I haven’t had many reasons to be happy since you abducted me,” she pointed out.

“That is my regret and my loss. Juanita will see to your needs. Don’t ask my family what I look like.”

The order had been gently given, but she knew it allowed no room for compromise. He left the room and she dropped onto the bed. “I find your brother extremely irritating.”

“He would die for you,
señorita
.”

Although Angela entertained the possibility that the words were true, she did not dare hope that she would ever mean that much to a man. “I hardly think so.”

“Then you do not know him.”

But what she
did
know was that she had taken an instant liking to Juanita. Smiling, she held out her hand. “I’m very happy to meet you.”

Juanita squeezed her hand and said, “
Mi casa es su casa
.”

Angela sank into the wooden tub, allowing the steaming hot water to lap at her throat. Eduardo had hauled in the tub and filled it with buckets of water. He was almost as shy as Juanita was, muttering a greeting to her before hastily leaving the room. Angela supposed the younger siblings had little choice when the older ones appeared to be so forceful.

She rested her head against the back of the tub where Juanita had set a rolled-up blanket to cushion her neck. She thought she might stay here forever.

She felt the tug on her hair as Juanita worked a comb through the tangles. “We should probably just chop it off,” Angela murmured lethargically.

“Oh, no,
señorita
. You have beautiful hair, and I have nothing else to do this morning. Besides, I think it would please Lee. He smiles whenever he speaks of you, and it has been a long time since I have seen him smile.”

Angela rolled her eyes, not daring to believe that she had the power to make a man smile with little more than the mention of her name. “Are you sure it wasn’t a grimace?” she asked teasingly, thinking of her earlier debacle when she had tried to appear calm.

“Oh, very sure,
señorita
. It is a small smile, sort of wistful as though he was afraid that if he smiled too big, fate would take away his reason to smile at all.”

Angela hesitated and then decided that the question she wanted to ask wouldn’t exactly address what he looked like. “Does he have a nice smile?”

“A very nice smile. It always warms me inside to see it.”

“But you said that he doesn’t smile often.”

“Not for many years now,” Juanita said softly, but Angela heard the sadness in her voice.

She was struck again by how much everyone cared for Lee. It was not fear for the outlaw that drove them. No, it was a deep bond.

She knew she should have chastised him this morning when she awoke in his intimate em
brace. Instead, she had wished desperately that he’d allow her to roll over and touch him, hold him as he held her. She wanted to know the cut of his jaw, the shape of his nose, the angles that formed his chin. She knew his height, the breadth of his shoulders, the sturdiness of his arms. But she wanted to know all of him.

She considered asking Juanita to describe him, but she would not allow Lee’s sister to unknowingly betray him. Although she despised his need to keep his appearance hidden from her, she also respected his right to want it.

“Lee is the oldest,” she speculated.

“Oh, no,” Juanita said. “Alejandro is older, although not by much.”

Angela sat up slightly. “But Lee seems to be in charge.”

“
Sí
. He is good at giving orders.”

“So it’s Alejandro, then Lee…” She trailed off, not certain where to go from there.

“Roberto. Jorge. Me, then Eduardo,” Juanita finished.

“And Miguel,” Angela added.

“Oh,
sí
. Miguel is the youngest.”

“He must have been a baby when your mother died.” She cringed when Juanita pulled the comb through her hair, making her scalp sting.

“He was just a baby,” she acknowledged.

“When were your parents killed?” Angela asked, unable to remember when she’d first heard of the outlaw.

“I said no questions,
querida
,” Lee said sternly.

Angela squeaked and dipped lower into the water. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Because you were too busy interrogating my sister.”

“I wasn’t interrogating her. Besides, you didn’t say I couldn’t ask questions. You only said that I couldn’t ask what you looked like.”

She heard his footsteps echoing loudly now as he came farther into the room. She could clearly imagine him bearing down on her.

“You can go, Juanita.”

“What are you going to do to her?” Juanita asked. The tremble in her voice surprised Angela.

“I am going to get the tangles out of her hair.”

Juanita quickly attacked her hair with the comb. “I can get the tangles out.”

“Juanita,” Lee chided gently. “It is my fault they are there. I removed the pins.”

His knees creaked, and she knew the moment he took the comb and her hair out of Juanita’s hands.

“I do not think it is right for a man to be in a room alone with a woman,” Juanita said in a small voice.

“She and I were alone for many nights, Juanita,” he said quietly.

“You promised me that you would never hurt a woman.”

“And I kept that promise. I will keep it until the day I die. But this one here, she is a smart one. She will find answers to questions she is better off not knowing.”

She heard Juanita rise to her feet. “I will never forgive you if you hurt her.”

“Juanita, you know me. Do you honestly think I would hurt her even if I had not given you that promise?”

“I’m sorry, Lee, I know you would not hurt her.”

She heard tears in Juanita’s voice, his knees pop as he stood, and she envisioned him taking his sister within his arms.

“It’s all right, Juanita,” he murmured. “It’s all right.”

Juanita sniffed. “I need to fix the midday meal. Do not worry,
señorita
, he will not hurt you.”

She listened as Juanita walked out of the room, and Lee once again crouched beside the tub. “She was afraid of you,” Angela said.

