Belle Gone Bad (8 page)

A
fter they'd eaten and let the fire burn low, Belle took the first watch. She doubted that she'd wake Mercy for his turn. He desperately needed sleep whereas she could get by on cat naps. As far as she could tell, they were safe here where they could catch their breath.

Mercy had rolled up in his blanket and almost instantly begun a light snore. That'd left Belle alone with her thoughts. She was glad for it. So much had happened so fast that she needed time to catch up with events.

Although she'd been upset at taking a tenderfoot with her, Mercy had grown on her. He didn't complain although he had to be in pain and weak from fever. He revealed his inner strength without big words or bold actions. She wasn't used to a subtle man. She'd even started to appreciate his gentleness, his humor, his view of the world. He balanced her in a way she'd never considered important before today.

Yet none of that explained Mercy's effect on her. After Hackett, she'd never thought another man could arouse her passion. Maybe Mercy did because he was so different or because she'd been so long alone. She accepted that no one could ever meet Hackett's standards, but now she realized that she could appreciate another type of man.

Not that she wanted any of these feelings resurrected, particularly before she'd obtained justice for Tex and Hackett. Still, she'd been thrust into a new battle, one with blurred lines and heightened emotions. Somehow she must keep her wits about her and resist her longing for Mercy, a feeling that had arisen most likely from loneliness more than reality.

An owl hooted overhead, reminding her that it was the harbinger of death, change, and knowledge. She felt a chill run up her spine. Too much about this journey brought magic and mayhem into her life. She didn't want either, not anymore. She wanted justice first, then peace and quiet.

She sipped water from her canteen as she listened to night sounds, staying alert for human intrusion. If all around her became quiet, she'd know people were coming close. For now she heard the rustle of small critters in the grass, the swish of horse tails, and the plop of frogs leaping into the stream. A coyote howled in the distance and was answered by other coyotes. She shivered again as she listened to the eerie, haunting cries.

As the night grew deeper, she felt sleepier. She poked the embers of the campfire to keep it alive and glanced at Mercy in the glow. He moved restlessly, breath coming harder. She placed a hand on his shoulder and patted the strong muscle. He stilled, as if finding comfort in her touch.

She leaned back against the tree trunk to get more comfortable. She shut her eyes, drifting toward sleep, enjoying the peace. Suddenly, a harsh cry jerked her fully awake. All her senses went on alert. She put a hand over her pounding heart as she glanced around the area.

Mercy thrashed in his sleep as if he were fighting someone for his life. He groaned as he struggled in his twisted blanket.

She'd never seen anyone caught in such a bad nightmare. She reached over and shook his shoulder to awaken him. At first he didn't respond, but then he growled and threw off his blanket. He grasped her hand and jerked her down beside him with surprising strength. Before she could do more than yelp, he rolled over on top of her and pinned her beneath his hard body. He pushed long fingers into her hair and held her head still for a searing kiss.

She was so shocked that she didn't move for a moment, but then her body woke up and responded to his touch. She wanted his kiss to deepen. She wanted to feel his hard body move over her. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and tug him closer. But she knew that was a risk better not taken.

As he pressed heated kisses to her lips, nibbling her soft flesh, she realized that he had to be asleep or in a fever-induced trance. She doubted if he knew where he was or whom he was with. He was simply consumed with passion. It was a situation fraught with all types of problems.

Yet she felt his heat penetrate her deeper and deeper until her own long buried desire caught fire. She pushed up against his hard shaft, and he ground down against her softness. If she'd been hot before, now she turned molten as her inner core grew damp with burning, pulsing need. She gasped for breath, as he tore away from her mouth to kiss and nibble his way down her throat.

Shocked at her own response and where he was taking them, she tried to pull away, but he growled deep in his throat and held her tight.

She had to stop their actions while she still had the will to do so. She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled his head back.

“Mercy, wake up!”

His eyes remained closed even as he pushed his cock, separated from her by nothing more than their clothes, harder against her sensitive nub.

“Mercy!” She fought his desire as she fought her own.

He breathed in short gasps, as if running a race, as he grasped her breasts and squeezed with both hands.

She slapped his face, putting enough force behind the act that a sharp crack ricocheted into the night. Everything around them went quiet.

Mercy slowly opened his eyes and blinked at her in confusion.

“It's me, Belle. Please, wherever you are, come back. Mercy, be here now!”

He continued to stare at her, as if frozen in time.

She racked her mind for his real name. Maybe his new name meant nothing to him in this state. She couldn't remember. It'd been something unwieldy. And then it came to her. “Theodore Lafayette Huntingdon, be here now. Be here!”

He blinked and rubbed his jaw. “Belle?”

“Get off me, you big oaf.”

He looked down at her, and a slow smile tweaked his lips. “Did I miss something important?”

“Where were you?”

He glanced away, frowned, and then smiled. “You have a powerful effect on me, even in my sleep.” He rolled to his side, clasped her hand, and pushed it against the bulge in his trousers.

