Jodi Thomas (13 page)

After a silent meal, Anna pulled the loose strands of hair from her brush and placed them in the tiny hair receiver in her dresser set. Someday, when winter slowed her life and kept her inside, she would braid the hairs over a cord and make a comb to match her hair. Concentrating on her task as though nothing else mattered at the moment, Anna wanted to say she was sorry for the way she’d acted, but somehow the words wouldn’t come.

Tobin’s fever had broken and he was sleeping quietly. Chance laid one blanket down on the side of the fire opposite Tobin and stretched out, watching the clouds rumbling above. Finally, Anna moved to his side, silently lying down within an inch of him.

She turned her back to Chance and whispered, “Good night.” Chance stirred and a moment later she felt his coat go over her. Before she could speak, he pulled her against him, holding her tight as though challenging her to tell him again that she was not cold. The warmth of his body spread through her, and Anna relaxed, knowing that he meant only to share the warmth of his body and no more.

Long after their breathing had slowed, Anna felt Chance’s cheek against her hair. “Good night, my beautiful Anna,” he whispered, half asleep.

Anna smiled, knowing his words were a lie, but a lie she could treasure and store against the coldness to come, when the only warmth she’d have would be her own.

T
he stormy heavens rumbled all night. Anna was aware of the wind and the thunder, but she kept her eyes closed tightly as she snuggled into the warmth of Chance’s arms.

A nightmare of memories kept haunting her, flashing scenes across her thoughts, howling like rumors never spoken aloud but clearly heard by all. The brooding clouds above her became the murky lake behind their home in Germany. The pale half moon twisted into a vision of her mother’s body, floating facedown in the choppy water. Crackles of thunder were Anna’s frightened cries. Wind tore at her hair and clothing just as William had pulled at her gown that night months ago when he’d first invaded her bed.

Anna twisted in her sleep, feeling William’s hands pawing her. His labored breathing reeked of whiskey. He pressed his fleshy cheek against her throat and called her mother’s name as he sucked at her flesh. When she cried out, his fist silenced her. Terror rose in Anna as vivid in her dream as it had been that night. Suddenly, she was fighting with every ounce of her being—fighting the nightmare, fighting the fear, fighting her shame.

Strong hands crossed the nightmare. A powerful grip pulled her shoulders straight and stilled her thrashing.

“Anna! Anna!”

She opened her eyes to reality. A tall shadow sat above her, pinning her to the ground with his hands. Anna froze. His voice was low and worry colored his words. “Are you all right?”

As her eyes adjusted, she could see his dark hair blowing in the wind. She knew the strength of this man she now called husband, and he was applying no more than needed to keep her still.

“I . . .” She focused on her surroundings as her nightmare dimmed: the firelight. The man sleeping across from them. The gentle stranger abover her. “I had a nightmare,” she whispered to the lean silhouette. “I hate storms.”

Chance released his hold and lowered himself onto his side, resting his head on one elbow. His face was only a few inches from her own. “I’ve had a few of those myself. After my folks were killed, it was years before I stopped seeing them dead and the house burning. I thought I should have died with them. I’d dream over and over that I was running, trying to get there before the Indians killed them.”

He rolled onto his back and stared at the clouds. She could see the hard lines of his strong jaw and knew without asking that he’d never told anyone of his nightmares.

When his gaze turned toward her, the firelight reflected in the caring blue depths of his eyes. A tear that the man would never allow to fall sparkled from a boy’s nightmare. She could hardly hear his low voice. “Might help to talk about it.”

She turned to her side. “I . . .” She glanced at Tobin. The man was resting.

Chance followed her stare. “Come on.” He stood and tossed their blanket over his saddle a few feet away. “Let’s take a walk.” He offered his hand.

The energy left from the nightmare still pulsed through her veins as they strolled down to the water, picking their way through shadowy masses of brush. Wind rippled over the darkened water, making it slosh at the rocks near their feet as they walked along the bank in silence. She could feel his nearness, and it calmed her as did the shadows waving across the sand and the constant beating of the water against the land. Chance’s hand was warm and strong as he guided and steadied her on the path.

