The Outlaw and the Lady (18 page)

Setting the paper aside, she rose from the chair and leaned over the bed. Lee breathed evenly, calmly. Quietly, she left the room.

Counting her steps, Angela walked away from the house.

She missed her midnight strolls, but here she could find no landmarks to identify. No fence, no wooden Indian, no boisterous laughter drifting out from the saloon—nothing to guide her. She could easily lose her way, and knowing the exact number of steps between the house and her destination was imperative.

She must ask Lee to build her a path. She would go crazy without the freedom to wander. Her blindness would not cage her in as much as Lee’s love would. Was that fair to either of them? Would she come to resent it?

She knew without a doubt that she wanted to spend the remainder of her life with him, grow old with him. Bring his children into the world. But she would have to raise them in isolation, and
she wasn’t certain she could deny them access to a world she could no longer see but still loved. Commotion, wagon wheels spinning, the din of conversation, the rumble of laughter. If only she could convince Lee to talk with her father. Then they might have a chance at a normal life, if they could only clear his name.

His name
. She wanted him to clear a name that wasn’t truly his. What
was
his real name? Why couldn’t he go back to being who he was before the night Shelby attacked his family? Why had he chosen the name Lee Raven?

So many questions. He had trusted her with his heart, given her so much already, but she wanted everything, to understand each nuance behind his actions…but more, she wanted to save him from the gallows.

Shooting a man in the back might have been cowardly, but she understood his reasons for killing Floyd Shelby. She was convinced that if he would only explain to a judge all that had happened that night, he would be exonerated. Surely her parents would defend his actions. She thought Kit Montgomery would as well. Perhaps then Lee’s nightmares would cease.

“Angela?”

She stilled, fear shoving aside what should have been joy. “Spence?”

“Thank God.” He tightly wrapped his arms around her while her mind spun with a thousand questions. He moved back slightly, but anchored her to his side with one arm. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

Resisting, she broke free. “What are you doing here?”

“What the bloody hell do you think we’re doing?” he asked.

“We? Who all is here?”

He took her arm. “I’ll explain everything once I’ve gotten you safely away.”

Shaking her head, she jerked loose. “Explain now. Who is here?”

He sighed heavily. “Father, Gray, six Rangers, your parents.”

“
My
parents are with
you
?”

“Yes. We’re spread out so we have the area covered. I was sneaking up for a closer look to see if I could determine the weaknesses. We planned to take the place at dawn. You can well imagine that it was nearly impossible to convince your parents of the value in waiting, in the advantages of following standard Ranger procedure. But we thought it less likely that Raven would use you as a shield if we caught him unawares.”

“He’d never use me as a shield.”

“It’s a moot issue now. Since we have you, we won’t have to be cautious when we go in to get him.”

“So you’ll go in with guns blazing?” she asked, thinking of Lee’s comment that he’d rather die by gun than by rope.

“We won’t attack quite that dramatically.”

“You’re in Mexico. You have no jurisdiction here.”

“Precedents have been set for Rangers not strictly adhering to the boundaries formed by the
Texas border.” He cupped her face between his hands. “Angela, what in the hell is going on? I’m here to rescue you, for which I would think you’d be immensely grateful. Instead, you’re arguing.”

“Because it’s too dangerous for all of you. He has five brothers in the house. One is a little boy. His sister is there.” She could well imagine the terror Juanita would experience to see a hoard of unfamiliar men storming the house. “You were searching for me. Why not leave Raven?”

“We can’t now that we’ve found him. He’s a murderer. You know Father’s reputation and his quest for justice.”

Clutching his arm, she wanted desperately to tell him the whole story, but Lee’s gentle rebuke whispered to her heart that some things weren’t hers to reveal. Although his family’s history might be one of them, it still hurt not to vindicate him with the truth. “Justice won’t be served if someone gets hurt.”

Her stomach knotted as she thought of any of these people being killed. Lee’s family. Hers. Kit. Grayson. Spence. Would Lee surrender to protect his family? Would anyone who participated in the search to find her give him a chance? They didn’t know him as she did. And he didn’t know them. What would anyone’s death accomplish? She swallowed hard. “If I promise you that he’ll never again rob another bank, he’ll never again cross into Texas, will you please just leave us here and pretend you never found us?”

Tenderly he cradled her cheek. “What happened while you were with him?”

Tears stung her eyes. “I fell in love with him.”

He drew her close. “Listen to me. That’s not uncommon in abductions. I’ve read where women who were carried off by Indians fell in love with their captors.”

She shook her head. “It’s not like that. I’ve written a letter to Mother and Father explaining that I want to stay with him.”

