Almost an Outlaw (4 page)

She backed her mare up, considering her options. The only way to escape was through the woods. If she could make it into the woods, she could double back to Wolf Creek. Her chest tightened as adrenaline pumped through her body. The brush was heavy on either side of the dirt road. Vaulting into it would be punishing on both her and the mare.

“He’s not here to save you, dressmaker.”

She straightened in the saddle as that comment grabbed her attention.

Wallace continued in his lovely voice. “Your newfound admirer. The one they called the White Comanche. He saved you a long time ago but not now.”

Fury replaced her fear. She went for the carbine in her saddle holster. Her hand never even touched the stock of the rifle. She screamed as Wallace wielded a keen leather whip that landed with precision across her right wrist, cutting through her kidskin glove. She grabbed her burning wrist.

“That’s what you get for being foolish,” he said smugly as he rode forward, stopping his horse beside hers. He was close, close enough so she could see the prominent veins in his wide forehead and the shadows beneath his dark eyes. “I am named after the archangel, Gabriel. He was the messenger of God.”

She gripped the reins to her mare, preparing to make a run for it.

“I have a message for your cousins and for all those who protect them.” His voice changed to a thundering baritone. “It’s from the Book of Revelation, Chapter 6, Verse 8. ‘And I looked. And behold a pale horse, and his name that sat upon him was Death, and Hell followed with him.’”

Ignoring her bleeding wrist, she gave her horse a kick. The mare charged forward, running at full gallop while Darcy hung on tight. She fully expected to be hit by a bullet at any second. Much to her surprise, there was no bullet forthcoming as she headed toward town, riding harder than she had ever ridden in her life.

Gabriel Wallace watched the young widow disappear around the bend and he smiled to himself.
Know thy prey.
His prey might be outlaws but they were also gentleman. Their code of honor went back centuries, to the time of knights who took up the defense of women without question. Once the frightened widow delivered his message, he knew they would they would be coming for him. They would have no choice. The dark verse contained its own significance. They would know he had taken the life of Cole’s favorite whore and they would assume he might kill again. He had accosted their cousin, whom he could have easily killed. Who would be next? Their sisters? Their sweethearts? They would not take any chances.

The Boys would be on the hunt for him.

All he had to do was lie in wait.

At dusk, Austin rode back into town. He noticed the dark clouds gathering against the western horizon. In this part of the country, spring ushered in unpredictable weather. It was unseasonably warm. No doubt there was a storm over the plains and it was coming this way.

He shed his duster after he boarded his horse at the livery and carried the coat over his shoulder as he headed for the hotel restaurant. After devouring a quick dinner, he went upstairs to his room, ready to call it an evening. He entered the dark room, hung his coat beside the door and yawned as he stretched his arms.

“Austin—”

He jerked around, startled by the sound of Darcy’s voice. He saw a shadowy figure sitting in the armchair by the window. He lit the lamp on the dresser and turned the wick up to illuminate the room. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t hearing and seeing things. She was there, much to his surprise, sitting in the armchair. As always she was dressed properly in black silk, but this time she wore her hair down and tied back with a white ribbon. Her cheeks were white, void of their usual blush.

“Darcy?” He softened his tone as he approached her. “Are you all right?”

She glanced up at him. “Oh, yes. Of course. I’m fine,” she said but he wasn’t convinced. Her voice sounded too hollow.

“What are you doing here?”

She tapped her hands in her lap. “I have been waiting for you.”

The only ring she wore was her wedding band. He looked away, troubled more than he cared to admit by the sight of the gold band. “So, why have you been waiting for me?”

She didn’t look up. “I know where your horse is.”

“What?” He straightened, shocked by that news.

“The mare you’re looking for. The expensive one you said Billy Wise stole from you. I know where that horse is.”

“How do you know where my horse is?”

“I bought the mare from Billy Wise,” she confessed with a droop of her shoulders.

“You bought her?”

“Last week, Billy stopped by Henry Gibson’s farm,” she answered. “Henry is an elderly man who knew my parents. Sometimes he worked for my father, doing odd jobs. Ever since I moved back here, I have tried to help him and Matthew get by. Matt is eleven. He’s an orphan whom Henry took in a few years ago,” she explained. “Billy claimed he had won the horse in a poker game, and he said he needed traveling money. I gave him a hundred dollars for the horse.”

“He sold Midnight Dancer for a hundred dollars!” That was an insult to his horse.

“I thought that was a lot,” she remarked and he glared at her. She didn’t know her horses.

“Where is she?”

“I gave her to Matthew.”

“You gave her away?”

“Matthew had been tending to her for Billy. I could see how much he loved the horse and he’s had so little in his life. I bought her so he could have her. He named her Morning Star.”

“I want her back,” Austin said flatly.

“Very well. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to get your horse if you promise me you’ll go home. There’s no future here for you.”

