Lone Star Lover (14 page)

“No.” Jake drew out the word. “He works with me sometimes but it’s hard to explain.”

“What is his name?”

“Tom.”

Rebecca blinked. “Yes?”

“Tom Parker.”

“He has no other name?” She didn’t understand. The Comanche were fiercely proud people. A brave would not take a white man’s name easily, even if he was a half-breed.

Jake shifted, stretching out his back, and then held his side and winced.

“You hurt yourself again.”

“I’m just stiff. Tell me more about Running Bear.”

Rebecca sighed. “He was not so hateful of the white man as were his brothers. Like his father, he wanted peace.”

“Did he treat you well?”

She nodded, knowing the truth of what he asked. “He made me his wife.”

“Ah.” Jake didn’t look pleased. He moved the hand he’d placed on hers and rubbed his jaw. But she knew there was no itch he needed to satisfy. He no longer wished to touch an Indian bride. “How did you end up here?”

“The men had gone hunting and there were only a few of us working in the village when the Rangers came.” Another memory she wanted banished from her mind. “Three older boys had stayed behind to protect the women and children. They were killed, but everyone else scattered into the woods.” Rebecca shrugged. “One of the Rangers saw my hair and they chased me into the trees while the other women got away.”

Abrupt anger darkened Jake’s features. “Were they shooting at the women and children?”

She said nothing. As much as she wanted the Rangers to pay for their cruelty, she didn’t want Jake involved. He was one man. They were many.

“Bastards,” he muttered, exhaling sharply. He touched her hand again, and then quickly retreated, folding his hands together and letting them dangle between his knees. “So I guess your husband must be looking for you.”

“Running Bear is dead.”

His head drew back. “When?”

“Over a year now.”

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t look sorry. Oddly, he looked almost pleased. “I am. I’m sorry for your loss, but I’m—Oh, crap. I’m an ass.” He abruptly stood and paced to the small window over the dresser.

Rebecca hesitated, but then couldn’t sit still another second. Following him to the window, she dared to lay a hand on his arm, ready to pull back if he showed signs of anger. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re mourning the loss of your husband, and God help me, I’m sitting here glad that you’re single—that you’re free. That I can kiss you and touch you and not feel guilty as hell.”

Relief spilled through her. “I too am sorry he’s dead. He didn’t deserve to die at the hands of the filthy Comanchero. But Running Bear had not been a husband to me for two years before he was killed.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed as he considered what she was trying to tell him. “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but that man was a fool,” he said quietly. “You’re so beautiful. How could he stay away?”

“He had two other wives.” Rebecca cleared her throat. Whatever pride she had once possessed was gone. Left in the ashes of her family’s camp all those years ago. “They bore him children.”

“So he abandoned you?”

Would Jake never stop surprising her? She had all but admitted that she was barren, but still he hadn’t recoiled from her. “No, I was still part of his family. His mother and I grew very close. She taught me many things. I owe Bird Song my life.”

“Then I owe her, as well.” He lowered his head and kissed one side of her mouth, and then trailed his lips to the bruised spot where Corbin had dug his hard fingers into her flesh.

Rebecca’s eyes drifted closed, hoping with all her heart that this was real and not a dream. No man had ever treated her so tenderly. Certainly not her husband. She didn’t know this was possible. Many times in the past five years she’d given up her belief in God. But now she knew He did exist. He’d sent her Jake.

He realized how turned on he was getting, and promptly lifted his head. How could he be such an ass? She’d just explained about losing her husband. It didn’t matter that the man had been too foolish to treat her like a proper wife. He had been a part of Rebecca’s life. To some degree, he’d kept her safe. For that, Jake owed him his respect and gratitude.

“I’m sorry, Rebecca,” he said, aware that he’d said those words more in the past couple of days than he had in his whole life. Cupping her shoulders, he set her back. “I didn’t mean to get carried away.”

Her eyes were huge and shining, her lips coated with a sheen of moisture. “Don’t be sorry,” she said shyly, and tentatively put a palm against his chest. “Why aren’t you like the others?”

Now that he knew she wasn’t innocent, that she’d been with a man, it still didn’t add up for him. She had to know how worked up he’d been getting, how the way she was moving closer to him would only make him want her more. “The other Rangers?”

She blinked. “The other white men. Even Kitty and Lola said no white man would touch me if they knew I’d been bedded by an Indian. Captain Wade and the Rangers only kept the secret so they could use me when the railroad men came to town.”