“She is afraid of the memories. You must not ask my family about that night. It is better that they forget.”

“How can they forget if you’re constantly seeking revenge?” She felt the teeth of the comb dig into her crown just before he yanked it through her hair.
“Ow!”
she cried, and slapped her hand over his.

“I do not know how to do this,” he barked.

“Give me the comb.” She held out her hand.

“I can do it. Just tell me how.”

She sighed. He was the most aggravating man. “Start at the end and ease—gently—the tangles out until you work your way to the top.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

The back of his hand came to rest on her bare
shoulder, and she felt the movements as he repeatedly jerked the comb through a section of her hair. She wanted to press her chin against his hand, cradle it within the hollow of her neck. She was grateful the water lapped above her chest, wondered where his gaze wandered. Was he smiling now?

During their kisses, she’d ascertained that he had straight teeth and full lips, and she could well imagine that his smile would beguile any woman fortunate enough to have it directed her way. Had he ever grinned at her? Without permission to touch his face, she had no way of knowing. For all she knew, he was scowling, that fine mouth of his turned down in annoyance, not up in appreciation.

His efforts gentled, slowed. She became aware of his forearm touching her arm, heat radiating near her shoulder, warmth that didn’t have to pass through cloth. “You’re not wearing a shirt?”

He stilled. “No, I came in to get a clean one. I did not expect to find you in the bath already.”

She’d been so desperate to wash away the grime that she’d practically ripped off her clothes. “I was eager to be clean.”

Skimming his fingers along the shell of her ear, he moved aside her hair. “Is the water too hot?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head slightly. “Why would you think that?”

“Because dew has gathered along your throat, a drop trails down…right here…” He nuzzled her neck.

She was acutely aware of the wanton desire pooling deep within her, his lower lip capturing the moisture as his heated mouth journeyed higher, his eyelashes fluttering against her ear as though he’d closed his eyes, his teeth nibbling at her lobe, his rapid, harsh breathing. She heard him swallow hard as his fingers fisted around her hair. “Maybe…maybe I’d better comb out the tangles,” she offered softly, breathlessly.

“
Sí
, I need to take a bath,” he rasped.

She halfway expected him to leap into the water with her. Instead, she heard the familiar pop of his knees as he stood and noted that his hand shook when he pressed the comb against her palm. She listened to the heavy tread of his boots as he quit the room and sought what comfort she could in the knowledge that she’d determined he had large feet.

Smiling, she sank further into the water. He also had long eyelashes, long, thick eyelashes that tickled like the fragile petals of a dandelion when her mother would blow them into her face. Her smile of wonder spread throughout her body. Of all the things about an outlaw to discover.

A small sound caught her attention, the brush of a body against a wall. “Miguel?”

She heard him catch his breath. “How did you know,
señorita
?”

She touched a finger to her ear. “I have very good hearing.”

He padded across the floor, and the warmth of his body hovered near her shoulder. She thought
about telling him that he shouldn’t be in here, but a child’s innocence was incredibly disarming.

“Lee said I could have a
piñata
for my birthday,” he announced, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to talk to a woman who sat in a bathtub. “Will you come to my birthday party?”

She heard the yearning in his young voice, but she didn’t know exactly when his birthday was or if she’d still be here.

“Will there be lots of children there?” she asked.

“My brothers and Juanita.”

Her stomach tightened with the knowledge that she should have understood. He could have no friends here because his brother was an outlaw. With a sadness for all he could not have, she smiled, knowing no matter how long it took, she wouldn’t leave until she’d fulfilled this obligation. “I’ll be here for your birthday.”

“
Gracias, señorita
. I will let you try to break the
piñata
.” He flung his thin arms around her neck and planted a slobbery kiss on her cheek. He released her abruptly, and she heard his hasty retreat, no doubt eager to share the news that he would have a guest for his birthday celebration, news that would probably not be welcomed by many family members. But she would deal with them when the time came.

Besides, that little boy with his eagerness filled an aching chasm in her heart, a chasm created that awful day she’d lost Damon Montgomery. She couldn’t believe she’d told Lee about it. She
had been nine, old enough to watch him. He had been a year older than Miguel would soon be. Five. Equally eager, equally enthusiastic, equally giving of his hugs and kisses.

He’d had nothing to fear because his father was one of the most respected Texas Rangers in the state. He’d had nothing to fear except the carelessness of a friend who had ignored the sound of approaching horses until she’d heard his yell, who’d hid out of fear at being captured by the renegades who had caught him and ridden away with him. Her head knew that it had been too late to rescue him, and that her only recourse had been to sneak away and find her family. Her head knew that she’d done all she could.

But her heart had never forgiven her.

Standing by the stone well, Lee dumped another bucket of cool water over his head. He had to get the woman away from here before she made him
loco
. How could he possibly have touched his mouth to her soft neck, to be so close that all he could smell was the delicate scent that belonged to her alone, to nibble on her ear as though he were a starving man sitting down to his first meal? It had taken all the willpower he possessed not to dip his hand beneath the water to take pleasure from the weight of her breast within his palm. Her alabaster flesh demanded a man’s mouth pay homage to it. He had never in his life yearned for anything as much as he longed to possess Angela.