Stung by her words, he frowned. “You’re that eager to get rid of me?”

She chewed on her bottom lip as a tear streaked down her cheek. He swore as she wiped the tear away, but another one followed. He stalked over to the fireplace and stirred the embers. “I can’t stand for a woman to cry. I’d really appreciate it if you would stop.”

She nodded and he saw she was battling to keep her emotions in check. He had never meant to make her so miserable. He had never loved and lost the way she had. “Darcy, if this about the ring and what I said, well, I take it all back. My mother never stopped wearing her wedding band either. It meant a great deal to her.”

Darcy sighed. “I don’t wear the ring for the reasons you think I do. It’s not about love. Stephen never loved me.” That admission surprised Austin.

She went on. “Long before he met me, he fell in love with Amelia Fletcher”

Her husband had loved another woman? Austin wondered how she could have married a man who didn’t love her and why on earth was she still wearing her wedding band. “You knew he loved someone else and you still married him?”

“I didn’t know that at the time. I thought he loved me but I found out later the only reason he married me was because his parents were insisting he take a wife.”

“Did you love him?” Austin hoped she would say no, she hated his guts.

With her head bowed, she nodded. He heard her sniffle. Silently, he swore and aloud he said, “Darcy, you don’t have to say any more. I understand.”

She lifted her head. “No, you don’t.” She stood as if it were unbearable to sit any longer. “But I want you to understand.” She gave him a pleading gaze and he was tempted to haul her into his arms and tell her the past didn’t need to be understood. It just needed to be forgotten.

“Stephen and Amelia were Romeo and Juliet. That’s how I have always thought of them because their families hated each other. Their grandfathers had been business partners, who ended up despising one another,” she said. “Amelia married Patrick Fletcher, Stephen’s best friend. They were often our dinner guests and our companions at social functions.

“For the first year, I had quite a grand life. Stephen’s family owned the Branson Mining Company. His father gave us a beautiful home for our wedding gift. My grandfather, Doctor Andrew Howard, who was close friends with Stephen’s father, surprised us with new furniture and a beautiful carriage for our wedding present. Our families were very pleased with the match. I was happy and I thought Stephen was happy.”

She touched her wedding band as she spoke. “Time went by and I noticed how different Stephen seemed when Amelia was present. How his smile was genuine.”

Austin noticed the change in her voice. The soft rage that slipped into it.

“I began to pay attention,” she said as she turned to the window, staring out into the night as she continued. “I saw the looks they shared. The smiles across the dinner table. At parties, sometimes, they would both disappear. I realized it wasn’t me he loved. My heart was broken.”

“You should’ve left the cheating sonofabitch,” Austin blurted out, angry at the man who had hurt her.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Yes, I should have left and I wish I had. You cannot know how much I wish I had packed up my things and said goodbye.”

The regret she expressed drew him to her side. He draped his arm around her back and rubbed her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You did what any lady would have done. You kept your vows.” He felt her shoulder sag.

“I killed them.”

“What?” He blinked, startled by her admission.

“Stephen had a luxury suite in one of the hotels in San Francisco that he said he kept reserved for his clients. I started following him and I found out that was where they secretly met every week.” She stopped a moment and took a deep breath. “I wanted to expose them. I wanted the scandal to ruin their reputations. I planned to make them as miserable as they had made me.”

She let out a long sigh. “While Stephen and Amelia were having their weekly rendezvous at the hotel, I went to see Amelia’s husband, Patrick. I had hoped for an ally. Instead, Patrick accused me of lying about Amelia and of being jealous of her because she was so beautiful. I challenged Patrick to come with me to the hotel. I wanted him to see for himself what kind of woman he had married and what kind of man pretended to be his best friend. I truly don’t recall ever being more furious.”

She rubbed her forehead. “I remember entering the hotel with Patrick walking sullenly beside me. I had a key to the room.” She explained how she had stopped by the hotel earlier that morning and told the desk clerk she needed the spare key to her husband’s suite. “As we walked down the hallway, I wondered how Stephen and Amelia would explain themselves. I hoped I wouldn’t laugh too hysterically.

“I didn’t laugh at all.” She dropped down in the armchair as if she could no longer stand. “It happened so fast. Patrick went into a rage when he saw them. I didn’t know he had a gun.” She shook her head. “He started shooting. Stephen first, Amelia next and then he turned the gun on himself.

“Stephen lived a few minutes. Long enough for me to tell him I was sorry. And I’ve apologized every day since then. I know they did wrong too, but I should have handled the situation differently. If I had, they would still be alive.”

In some ways, Austin understood how she felt. “I wasn’t home the night my mother was killed. I went on a five-year rampage, trying to settle the score and make myself feel better.” He took off his gun belt, put it on the dresser and walked over to the washstand. “I’ve learned guilt is just a way of punishing yourself. It serves no good purpose.”

