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Isabella bent down and worked her arm under the wagon. “Why do you say this?”
“Because the last man who tried that got his throat ripped out.”
She didn’t even blink, just scrounged deeper. “Then it is good we have reached an understanding.”
Sam supposed it was. The view she was unwittingly giving him of her rear was also good. So much so she had to repeat herself when she needed his help. Bracing her palm on the bed, she said, “You must lift the wagon again. I cannot get my bag out.”
Her bag. The wagon. Shit. He couldn’t afford to be this distracted. “Got it.”
In a matter of seconds she had the small satchel out. She’d packed light. Too light to plan on having more than one change of clothes. Too light to have any resource once she arrived at her destination. “Who’d you say you were running from?”
“I did not say I was running.”
He reached down and helped her to her feet. The top of her head came to the center of his chest. She just seemed bigger. “But you are. And a little thing like you needs all the help she can get.”
“I am not little.”
“Petite then.” He tugged her toward Breeze, who was patiently waiting. Kell fell into step beside them.
“I am not this petite either.”
“You’re taking two steps to my one,” he pointed out.
“You are a giant.”
He took her satchel and hooked it over the saddle horn, hiding a grin. Her height, or lack thereof, was obviously a sore spot, “How about tiny? Can you live with tiny?”
“No.”
Her nails dug into his wrists just atop his gloves, the gloves he resented because they kept him from feeling the softness of her skin.
“Wait. We have to bury them.”
“Duchess, whoever did this is probably still around. That being the case, we don’t have time to dig holes.”
Her lips flattened. “You must.”
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“I owe them.”
“I thought the padre arranged the deal.”
“But I was to provide money.”
For all her high manners she didn’t look like she had two coins to rub together. “Did you have any?”
“No.”
She said it as if those four men would have traveled anywhere with something as sweet as her without taking their payment out of her hide. “They would have been ticked when they found out.”
“Yes.”
“You’d have probably ended up on your back working the cost off.”
She didn’t look shocked. “It was a possibility.”
A woman would have to be seven kinds of desperate to take off with those odds staring down at her. She headed toward the front of the wagon where there was a gap between the ground and the sides. He grabbed her arm, pulling her up short.
“What the hell kind of trouble are you in?”
She looked at him with big brown eyes that were the color of warm chocolate. Eyes that forgave him ahead of time for the desertion she expected. “Tejala wants me as his intended.”
“Interesting phrasing. I take it you are not in agreement?”
“No.”
From what Sam knew of Tejala, Isabella’s objections would mean nothing. “So what are you going to do after you reach San Antonio?”
“That is not your concern.”
She was right. It wasn’t. She likely wasn’t even a Texas citizen. He could walk away and no one would hold him accountable. Tension arced between them, extending from his shoulder down his arm to his grip. Beneath his hand, her muscles jerked, sending the tension right back. She was a strange mix of courage and desperation. Innocence and sass. A smart man would leave her and her problems to her people to sort out. She licked her lips again, the gesture leaving the bottom one invitingly wet and pink. Vulnerable.
He swung up on Breeze. “Maybe not, but I’ve decided to make it mine.”
And maybe her right along with it.
Chapter 2
The woman was as infuriating as all get-out. Sass, spit and fire with an autocratic manner that was bred into her bones, she didn’t shake an idea once she had hold of it. And the only idea she had her teeth sunk into right now was that San Antonio was her safe haven. She was determined to get there, by herself if Sam wouldn’t take her. On the hard-used nag they’d come upon about a half mile from the massacre. As if he’d let that happen. The woman would be raped or dead within minutes of striking out. But she didn’t see it that way.
“There are laws against capturing a woman against her will,” Isabella pointed out in that logical tone in which she’d been presenting all her arguments for the last few hours.
Sam glanced over his shoulder to where she rode just behind. “You don’t say.”
“Yes.” She kicked her horse, an animal who wore its hard life in the scars on his hide, to force it to catch up. “I believe it is a hang by the neck offense.”
“Damn. Guess I’m in trouble then.” He motioned to the horse with his cigarette when she kicked it again. “You’re hurting him for no reason. He’s got bad knees. It pains him just to walk.”
His opinion of her went up a notch when she immediately stopped kicking and started petting and crooning to the animal. It took a nosedive when she stopped the animal and dismounted. It was more of a slide and tumble than a dismount, but since she landed on her feet, he’d call it that.
“What are you doing now?”
She pushed the too-big hat back from where it flopped over her face. “Walking.”
Kell growled. She cut him a glare. He didn’t stop growling but he did sit with a look at Sam that clearly said he expected him to handle the crazy woman so they could be on their way.
“If I thought the horse couldn’t carry you, I would have shot him when you brought him forward.”
She gasped. “You would not shoot Sweet Pea!”
If that didn’t add insult to injury. “You named the poor thing Sweet Pea?”
She bristled and patted the black’s shoulder. “It is a good name. He is very sweet.”
“Well, being sweet isn’t something a man wants shouted to all and sundry, so you might want to not call him that in front of the other horses.”
For a split second she looked concerned and he wanted to smile, but then she caught on with a shake of her head.
“You make fun, because I do not want to hurt him.”
He made fun because she was sexy as all get-out when those deep brown eyes gathered sparks and anger drew that full mouth further into a pout that naturally had a man wanting to lean in and kiss it soft again. “Just a little.”