She was shocked at his boldness and the tingling in her palm where she touched the long, hard length of him. She jerked her hand away, sat up, and put distance between them. “I doubt that has anything to do with me.”

He shrugged his wide shoulders. “You're wrong. As much as it pains me to admit it, I've been unable to do that since . . . well, for a long time.”

“I find that difficult to believe. Are all those carvings, drawings, and paintings of naked ladies products of your imagination?”

“I never forget a face or figure. It's my gift and my curse.”

“In that case, I guess you've known more than a few ladies. And your art admirers surely believe you're the most virile man on Earth.”

He smiled. “I wouldn't want to disappoint them, now would I?” She rolled her eyes.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. I tried saying your name, but—”

“I heard you, but I couldn't get back.”

“Where were you?”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“I've seen more in life than you can imagine.”

“This is different.”

“How was Diana helping you?”

“She has ways of reaching into—”

“And confronting someone elsewhere?”

His eyes widened in astonishment.

“I may be able to help.” She pushed her hair back from her face where he'd pulled it from her chignon. She was beginning to understand his problem and why a regular doctor couldn't help. Yet she didn't want to get involved, particularly not with something as volatile as this appeared to be. She felt the tingling in the skin over her heart again, so she suspected that she had little choice. If you were called, you answered to the best of your ability.

“I doubt it. You're a bounty hunter and good at it from what I hear. You can track. You can trail. You can find folks. But my problem is not one you can solve.”

She didn't care for his dismissal of her talents. She was reluctant, but she most likely had the ability, even if rusty, to help him. “I fear you won't reach Diana in time.”

“No choice.” He picked up his canteen and took a long drink of water. “Wish I had whiskey.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Diana?”

“No. The woman who won't let you go.”

“I don't know what you mean.” He gave Belle a searching look and then furtively glanced away.

“Tell me.”

He screwed the lid back on his canteen and threw it hard against the ground. “You won't believe a word I say. You'll think I've lost my mind. Then you'll leave me high and dry.”

“What's her name?”

“Leave it be.”

“No. Tell me.”

He ran a hand through his thick hair. “I guess we've come this far together, we might as well go on. You made a good guess. There's a woman involved.”

“And?”

“Her name is
Victoria
.”

“Beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“Sensuous?”

“Yes.”

“Vindictive?”

“Yes.”

“And what's your problem with her?”

“She cursed me.”

Belle felt her world tilt and spin in a kaleidoscope of colors as a vision of Victoria came to her. Black hair. Pale skin. Russet eyes. Red lips. Those lips framed sharp, white teeth in a hungry mouth that opened and said, “Theo is mine! Leave him or I'll curse you to the ends of eternity.”

Belle ripped open her blouse, grabbed Mercy's left hand, and pressed it flat against the skin over her heart. “Victoria,” she hissed, “Mercy . . . Theo now resides in the heart of Spider Grandmother's web. If you dare to enter, you will be devoured.”

And Victoria's image disappeared in a flash.

“Belle?” Mercy stroked the upper slope of her breast. “Is there something you ought to tell me?”

M
ercy watched as Belle abruptly stood up and walked to the other side of the campfire. She stared at him, an unfathomable look in her eyes.

He stared back, feeling energy and strength and focus well up in him such as he hadn't felt in over a year. He was no longer sick.

Smiling, he took a deep breath to steady the impulse to leap up and shout his happiness to the heavens. Most of all, he wanted to grab Belle and dance . . . waltz or hoedown, either would satisfy him. But the look in her eyes stopped him. She didn't appear poised to share his happiness. Instead, she'd put the campfire between them as a defense. He felt his enthusiasm fade.

“I need to understand your situation,” Belle said. “Victoria cursed you?”

“Yes.” He shrugged, as if he could make light of the serious matter. “She couldn't take away my desires, dreams, or memories. But if she couldn't enjoy me in bed, no woman would have me.”

“And you believe she has this ability?”

“Yes.” He more than believed it. He'd been living it. But he didn't add any more fuel to Belle's growing fire.

“You do understand that ‘curse' is a simple word, and it's probably not accurate for a complex set of circumstances.”

“I don't care what you call it. She got mad at me and cursed me.”

“How did she gain this ability?”

“Far as I know, she's trained.”

“Where? Who? How?”

He shrugged. “I met her in Massachusetts. We didn't discuss it.”

“We may need to know more about her.”

“Why? You sent her packing. All I'd like to know now is how the hell you did it.”

“Why haven't you learned more about her?”

“I got away. That's the best I could do at the time.” He rubbed his sore jaw. “I hate to say it, but I hope what you did was the end of it or she might be more than my problem now.”

“What do you mean?”

“She's a mighty jealous woman.”

“You think she'd come after me, too?”

“I left her. In her mind, no man does that. And now I'm with you. Add it up.”

“If she's smart, she'll move on with her life.”

