Heart of the Hunter (6 page)

“Then you might as well know the rest.”

“The rest?” Kelly looked up at him, her fingernails digging
into her palms as she waited for him to go on. His expression was bleak, his
eyes as hard and black as obsidian. A muscle worked in his jaw.

“When I was seventeen, I was accused of raping a white girl.
I did some time for that, too.”

He stared down at her, waiting for her reaction.

Kelly’s gaze was steady as it met his. “Were you guilty?”

“Only of being young and stupid.”

She hesitated only a moment before she said, “I believe
you.”

Lee studied her for a long moment, wondering if she really
believed him. And then he cursed himself for being such a cynical fool. Her
face was as open and easy to read as print on a page. If she thought he was
lying, it would be revealed in the depths of those amazing blue eyes.

“We’re having hamburgers for lunch,” Kelly said with a
smile. “Don’t be late.”

With a nod in her direction, he left the house.

Kelly stared after Lee, her mind reeling with unanswered
questions. Why had he really come here? What did he know that he wasn’t telling
her? Was she in danger? Why did he look so much like Blue Crow?

She grunted softly. The answer to that was obvious. They had
to be related. If that was so, perhaps it answered her other questions, as
well. He’d come to work here because he knew about the gold. And if he knew,
perhaps there were others who also knew, or suspected.

If that was true, she would be wise not to trade any more of
the nuggets for cash. Cedar Flats was a small town and so was Coleville.
Anything out of the ordinary was likely to draw attention and be remembered.

Pushing away from the table, she gathered up the dirty
dishes and filled the sink with hot water. The kitchen was on the west side of
the house. There was a large window over the sink, affording her a view of the
barn and the corrals.

Looking out, she saw Lee carrying a ladder and a can of
paint out of the barn. He’d removed his shirt and his skin glistened like fine
bronze in the early morning sunlight. His muscles rippled as he placed the
ladder against the side of the barn.

The dishes forgotten, she watched as he opened a can of red
paint and then, with lithe assurance, made his way to the top of the ladder.

Using a brush pulled from the waistband of his pants, he
began to paint the eaves.

She might have stood watching him all day, her hands
immersed in a sink of water that was rapidly turning cold, if Harry Renford
hadn’t called.

After exchanging the usual pleasantries, he informed her
that the deed was still missing and that he had sent to the county seat for a
copy.

Kelly thanked him for calling, assured him that Lee Roan
Horse wasn’t causing any trouble at all and hung up.

Resisting the urge to spend the day watching Lee, she
quickly finished up the dishes, made her bed and dusted the living room
furniture. She hadn’t given the house a good cleaning since she arrived and
this seemed the perfect time to do it.

It wasn’t a very big house. There were two bedrooms in the
back of the house, a small but surprisingly modern bathroom, a good-sized
living room and a combination kitchen and dining room.

She stripped the sheets and blankets from the bed in the
spare bedroom to air the mattress, scoured the bathroom fixtures and mopped the
floor.

She was ready for a break when lunchtime came.

The hamburgers were grilling when Lee entered the kitchen.
She was relieved to see that he’d donned his shirt. For some reason, the sight
of his bare chest aroused feelings she didn’t wish to acknowledge or analyze.

Lee hesitated before he sat down, wondering if she’d had a
change of heart about his staying on.

“Sit down,” she said. “It’s almost ready.”

Nodding, he pulled out a chair and straddled it. He tried
not to stare at her, tried to think of something else, but he couldn’t keep his
gaze from straying toward her, couldn’t help noticing the way she filled out a
pair of jeans, couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to hold her in his
arms

He swore softly. She was a white woman, he reminded himself
sternly, and he’d vowed never to get mixed up with a white woman again. It had
been ten years since the incident with Melinda, but he hadn’t forgotten what it
had cost him the last time he’d let a pretty face override his better judgment
and as much as he longed to take Kelly in his arms and discover if she tasted
as good as she looked, he had no intention of giving in to that particular
temptation.