“Trust me, sweetheart. What you’re feeling is a result of the circumstances, not the man.”

“He’s a
good
man.”

“He’s a coward. He shot a man in the back, for God’s sake. To be sure, you are our first consideration, but we’re not going to leave without him.”

And if they tried to take him, they would end up taking him dead. How could she possibly endure his death? “I can deliver him to you,” she rasped, her throat aching as she forced out the words.

“Raven?”

She stepped out of his embrace. “There’s a spot by the river. You’ll find initials carved in a tree. I’ll have him take me there shortly after dawn. If we aren’t far from the house, his brothers will try to stop you and someone is bound to get killed”—she thought she might be ill—“and you can arrest him at the river.” She dug her fingers into his arm. “Just don’t hurt him.”

He sighed heavily. “I really need to discuss this idiotic idea of yours with Father.”

“We don’t have time. If Lee wakes up, and I’m not in bed—” Too late she realized what her words had revealed.

“Christ,” Spence muttered. “Tell me you’re not in his bed.”

“Please, Spence. Just go back to the others and tell them what our plan is.”

“
Our
plan? I’m not going to take any credit for it.”

“I’ll take full credit for it, then, but don’t you see that it’s the only way we can guarantee that no one gets wounded—or worse, killed?”

“All right, but if you haven’t left the house by noon, we’ll come in and take him—any way we can.”

Rising up on the tips of her toes, she kissed Spence’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Your father is going to bloody well kill Raven when he realizes what the man did.”

“You use too much profanity, Spence.”

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“One other thing—don’t try to warn him. We’ll leave men behind to watch the house. If he tries to escape, my promise to you is voided. We’ll do whatever we have to in order to arrest him.”

Putting Lee on alert was possibly the worst plan of action. She knew how stealthy he could be when he set his mind to it. Hadn’t he sneaked up on her time and time again? And if he truly was as skilled with weapons as he claimed, she knew he would do whatever it took to protect his family. “I’ll keep my end of the bargain. Can you turn me so that I’m in a direct line with the house?”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her around. “Be careful.”

“You, too. Please tell my parents not to worry. Raven never hurt me. Never.”

As she walked back toward the house, she wondered if he’d ever be able to say the same of her.

“Describe the sunrise to me. I want to see it through your eyes,” Angela said quietly, too quietly, as they stood beneath the tree where he’d carved their initials.

He wasn’t certain what had possessed him when he’d taken his knife to the bark. He’d almost carved his true initials, had almost convinced himself to reveal everything. She made him believe in possibilities, had forced him to realize that his quest for revenge had somehow gone astray, was hurting the wrong people. Perhaps with her by his side, he could redirect his energies, he could find a more satisfying way to make Shelby accountable for his actions.

She’d been somber ever since he’d awakened her before dawn and made love to her. She’d wept afterward and had told him that she wanted to come here. As willing as she was to stay with him, he had to be as willing to open his heart completely.

He watched as she traced her fingers over the ragged gouges he’d made.

“The sunrise,” she whispered.

“I’d rather describe you.”

“I know what I look like.”

“Do you? Do you know that through my eyes you are the loveliest woman I’ve ever seen?” Taking her hand, he knelt on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

She gasped, not with the joy he’d expected, but with an expression of horror. Tears filled her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks.

The crunch of a boot heel alerted him that they weren’t alone. Every nerve in his body felt as though lightning had streaked through it. He shot to his feet and wrapped his fingers around the butt of his gun at the same moment that Angela wound her hand around his wrist.

“No,” she pleaded, her face stricken but showing no evidence of surprise, only quiet acceptance.

“Move your hand away from the gun, Raven,” someone ordered. “We have half a dozen rifles trained on you.”

“Please,” Angela rasped hoarsely, “do as Captain Montgomery says. They won’t hurt you.”

Montgomery. He should have known. “What about my brothers?”

She shook her head as more tears fell. “They only want you.”

She’d known, somehow she’d known they would be here waiting for him, had lured him here. Slowly he unfurled his fingers and raised his hands, grateful his hat shadowed his face and enabled him to hide the agony of her betrayal.

“Angela, move away from him.”

Montgomery’s voice resonated around Lee,
cultured, authoritative, his British accent apparent.

But Angela didn’t move. “Promise me you won’t do anything to draw their fire,” she begged Lee.

“I’m going to remove my gun belt,” he announced before cautiously lowering one hand. While he worked the fastenings, he sliced his gaze to Angela. “A man only fights,
querida
, when he has a reason to live.”