How a woman so short standing so far beneath him could manage to look down her nose at him was a mystery, but she managed it. “This makes you not so nice as a person.”
“I never said I was nice.”
“No,” she sighed. “You did not.”
He dismounted and came around to her side. Her whole body went taut.
“What do you do?”
“I’m going to help you back up.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Unless you think you can get up by yourself?”
The horse might be broken down, but he stood sixteen hands easily, too big for her to just hop up.
If looks could kill he’d be dead but she was gracious in her defeat. “Thank you.”
He ground his smoke out in the dirt.
She frowned at the gesture. “You smoke too much.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“It would be good that you do.”
Turning, she raised her arms and waited. He probably should tell her she just needed to present her foot. He admired the line of her back, the dramatic flare to her build, but since he’d already admitted he wasn’t nice, there wasn’t actually a need.
Her waist easily accepted the span of his hands. Damn, the woman was built for a man’s pleasure. With a heft he had her up. For a second her hips were mouth level. His mouth watered. The complete unawareness in her “thank you” as she grabbed hold of the saddle horn and fumbled for the stirrup was like a splash of cold water. He was lusting after an innocent. After checking her stirrups and unwrapping the reins from around her palms while she stared at him, oblivious to the havoc she wrought, he headed back to Breeze. Kell chuffed as he passed.
“You want to deal with her?” he asked under his breath. The dog walked away. “That’s what I thought.
“Town is just over the next rise,” he said as he got back in the saddle. He reached for his makings.
Isabella frowned. He pulled the pouch out. She sighed and shook her head. He smiled and pulled out a paper. “There might be a hotel. You’ll be able to take a bath.”
Her mouth set tighter and her chin went higher. She clearly wasn’t in a mood to be placated.
“Everything’s bound to look better when you’ve got yourself set to rights.”
“Even being dead or captured by others?”
She did have a dramatic turn. “The word you’re looking for is kidnapped.” He tapped tobacco into the paper. “But being all cleaned up would save time for the undertaker.”
She clearly didn’t appreciate his sense of humor.
“I would prefer he have to work.”
Even with promise of an honest-to-goodness bath, a luxury every woman had to crave after time on the trail, Isabella was being stubborn. Sam wasn’t entirely sure what to do about that. A woman not getting excited about a bath was downright unnatural.
Not that he’d spent a lot of time with women outside the bedroom. There just hadn’t been the opportunity. Nor, he admitted in a moment of honesty, the inclination. At least on his part. He wasn’t a man who liked ties though plenty of women had attempted to tie themselves to him. He rolled his smoke and put his makings back in his pocket.
They topped the rise. The town, such as it was, came into view. Ten ramshackle buildings formed an uneven cross in the middle of nowhere. It was doubtful a town so small had a hotel. He hoped to hell Kell had town manners.
“You might be right about that bath.”
“I am right on many things.”
He smiled, struck the sulphur and lit his smoke. She did stick to her guns. The ride to the edge of town was completed in tense silence. As they cleared the first building a sign on the third one down caught his eye: Hotel.
“Looks like you might get that bath after all.”
Isabella’s response was a harsh gasp. He’d heard that sound too many times before to mistake it for anything but fear. Looking over his shoulder, he had a clear view of her. Not her expression as the hat had slipped over her face, but he was able to determine the direction she was looking. Her attention was focused down the street to where five horses were tied outside the saloon. One of them was a paint with distinctive markings.
As if his glance was a cue, five men came stumbling through the doorway of the saloon, spilling onto the dirt street in a drunken roar of laughter. Breeze whinnied. Kell snarled and dropped his head, ears flat to his skull in warning. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Sweet Pea’s head jerk as Isabella yanked him to a halt.
The men looked their way then dismissed them as yet another couple of saddle bums blowing into town on the good weather. As long as no one looked too closely, they’d be fine, but Sam wasn’t going to hinge Isabella’s safety on a hope that flimsy.
Backing Breeze up until he could reach over and grab Sweet Pea’s reins, he tugged them out of Isabella’s hands. It wasn’t hard. She was still staring at the men, her face a chalky white. Keeping his voice low and soothing, he ordered, “Duchess, I want you to throw your leg over to this side and slide on down.”
The shake of her head was barely discernible. He was tired, hungry and even if she didn’t want that bath, he sure did. And the sooner he settled this, the sooner he could set about enjoying the pleasures of town. “Do as I say.”
The order had no more effect on her than the last. Leaning over, he handled the matter by grabbing her forearm and giving a tug. Instinct had her grabbing for the saddle horn with a high-pitched, undeniably feminine squeal as she listed to the side. Fortunately, Sweet Pea stood solid. Unfortunately, the men heard, stopped and looked back. They exchanged words. Pointed. Retraced their steps.
Sam untied his shotgun from its sheath, doublechecking to make sure it was loaded before sliding it back in. He pulled his revolver from its holster and rested his arm across the saddle as if he had nothing better to do on a hot, sunny afternoon but sit in the middle of the street. “Isabella, go on into the hotel.”
For once she didn’t argue with him, scooting behind the horse and up onto the wooden walk. The glances the men shot Bella as she stood at the door provided a good clue to the topic of their conversation.
“Get inside, Bella.”
“It is locked.”
Shit.
“Knock.”
The bandits were an ugly-looking bunch, none too clean, but colorful in their assortment of clothing. Their spurs clinked softly as they swaggered forward. That swagger worried him. It meant they felt pretty comfortable doing whatever they planned on doing.