He ate quickly, thanked her for the meal and left the house,
determined to bury his lust under a coat of red paint and a lot of hard work.

By nightfall, Lee was bone weary. Feet dragging, he made his
way to the house, convinced he’d managed to subdue his base feelings for a
woman he hardly knew, but one look at Kelly’s face and he knew he was kidding
himself. What was there about this particular woman that drew his gaze again
and again? Was it the pull of her soft golden skin, the sky-blue color of her
eyes, or the simple fact that she was a challenge he was helpless to resist?

He shook his head imperceptibly. She didn’t wear much
makeup, only a bit of mascara and a touch of pale pink lipstick, and yet he
knew he’d never seen anything as sexy as Kelly McBride clad in a pair of faded
jeans and a white turtleneck sweater.

Get hold of yourself, Roan Horse, he chided. You’re as randy
as a young stud with his first mare.

They ate in silence. The lack of conversation made Kelly
uncomfortable and she was glad she’d turned the radio on—until Vince Gill began
singing a song called
Nobody Answers When I Call Your Name
. The soft
country ballad filled the kitchen, reminding Kelly of how lonely she was. All
she’d ever wanted had been a home of her own and a man to share it with, yet
she’d never found that one special man. Twice, she’d thought she’d been in love.
The first time, she’d discovered that the man she adored was already married.
The second time, she had simply lost interest in the relationship. She’d always
been told that there was someone for everyone, but she was beginning to doubt
it.

The song ended, only to be followed by another song about
lost love and broken dreams.

Glancing up, she met Lee’s gaze, felt her cheeks grow hot as
she saw the barely concealed longing in his eyes. He was lonely, too, she
thought.

Her heart seemed to climb into her throat as she watched Lee
push away from the table. He rose to his feet with all the sleek, lazy grace of
a tiger. He circled the table until he stood beside her chair, one hand
outstretched.

Feeling foolish and giddy at the same time, Kelly put her
hand in his, let him pull her to her feet, take her in his arms.

Kelly’s heart was pounding so loudly she could scarcely hear
the music as he waltzed her around the kitchen floor. She marveled at the way
she fit into his arms. She had never been a particularly good dancer, yet she
followed Lee as if they had danced together for years. She was acutely
conscious of his long fingers folded over hers, of the pressure of his hand at
her back. He had washed before coming to dinner and she could smell the soap on
his skin. Her left hand rested lightly on his shoulder and the flesh beneath
her palm was warm and solid.

His leg brushed against hers, sending tremors of excitement
through her whole body. His breath was warm against her cheek, his eyes were
dark intense, filled with unspoken dreams and secrets she was afraid to learn.

He didn’t release her when the music ended. For a long
moment they stood there, suspended in time. Kelly stared into his eyes, unable
to look away. It was suddenly hard to breathe, impossible to think. She watched
his gaze travel to her lips, felt her breath catch in her throat as she waited
for him to kiss her. Shivers of anticipation skittered down her spine and her
knees went weak as heat spiraled through her.

He took a deep breath, as if gathering his strength, and
then he let her go and took a step backward.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes.

“You’re welcome.” She glanced around the kitchen, wishing
she could find a reason to make him stay. Her gaze settled on the pie she’d
made that afternoon. The way to a man’s heart, she thought and blurted,
“There’s apple pie for dessert.”

“No.” He took another step away from her. “Maybe another
time,” he added, his voice thick.

“Good night, then.”

Her voice moved over him, low and soft, and he knew he had
to get out of there before it was too late.

Muttering a hurried good night, he opened the kitchen door
and practically ran out of the room.

Chapter Eight

Outside, Lee paused in the shadows and drew in several long
breaths. She probably thought he was crazy, running out of the house like that,
but he had to get away. Away from the innocent enticement of sweet pink lips
and the lure of summer-sky eyes. Away from the intoxicating female scent that
clung to her.

He swore under his breath. She’d smelled of lilac soap and
minty toothpaste and freshly baked biscuits, of woman and home, of kids and
responsibility, and it scared the devil out of him.