Anna thought of how afraid of him she’d been. She’d shielded herself from him with her anger as though he were as evil as William. She’d been wrong. Chance had shown her nothing but kindness and tenderness. He’d cared for her when she had the fever and found her when she’d run away. He’d kept her warm with his body.

When they reached a cave that broke most of the wind, Anna stopped. Chance tugged her hand gently as he looked over his shoulder, a question in the shadowy tilt of his head.

Brushing a few strands of hair from her eyes, she began, “I want to say I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve been quite fair with you.” He moved to face her but remained silent as she continued. “I seem to always be yelling at you and you don’t deserve it. The sisters at the boarding school always said I had a mean temper.”

Chance’s voice was only a whisper in the wind. “I don’t think anything about you could be mean.” He cupped her cheek with his palm and Anna leaned into it, instinctively needing the touch of someone who cared about her. She could hear it in his words, feel it in his touch, see it in the dark blue warmth of his eyes.

“You’re a good man.” A tear spilled over her lashes and trickled down her cheek. How many times had she sworn there were no good men in the world? How many times had she promised never to allow herself to be near another?

His thumb caught the tear and for a moment he seemed lost in the wonder of its moisture. “I have to leave in a year.” Pain echoed in his words.

“I know.” Anna pulled away slightly. “I will hold you to our bargain.”

“There is something I have to do, a promise I made years ago.”

Anna remembered the night he’d called for Maggie in his sleep. What had he said?
Don’t cry, Maggie?
Wrapping her arms around her waist, Anna wondered if his promise had anything to do with a girl he’d left behind. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I bought a husband for a year, nothing more.” She turned back to retrace her steps. There was no need to hear him tell her he was only with her because of the money; she’d known that from the first meeting, when he’d asked for the hundred dollars even before he’d married her.

“Wait.” Chance grabbed her arm and twirled her toward him. “I want to explain. I always seem to be starting conversations with you and not finishing them.” Suddenly, her nearness slowed his words.

“There is no need.” Her eyes studied the black outline of the trees. “You’ve been kind and I thank you. There is and can be no more.”

“Anna . . .” He couldn’t find the words. She looked so strong and lovely before him. Moonlight turned her hair to smoky fire and her eyes seemed to hold the pain of the world in their emerald depths.

Angry and stiff as an ice sculpture, Anna now stared at him. But he’d felt her warmth beside him. Her tear had touched his heart. Suddenly, he wanted her to know his thoughts. Her presence had added a softness to the world that he’d never known existed.

“If I tell you how beautiful you are, you’ll only call me a liar again.” He moved his hands around her waist and pulled her stiffly against him, needing her nearness more than air. “I don’t know if I have the words to tell you how lovely your eyes are when they’re filled with fire.”

“No!” Anna’s voice was whisked away on the wind.

“Dear God, Anna, do you know how you make me feel inside?”

“No,” she whispered again, but her nearness was flooding his mind, intoxicating his reason. Chance spread his fingers across her waist and held her so close against him that their hearts seemed to pound as one. He lowered his lips to hers without thought, without logic.

The softness of her mouth sent a jolt through him and for a moment his pulse seemed to stop. There was no wind, no river, no night. There was only the wonder of Anna in his arms. Opening his mouth slightly, he circled her lips with his, loving the feel of her so near, loving the taste of her. He released her waist and slowly slid his hands up her sides as he tasted the essence of this beautiful woman.

She moved in his arms, twisting the fullness of her breast into his hand, and he slid his fingers across her blouse, loving the softness beneath his touch. When her mouth would have pulled away, Chance braced her head in his hand and pressed his lips harder into her sweetness. He’d never kissed a woman whose lips didn’t taste of whiskey. Anna’s mouth was as soft as butter and reminded him of fresh, wild honey.