As he splashed water on his face, he heard the rustle of her skirts as she got to her feet. He mopped his face with a towel as he glanced her way. She stood with her back to him, looking out the window again. Blonde curls trailed down her back and her bottom was hidden beneath a protrusion of silk ruffles and pleats. Topping off her bustle was a wide black bow.

He grinned as he admired the big bow riding high on her hips. She was like a pretty package. A gift all wrapped up in black. He wanted to unwrap her. Slowly.

“Storm’s coming,” she remarked quietly as a distant flash of light illuminated the dark horizon.

As far as he was concerned, the storm was already here. Inside him. He walked over to the window where she stood, drawn by a force he could not resist.

As he touched her hair, she told herself she should go. Staying was not wise. She knew exactly where that would lead, yet she remained. She closed her eyes and imagined his hands on her flesh and his mouth on hers, kissing her so deep and long she could not breathe. He was the first man she had ever longed to lie down with. It was a strange feeling, new to her even though she had been married. Stephen had not come to her bed often because he claimed a gentleman did not inflict himself on his wife any more than necessary. Sex had been perfunctory, unimportant to her. She had never known what it was like to feel such an arousing hunger for a man’s touch.

She wanted to be his.

She knew all she had to do was turn around.

“Darcy—” His husky voice revealed both his desire and desperation.

She turned around.

He pinned her with a knowing gaze and drew her to him. The atmosphere seemed suddenly charged with their passion. She had no shame or control as her mouth eagerly sought his. She angled her head as his lips urgently brushed over hers, coaxing them open with his wet tongue. He slowly explored her mouth and the delicious sensation caused her to sway against him. Grasping his strong shoulders for support, she ignored the dull pain across her right wrist. He kissed the soft hollow of her throat as he thumbed open the buttons of her bodice.

She caressed his dark hair as she gave in to the strong urges taking control of her body. The arousal she felt was disconcerting but she had no will to stop him. She helped him disrobe her body. She wanted to be free of her clothes. As he tugged her bodice past her arms, the fabric scraped across the red welt on her wrist. She let out a small cry.

“What is it?” he said in surprise.

“Nothing. I burned my wrist ironing this afternoon,” she lied smoothly as she carefully slid her wrist and hand out of the sleeve.

“I’m sorry.” He stroked her arm gingerly.

She didn’t want to dwell on her injury or the man who had inflicted it. Not now. She gave Austin a kiss. Then she discarded her skirt, bustle and petticoat.

Amused, he said, “Beats me as to why women wear so much clothing.”

She shrugged. “It’s fashionable.” As she started to unhook her corset, she noticed the hungry glint in his gray eyes. She wet her lips, wondering if she had taken on more than she could handle. “Are you going to keep your clothes on?” she asked pointedly.

It took him a lot less time to shed his clothing and he didn’t have the patience to wait on her. The bedsprings creaked as he dropped onto the mattress with her. He tugged her chemise over her head and tossed it aside. She was naked in his arms and there was no turning back now.

She closed her eyes as he ran his hands over her body. Leisurely stroking her arms, back and hips. His touch was relaxing and comforting. She practically purred against his throat. Nuzzling the salty flesh of his neck, she did some exploring of her own. She raked her fingertips down his breastbone into the thatch of hair in the center of his chest and over the solid muscles of his torso. “You would make a good model.”

“A what?” He lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes.

“A model. You know, all the great artists, like Michelangelo, had models pose for them to paint. Sometimes naked,” she added like someone divulging an outrageous secret.

His gray eyes widened. Then his mouth curved into a smile that became a laugh. One he could not control. His body shook with laughter as he fell back on the mattress. She had no idea why he thought what she’d said was so funny, but it was the first time she had seen him laugh. Laughter was becoming on him, and she had never wanted anything more than she wanted him.

He pinned her with a knowing gaze as his laughter faded. He drew her to him. She had no shame or control as she sank down on his body. Their lips melted together as their hands clasped together. Fingers laced, then splayed.

“You want to know something?” She smiled as she pulled her mouth from his.

“I never noticed how much you talk until now.”

She walked her fingers across his chest. “You’re a better kisser than you were years ago.”

“So are you.” He hooked his arm around her and rolled her onto her back. More kisses followed as he nipped the soft flesh of her throat and lifted her breast to his lips. She pressed her fist against her mouth to stifle her cries when his tongue stroked over her nipple. Her hips rocked in response to the fiery sensations burning in her loins. She found herself delighting in the passion overwhelming her, despite knowing no true lady would ever display such risqué behavior.

The headmistress at the San Francisco Academy for Young Ladies would be horrified to see the academy’s star pupil now. She had barely completed that thought when he pressed his hand between her thighs. The touch sent a jolt through her body. “Austin,” she gasped and he gently kissed her neck and reassured her as his intimate exploration of her body became bold and deep. She warmed to his touch, relaxing and opening.