He stared at his hand. He could still feel the warmth of her
skin against his. His shoulder seemed to burn where her hand had rested. Hell,
he was burning all over.

He sucked in another deep breath, blew it out in a long
sigh, then made his way to the corral behind the barn. The buckskin whickered
softly as he approached. Bending over, he plucked a dandelion from a patch of
scraggly grass and offered it to the horse. Then, one booted foot resting on
the bottom rail of the corral, he stared into the distance, idly scratching the
gelding between the ears.

Gradually, the quiet of the night settled around him,
soothing him. He stared up at the stars and from deep within a shadowed
corridor of his mind he heard the echo of an ancient Lakota prayer.

He heard the words whisper in his mind and then, feeling
awkward and a little foolish, he raised his arms overhead and spoke the words
aloud.

“
Wakan Tanka
, whose voice whispers in the wind and
the water, whose breath gives life to all the earth, hear my cry. I am small
and weak, in need of Your strength and courage and wisdom. If You walk with me,
all things are possible…”

After a moment, he lowered his arms and then, very slowly,
he glanced over his shoulder.

The house, bathed in moonlight, looked like something out of
a fairy tale. Light glowed behind the yellow-checked curtains, warm, inviting.
He saw Kelly staring at him through the kitchen window. Lamplight cast soft red
highlights in her hair.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her.
All
things are possible…

Feeling suddenly naked and vulnerable, he headed for the
barn. After putting the horse in a stall, he lit the lamp that hung from one of
the rafters. He stood there for a long time, his heart racing as though he’d
just run a marathon, his thoughts chaotic.

Kelly. One touch and he wanted two. He held her hand and
wanted to smother her with kisses.

Damn! Gold or no gold, he had to get away from here. Away
from her.

He dragged a hand through his hair, remembering the beating
he’d gotten from Melinda’s father. Of course, Frank Kershaw hadn’t done it
himself. Oh, no. He’d hollered for his two hired bodyguards and they’d beat the
crap out of the boy who’d dared lay a hand on his little girl. They’d broken
his nose and a couple of ribs before they were done. Lee had wondered how
Melinda’s old man would explain it all to the police, but no explanations had
been necessary. The cops hadn’t even blinked. They’d listened to Kershaw’s
story, readily accepting his word that Lee had raped his daughter without
provocation, cuffed Lee’s hands behind his back, read him his rights and shoved
him into the back of the police car.

Even now he could remember the humiliation of that night.
Melinda’s tears, her mournful sobs as she accused Lee of dragging her into the
bungalow and raping her. He could remember the smiles of anticipation on the
faces of the two bodyguards as they backed him into a corner, the sounds of
their fists striking his face and body, the smell of his own blood and fear,
the stench of their sweat as they worked him over, the look on Kershaw’s face
as he handed them each a crisp one hundred dollar bill for their trouble.

“It’s over. Forget it.” Lee muttered the words aloud,
knowing he’d never forget it as long as he lived.

“Lee?”

He whirled around at the sound of her voice.

Kelly paused, her hand on the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t
mean to bother you, but…” She shrugged, a faint smile flitting over her face.
“I went for a walk and I seem to have locked myself out of the house and I was
wondering if you could…”

Her voice trailed off and she felt a rush of color flood her
cheeks.

His eyes narrowed ominously. “And you knew I’d be able to
pick the lock, since I’d done it before.”

Kelly bit down on her lip. Of course, that was just what
she’d thought, only it sounded awful when he said it aloud.

“I… Never mind. I’ll…”

“Forget it,” he said brusquely. Hands clenched into tight
fists, he swept past her.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

Needing time to compose herself, she spent a couple of
minutes glancing around the barn. She hadn’t been inside since Lee moved in.
The floor had been swept clean. An assortment of tack hung from pegs on the far
wall; there were several bales of hay and straw piled in a corner, along with a
half-dozen bags of sweet feed. Her grandfather’s saddle, cleaned and oiled, sat
atop a wooden sawhorse. An old cardboard box held an assortment of curry combs
and brushes