“She's smart, but she's not like you.”

“If she understands power, she'll leave us alone.”

“Let's forget Victoria.” He patted the blanket beside him.

“Come on back and get comfortable.”

She hesitated, appearing torn about what to do.

“Now that I'm well, I'm not going to bite.” He grinned. “At least, not too much.”

She chuckled. “Are you sure you're well?”

“Yes. And thank you.”

She sat down beside him. “Why don't you get some sleep?”

“Not on your life.” He grinned, patting her knee. “I haven't felt so much energy in ages.”

“I hope it lasts.”

He looked her over, smiling suggestively. “It'll last long enough.”

“For what?”

“Long enough to let an Eastern tenderfoot show a Texas lady what he's best at doing.”

“I thought that was art.”

“Merely a sideline.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You sound entirely too pleased with yourself.”

“You would be, too, if you'd thought never to experience passion again.” He placed a hand protectively over his shaft. “You broke Victoria's curse. I owe it all to you.” He reached out and lifted her chin with one fingertip. “I'm willing to share.”

She pulled back. “You better get some sleep while you can.”

He lowered his hand but not his expectations. “You're not indifferent to me.”

“I don't even know you.”

He moved closer to her. “Let's pretend we're strangers in the night. This is all the time we'll ever have together.”

“So we make the most of it?”

“Exactly.”

“Mercy, I don't know what kind of world you lived in back East, but that's not the way we do things out here.”

“Do you need commitment?”

“No. I mean, I don't know.”

“Let me do the thinking for us. You've been carrying the load for two, so let me help. I'll make your world all bright and shiny again.”

“That makes me think of Hackett. I can't be unfaithful to him.”

“It's been a long time for you, too?”

She sighed.

“Don't you miss the closeness, the pleasure?”

She sighed again.

“Let me please you as a thank-you for what you've done for me.”

“You would be a disappointment.”

“Excuse me?” He felt the shock of her words hit him like a lightning bolt. Mercy had never disappointed a woman in his life. Then again, he hadn't tried in a long time. Still, he couldn't imagine forgetting how to love a lady.

“No one could ever live up to Hackett. He was perfect in every way.”

“He was a man, wasn't he?”

“Yes.”

“That means he put on his trousers one leg at a time just like every other man.”

“You don't understand. He was the perfect symbol of justice, goodness, and fairness.”

“And he made you happy?”

“How could he not?”

“Give me a chance.”

“You'll just remind me of all I've lost.”

“I'll remind you of all that's left for you in life.”

He got up, feeling strong and sure and so ready to pleasure Belle that he was burning up inside. He didn't know what she'd done or how she'd done it. Maybe he didn't need to know just now. All he wanted to do was bury his hard shaft in the hot, wet heart of her.

He picked up a dry branch and easily broke it over his knee. He grabbed more firewood and tossed it on the campfire. He stirred the embers with a stick and built up the flames. He wanted plenty of light. He was going to seduce Belle, and he wanted to see every expression on her face and every undulation of her body. When he was done, she'd be hard-pressed to remember Hackett's face, much less his body.

He turned around and smiled at her.

She narrowed her eyes.

He grinned, trying to appear innocent and boyish. That usually worked to disarm a woman. But this wasn't just any woman. This was Texas Belle Thompson, a woman who gave as good as she got. And that was just what he wanted. He knelt in front of her.

“Mercy, you've got a devilish gleam in your eyes.”

“I'm happy.”

“I've never seen you like this.”

“You've only seen me sick and weak.”

“I'm not sure I trust this new you.”

“Trust me to share my happiness.”

He sat down in front of her, crossed his legs, and scooted in close. “You're beautiful.”

“Honeyed words won't do it.”

He lifted her left hand to his lips, pressed a hot kiss against her palm, and then moved to her inner wrist, where he lingered to feel the fast beat of her heart. She was not nearly as indifferent toward him as she tried to appear. He nibbled up her arm to her inner elbow and paused to kiss her soft skin, adding licks and nips to increase her heart rate. He moved upward until he grasped her shoulders and turned her so she faced the firelight. She was bathed in a rosy hue that made her appear even more delectable.

“Mercy, you might as well stop. I'm not affected by your touch. Only Hackett made me see stars.”

“With me, you'll see the Sun and the Moon, too.”

He slowly unbuttoned her blouse and then spread the fabric apart so he could see the upper slope of her breasts. She was just as wonderful as he'd imagined when he'd first met her. He feasted his eyes on the creamy mounds partially covered by white lace threaded with a crimson ribbon.

“I'm being patient due to your recent release from illness, but I suggest you not get more familiar.”

But he hardly heard her words. In sharp contrast to what he thought he'd see, or had ever seen on a desirable woman, he stared at a black tattoo marring the soft flesh over her heart. He touched the image with the tip of one finger and felt thrumming power. He glanced up at her face in confusion.

“Belle, will you please explain this symbol?”