The thought of how she’d been treated by the so-called lawmen sent a shaft of white-hot fury through him. The kind of blinding anger that he’d better restrain and quick. He breathed in deeply, reminded himself of what was at stake, and his sense of control slowly returned. This was the perfect time to tell her about himself, to explain that in the future, the ignorance against Indians no longer existed. He winced inwardly, knowing that wasn’t entirely true, but close enough for her frame of reference.

“You don’t have to worry about the railroad men, or any other man that you don’t choose to invite into your room. Do you understand?” Although he didn’t say so, he included himself. She needed comfort and an empathetic ear, not his desire to strip her naked and kiss every inch of her body.

She nodded, though she didn’t look convinced, and then a tiny smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “You shouldn’t have taken away my broken glass.”

He started to smile back, but then the implication of what she’d said struck him. “Rebecca, I respect that you’re willing to defend yourself, but the truth is, if you were to fight a man, you’d probably be the one to get hurt.”

She sighed. “That’s what Kitty said when she took away my knife.”

He shook his head. She’d be better off with a gun. At least then she’d have a chance. “If a man is close enough for you to use a knife or shard of glass, he’ll be able to overpower you. Are you getting that?”

She frowned at his frustrated tone, her chin going up, her hand falling away from his chest.

He hadn’t meant to sound so sharp. “Maybe if I could somehow get you a gun…”

Her eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know how to use a gun. But I’m very good with a knife.”

Jake flashed back on the time she’d helped him to sit up after he’d come to. He remembered then thinking how deceptively strong she was for such a petite woman. Now he understood. Living in an Indian village had required physical endurance and skills most women would never dream of. Rebecca undoubtedly was excellent with a knife, but he still didn’t like the idea of her carrying one.

“Tell you what,” he said, stepping back as far as he could without knocking over the basin and stool behind him. “I’m going to show you a few moves that will stop a man long enough for you to get away from him.”

“A knife will do that.”

He groaned. “Enough with the knife. I mean it.” He immediately regretted the words and the tone. She gave him a resentful glare, which he deserved. Men had been running her life for too long. She didn’t need hearing that kind of crap from him. He closed the distance between them once again and cupped his hand around her slender nape. “If I sound stern or harsh it’s because I’m scared for you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

She tilted her head slightly, her curious blue-green eyes fixed on his face. “Why?”

“That’s a funny question.” Tensing, Jake drew back his hand. “Because I worry about you.” He cleared his throat. “Kitty worries about you.”

Rebecca showed no reaction, not even disappointment over his cowardice. Why couldn’t he have simply admitted that he cared for her? He did. Nothing serious. She was a human being, a mistreated woman, and he’d sworn to uphold the law.

And then the reason for her lack of reaction struck him, hard, right in the gut. She didn’t expect anyone to care about her. Her husband’s mother had been kind, but that didn’t mean Rebecca wasn’t used to being on her own and depending on herself for survival.

“Look,” he said. “I care about you, that’s why.” He shoved his hand through his hair, frustrated. He couldn’t even get that out right.

Rebecca smiled, almost as if she understood the turmoil roiling inside him. Glad someone did.

“You ready for your lesson?” Stepping back again, he rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen up the tension that had settled at the base of his neck and between his shoulder blades.

She nodded, her hands fisting at her sides.

“There are three ways you can either stop or slow down a man who attacks you. Depending on your position if you’re attacked, you should go for the eyes, the throat or the groin area. These are all vulnerable areas that with a well-placed kick or flat-handed—”

Her brows furrowed, she regarded him as if he were speaking a different language.

What a dumb ass. He’d shifted gears, gone into Jake Malone, Texas Ranger, the third Saturday of every month, women’s self-defense instructor. He’d taken on the volunteer assignment for a year before going undercover. It seemed like a decade ago. In reality, his current reality, it hadn’t even happened yet. Hell, he still wasn’t sure he wasn’t totally insane. But gazing at Rebecca, he sincerely hoped not. He needed her to be real. Flesh and blood. This woman who stirred all kinds of crazy emotions inside of him.

He had to finally tell her the truth about himself. Right after the lesson.

“I think it’s best that I show you, okay?” He waited for her hesitant nod, and then demonstrated the precursor for the open-hand technique. “Hold your hand like this.”

Her nose wrinkled in concentration, she mimicked his stance, and made him want to laugh. He didn’t dare.

“This is how you would knock the air out of him.” He delivered a mock blow to her throat. “Hit him hard enough and he won’t be able to catch his breath. He’ll double over, trying to breathe, and you run.”