A sudden pain slammed into his chest and for a moment Chance didn’t react. He felt another hit, then her lips were gone, along with the warmth of her body against him. Watching in disbelief, he made no move to defend himself as her hand flew through the air and slapped the side of his face. His cheek stung from her blow, but he didn’t move. Then reality began to register in his mind.

When her hand flew again, he ducked away from the blow. The angry blaze in her eyes was hot enough to set the horizon afire. “What?” he yelled as she kicked at him in rage. Her skirts hampered the severity of the blow.

“You said I could trust you. You said you wouldn’t force yourself on me.”

“Wait!” He stepped out of harm’s way. “All I did was kiss you.”

“I said there would be nothing between us.” She forced her voice to harden. “Nothing, do you understand? Or are you too savage to know what I mean?” Anna’s breath was coming in gulps now. “Don’t ever touch me like that. It’s wrong. It’s bad.”

Turning away from her, Chance dragged his fingers through his hair. He knew he wasn’t worthy of her. She was so perfect. He called himself a hundred names for not thinking. How could he have kissed her when he’d worked so hard to gain her trust? He was her bought-and-paid-for husband. The job was to work her farm, not hold her in his arms. But, by God, she’d felt something when they’d kissed. She might scream and kick till hell froze, but she had responded for one moment.

“I’m sorry I upset you, but I’m not sorry I kissed you.” He had to tell her the truth, or she’d never trust him again. He had the feeling she’d been lied to enough during her life. “I’m a man, Anna.”

“You’re an animal.”

Chance took a step toward her, then hesitated. “No. Despite what you think of me, I’d never force myself on a woman.” He lifted his hand to touch her shoulder, but she moved away.

Anna’s voice was stone cold. “I’ve heard such lies before.” The hurt in her eyes was too deep to have been caused by one kiss. “Give me your knife.”

“What?”

“Give me that knife!”

Chance reached for the hunting knife at his belt.

“No.” Anna pointed at his boot. “The one you keep hidden. The one that man named Bonham gave your father before he died at the Alamo. The one you said was so important to you.”

Leaning over, Chance slid the blade from the lining of his boot. The pearl handle flashed ghostly white in the night as he handed it to her.

Anna shoved the weapon into her coat pocket. “I’ll keep this with me for the rest of our year together. I know it means a great deal to you, and I promise I’ll give it back the day you leave. Between now and then, however, I swear on the grave of my mother, I’ll kill you with it if you touch me as a man touches a woman.”

Chance’s mood couldn’t have been blacker if he’d just killed a dozen old people, eaten the last meal of some starving children, and hung his best friend. He’d always thought of himself as good and honorable, but her eyes told him he was beneath contempt. She’d said he was a savage. Was she right? Perhaps he’d lived as a savage too long, for even now his fingers longed to slide along her body, unhampered by her clothing. How could he have mistaken hostility for hesitation?

Watching her walk back to camp, her back straight and her head high, he still sensed she was frightened—just like that night back in camp when she’d walked among the men and asked for a husband. He’d admired her fire, her strength. That night he’d only wanted to help. He’d never dreamed her anger would be turned on him. Now he could see the hate in her eyes when she looked at him. How, in one moment of moonlight, could he destroy all the trust he’d worked for weeks to build?

He wanted to yell out,
Don’t be afraid of me. I’d never hurt you.
But she wouldn’t believe him. He’d have to prove to her that he wasn’t an animal, and he planned to do just that even if it took every day of the next year.

Chance kicked a rock into the river. He wished he knew more about women. If he’d been around them a little more, maybe he’d be able to read her better. Maybe he’d have known that she’d cuddled next to him merely for warmth. He was unsure what he was supposed to have done, but what he did was obviously wrong. She was as mad at him as a pinned-up longhorn. He’d seen wild cows fight a fence until their heads were bloody. Chance walked slowly back to camp, thinking that the only one who might get bloody if he got near Anna again was him.