“Lee, listen to me—”

“You have nothing to say that I want to hear.” He dropped his gun belt to the ground and took a step back. Two men immediately emerged from their hiding places behind the trees, spun him around, and wrenched his arms behind his back. His stomach knotted as he heard the clanking of iron. He was grateful that his family wasn’t here to witness his shame and humiliation, to see him stripped of dignity as the cold metal was snapped around his wrists.

“You don’t have to chain him,” Angela said.

“Angela!” a voice boomed.

Lee listened to the hurried halting footsteps and the sound of a cane tapping the ground. Keeping his head bent, his hat rim hiding his face, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man come to a staggering stop and draw Angela against him with one arm, the cane not merely a prop. He relied on it…heavily if the way his knuckles turned white as he gripped the golden lion’s head was any indication.

Lee’s breath stilled as memories flitted in and out of his mind. A child, studying the lion, frightened of it. Then the memories faded and he doubted that he’d seen them at all.

“Papa, tell them that they don’t have to bind him.”

“Angela, Kit knows best,” her father said, his accent undeniably British. “Are you hurt? Did he harm you in any way?”

“No, Papa, I’m fine but you have to help him.”

“I’ll help him all right. Straight to the gallows.” Her father moved away from her until he stood directly in front of Lee. “I ought to beat you to a bloody pulp.”

Dear God, but he wished he would, would beat him black and blue until he was unrecognizable.

“Look at me, you sorry bastard.”

“Harry, I’ll handle this,” Montgomery said. “You take care of Angela.”

His head still lowered, he saw Montgomery’s boots first. Scuffed, covered in dust, but obviously finely made.

“I’m Captain Christian Montgomery of the Texas—”

“I know who you are,” Lee said solemnly. His heart pounding, dreading what he feared he would discover, he slowly lifted his gaze…

And found himself staring into eyes the same light blue as his own.

S
lowly, excruciatingly slowly, Kit Montgomery reached out with a trembling hand and swept the black Stetson from his prisoner’s head.

Kit had always envisioned Lee Raven with dark hair. Perhaps because his name conjured up images of black birds. He’d never expected him to have hair that curled as his did when he allowed it to grow too long. Hair the color of wheat…like his wife’s.

“What do you want us to do, Captain?” Sean Cartwright asked.

Kit did what he’d never expected to do at this moment. “Put him on his horse,” he ordered before turning his back on his son.

Angela heard the quiver in Kit’s voice, the clanging of the chains, and Lee’s retreating foot
steps. She couldn’t remember when she’d felt this lost, could never remember feeling this abandoned. Frantically reaching out, she clutched her father’s arm. “Papa—”

“Come along now,” he said briskly.

“Papa, what’s wrong?” The silence before the Ranger had spoken had been palpable, almost deafening. “Papa?”

“Angela!”

She turned at her mother’s urgent plea. “Mama!”

A scent she knew well—the fragrance of affection and caring that she associated with her mother—greeted her a heartbeat before her mother’s arms wound tightly around her and her mother’s tears dampened her cheek.

“Oh, sweetie,” her mother rasped, rocking her slightly. “Oh, my baby.”

“Mama, something’s wrong.”

“Not anymore. We have you back. Are you hurt?”

“No, but what are they doing with Lee?”

“Lee?” her mother asked.

She nodded, her worries increasing. “Something is terribly wrong. Kit was upset. I heard it in his voice.”

“Oh, Angela,” her mother began, brushing Angela’s hair back from her face, a comforting gesture, but also a telling sign that she didn’t know exactly how to explain something. “What do you know about Lee Raven?”

“That he probably hates me right now.”

“What else?”

“I don’t understand. Why are we playing twenty questions? Why don’t you just tell me—”

“He looks remarkably like Kit,” her father said quietly.

Her heart lurched, her stomach knotted, and bile rose in her throat. “I don’t understand. You mean he’s a darkened version of Kit? He’s Mexican—”

“No, sweetie, he isn’t.”

She spun around. “Where is he? I have to talk with him.”

“They’re escorting him across the river,” her father said. “We need to follow.”

She sank against him, tears stinging her eyes as she pushed the question past the knot in her throat, “What color is his hair?”

“Blond.”

Images bombarded her. Damon Montgomery running into her arms. Damon Montgomery chasing her. Damon Montgomery playing hide and seek with her.

Damon Montgomery making passionate love to her.

Angela sat by the fire, listening to the crackling of the flames. Dear God in heaven, Lee Raven was Damon Montgomery. She felt numb from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, had ever since the truth regarding his identify had burst through her with unrelenting anguish. She had failed him as a child. Had she failed him now that he was a man?

Her mother and father sat on either side of her,
each holding her hand. Spence sat beside her mother. Grayson Rhodes was on the other side of her father. She didn’t know where Kit was. Lee was somewhere nearby. She’d heard the rattle of his chains, but they’d fallen into silence before she could identify the location.

No one had spoken as they rode. No one had uttered a word when they made camp. No one had talked while they ate. So much needed to be said, yet everyone seemed wary of communicating their thoughts and concerns aloud. As though everyone was in shock, stunned beyond belief.

What was Lee feeling? Did he know who he was? Had he recognized Kit? Discovering that Damon was alive after all these years should have been a cause for jubilation, not mourning.

“I need to speak with Lee,” she said. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t envision him as Damon. Why hadn’t he told her? Had he not realized who he was?

“I’m not sure that’s a wise idea,” her mother said.

“Is he glaring at me?”

“No,” her mother said.

“Is he looking at me?”

“No.”

Her heart sank. Not once throughout the day had she felt his gaze on her, and that knowledge chilled her. To have her mother confirm her suspicions—that he was ignoring her—only increased her concern for his welfare. “Did he eat?”

“No,” Spence said.

A man only fights,
querida,
when he has a reason to live.
So he assumed he had no reason to live, no reason to eat.

“Spence, will you put some food on a plate? I can get him to eat.”

“I’m not letting you approach him alone,” her father said.

“Isn’t he still chained?”

“Yes, but they have his hands in front of him now instead of behind his back. Seems rather risky to me. Even if he should happen to be…well, whoever he is—”

“I’ll be fine by myself,” she interrupted.

“I’ve no doubt about that, but still I shall accompany you—”

“Papa!” she snapped. Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around his. “I love you with all my heart, but I’m not a little girl any longer. I stood up to an outlaw, shot him—”

“You shot him?” Gray interrupted. “When he attacked you in the clearing?”

“He never attacked me. That was another man. I shot Lee during my botched escape. Then I tended his wound, fell in love with him, and betrayed him. Believe me, I can handle taking him something to eat by myself.” To soften the blow of her words, she brought her father’s hand to her lips and pressed his knuckles to her cheek. “Even though you were watching, I grew up.”

Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew the letter that she’d written when the future held promise. “I want you both to read this.”

“What is it?” her mother asked as she took it.

“A letter I wrote to you when I didn’t think I’d return to Fortune.” She rose to her feet and extended her hand. “Spence, the plate.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered smartly as he gave it to her.

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I will, however, escort you to the prisoner and then leave you.”

He intertwined his arm around hers before he started walking. As soon as she no longer felt the heat from the fire and knew her parents weren’t close enough to hear, she asked, “If I knew why he killed Floyd Shelby and told a judge, would it make a difference in his sentence?”

“Probably not. Hearsay, and all that. It would be rather like me telling your parents last night that you’d somehow managed to fall in love with an outlaw. I don’t think they truly believed it until
you
told them, just now.”

“Did they look shocked?”

“Devastated is a more accurate description. I don’t think he’s exactly what they had in mind for you.”

“Did you talk to him when you took him his food earlier?” she asked softly.

“I tried, but he took an instant dislike to me.”

She couldn’t stop the small smile from playing at the corner of her mouth. “He probably sensed the lawyer in you.”

“I’m not a lawyer yet. You have to be twenty-one to go before the licensing board.”

“You always wanted to grow up too fast,” she reminded him. “Did you like him?”

“Not particularly. He seemed a bit surly, but then under the circumstances, I suppose I would as well.”

“How is your father holding up?”

“Judging by the uncharacteristic manner in which he’s been avoiding everyone, I’d say not too well. Just so you’ll know, we have men standing at the perimeter, rifles at the ready.” He stopped walking. “Five steps and you’ll be at the entrance to the lion’s den. Good luck.”

She listened to his retreating footsteps and the pounding of her own heart. She hadn’t been this frightened when Lee had first grabbed her outside the bank. Cautiously she strolled forward and then lowered herself to her knees. “I brought you something to eat.”

She heard no clanking of chains and detected no movement of air. She set the plate on her lap. Reaching out with a trembling hand, she searched for his face. As soon as she touched his cheek, he jerked away. Pain ripped through her at his rejection. “Lee—”

“You knew they were waiting at the river. I saw it in your face, Angela, so don’t deny it.”

“Yes, I knew,” she whispered, clutching her hands together to stop herself from reaching for him again. “After you had the nightmare, after you drifted off to sleep, I went for a walk. I ran into Spence not far from the house.” She leaned toward him. “Lee, all the men you see here were outside waiting for dawn.” Tears stung her eyes. “All I could think was that you might be killed. Or Miguel. Juanita. My father.”

“You could have told me.”

“So you could have gotten killed trying to escape? Or killed someone to protect your family?”

“At least then I might have stood a chance. Your way guarantees me a trip to the gallows.”

She refused to believe he would hang. “When I asked you to leave me to the men who were following you, you wouldn’t because you didn’t know them. Lee, I
know these
men. I trust them. You can trust them.” Silence stretched between them. “You have the right to be angry, but not stupid.” She held out the plate. “You need to keep up your strength.”

The chains clanged as he pulled the plate from her hands.

“Why did you work diligently to convince me you were Mexican?” she asked.

“Because in my heart, I am.”

“That first night, after we…made love…were you afraid that I’d figure out who you were if I touched your face?”

“I thought you might realize what I was not.”

“What was that?”

“I thought I was not wanted. I’d always assumed I had been abandoned. I didn’t want you to know of my shame.”

Her heart constricted at the ravaged echo in his voice. “Do you understand now that you weren’t abandoned? I lost you—”

“No. You must stop blaming yourself for what happened before. For what happened today, you can blame yourself.”

His words stung just as she was certain he’d in
tended for them to. “Do you remember anything about your childhood?” she asked softly.

“I remember that I could always beat Alejandro in a scuffle.”

She’d assumed so much about his complexion that she hadn’t insisted that he reveal every shade of color, every hue. “What color are your eyes?”

“Blue. Like a sky at noon when the sun has washed away most of the color.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Just like Kit’s. Just like Spence’s. Just like Damon’s. They were always so clear. You’re Damon,” she rasped.

“No. Damon Rodriguez died the night Shelby attacked his family.”

The breath backed up painfully in her lungs. “Damon? Damon Rodriguez? They called you Damon?”

“It was my name, all I remembered.”

“When I told you that the child I lost was named ‘Damon,’ why didn’t you tell me who you were then?”

“Because I didn’t know for certain. It could have just been coincidence.”

“But we could have discussed it and determined the truth.”

“What then, Angela? Who I was before does not change the destiny of the man I have become. Instead, people will have to grieve the death of their son all over again. Can you imagine a crueler twist of fate?”

No, she couldn’t, but she’d learned long ago that Fate didn’t have a penchant for dealing a winning hand. “If you don’t tell them why you
killed Floyd Shelby, I will. I lost you once, I’m not willing to lose you again.”

“I have told you I took a vow to take that night to my grave. Betray me once more, and you’ll lose me…forever.”

Standing within the night shadows at the edge of the camp, Kit watched his prisoner.
His prisoner
. His son.

And Lee must truly be his son. It was like looking at his reflection in a distant, smoky mirror. Dear God, but Kit would have recognized him anywhere. Fifteen years. And not a day had passed when he hadn’t thought of the son that had been lost to him. Inexplicably, he’d never thought of the lad as growing any older.

He shifted his gaze slightly as Harry came to stand beside him. His trustworthy friend had apparently determined that Kit had wallowed in his misery alone long enough.

“How will I tell Ashton?” Kit rasped. He squeezed his eyes shut, and a hot tear leaked onto his cheek. “Dear God, Harry, when we found his bloodied clothes, I was certain he was dead. How do I tell her now that I was wrong?”

“His clothes were tattered and bloody. I drew the same conclusion. You had to put an end to your suffering and hers. It was time to put the hope to rest.”

Wearily Kit shook his head. “The hope never went away. Still, I can’t let her watch him hang. I can’t let her know now, without any doubt, that our son is dead.” He slumped against the tree and
dragged his fingers through his hair. “I have spent twenty years enforcing the laws of this state, and my son grew up to represent everything I loathed.”

He pressed his clenched fist against his chest. “It bloody well hurts, Harry. The years with him that were lost to us, the man he is, the man I had dreamed of him becoming the first time I held him within my arms.”

Harry released a great gust of air. “God help me as well, my daughter has fallen in love with the rapscallion.”

Kit grimaced. “She’s always loved Damon—”

“She didn’t know he was Damon when she fell in love with him. His accent led her to believe he was Mexican. She had only a vague notion of what he looked like and had no hint whatsoever that he might be Damon.”

“Regardless, her feelings don’t change what he did.”

“You’ve killed.”

Kit’s stomach lurched. “Don’t travel that path, Harry,” he warned.

“I’ve killed. By God, my wife has killed. Who is to say his actions were not as justified as ours?”

“A judge. He has been tried and convicted.”

“I studied him the entire time Angela was with him. I’ve spent too many years learning to gauge the merits of men, and at the risk of sounding arrogant, I’m damn good at it. Take a closer look at him, Kit. He might be worth saving.”