She nodded uncertainly.

When he was done explaining, they’d practice and she’d feel more confident. “The eyes are another good place to strike.” He made a V with his middle and forefinger. “Poke him in both eyes just like this,” he said demonstrating on himself. “He’ll panic and not be able to see. If your attacker is drunk, you’ve got a good shot using either one of these tactics. If he’s not, and too tall, being as short as you are might be a problem. But you have other options.”

She waited expectantly, while getting comfortable with forming her hand in a karate chop. She was a determined student, he’d give her that. Her serious attention sure made him feel more comfortable that she could defend herself.

“Now, what I’m about to explain is your best bet at disabling a man long enough so that you can get away before he recovers. You’ll use your knee, by bringing your leg up like this and hitting him in the groin.”

Rebecca stared blankly at him. Did she not understand the word
groin
, he wondered, or was she embarrassed?

He cupped a hand over his fly, drawing her gaze. “This is where you’re aiming. It’s a very sensitive area and—”

Her mouth quivered, and she quickly pressed her lips together. But not before he got that she was trying not to laugh.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes? What’s so funny?”

Her cheeks turned pink, but she still looked as if she were on the verge of laughing. “Nothing.”

“I figure you know what’s down here,” he said, cupping himself more soundly, while torturing himself at the same time.

“Yes,” she said, and laughed in earnest.

“Well, fine.” He moved his hand. “I hope this is a joke and not something I have to take personally.”

She dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, it was long ago, three years maybe…one of the young braves, his name is Blue Sky.” She paused, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of rose.

“You have to tell me now.”

She visibly swallowed. “Blue Sky was showing off, trying to get Moon Dance to notice him when he slid from a tree. He didn’t see the stump. After that the squaws called him Blue Balls.” She started to laugh again and quickly covered her mouth.

“Ouch.” Jake winced in sympathy for the poor bastard. “You laugh, but let me tell you, that’s about as painful as it gets for a man.”

She touched her throat. “I know,” she said, sobering. “That was very rude of me to laugh.”

He smiled. “I like hearing you laugh.” He winked. “As long as it’s not at me.”

Her expression turned wistful. “I used to laugh all the time. Twice I got in trouble at school for laughing, but I was a very good student so Father never took a switch to me.”

Man, he had so many questions for her. But he’d feel more relaxed once he was convinced she could take care of herself when he wasn’t around. “Speaking of being a good student, let’s get back to your lesson.”

She squared her shoulders, and spread her feet apart as he’d demonstrated earlier, looking like a warrior preparing for battle. Most of her long blond hair fell down her back, but a thick lock curled over one breast, calling attention to a protruding nipple that prodded the thin fabric of her dress. The way she looked right now would disarm any man, catch him off guard long enough for her to do some damage. Hell, she was doing a number on him, all right.

“Okay, back to kneeing the groin,” he said, looking away from her breasts. “Don’t be shy about making his b—this area here—the target.” He passed a hand over his fly, discomfited by her unwavering stare.

It took him a second to realize he’d hardened, and that the longer she stared, the more his cock thickened.

Damn. That hadn’t gone as planned.

He shifted, and she finally blinked. What now? Did he apologize? Pretend nothing happened? Except if he didn’t adjust his jeans soon, she’d be calling him Blue Balls II.

She cautiously lifted her gaze to his, and he couldn’t tell if she were embarrassed, naive or getting heated herself. No, not naive. He didn’t think embarrassed either, which left…

Okay, so maybe his time traveling tale could wait.

“Rebecca?”

She took a couple of steps toward him, lifting her face and parting her lips. Longing was stamped on her delicate features, a longing that closely mirrored his own.

If he did this, if he made love to her like he so desperately wanted to, could he move forward objectively? So much was at stake, so much that depended on him keeping a clear head and not getting them both killed. Getting him back to his own time.

She gingerly placed her hands on his chest. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I almost forgot about my ribs.”

With a featherlike touch, she traced his lower lip. “The blisters are gone.”

“I noticed that when I was shaving.” He probed the corner of his mouth where the worst offender was now a faint scar which he knew would soon disappear. He smiled, and then brushed his lips across hers. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

She moved her hand to the healing gash at the side of his head. “And here? Is it better?”

“Much.” He wasn’t lying. Until now it hadn’t occurred to him that he’d not had a single headache since yesterday. “Maybe you should check my side.”

“I should,” she agreed, her eyes warm and knowing as she moved back and unsnapped his shirt.

Impatient, he helped her and then shrugged out of the scratchy flannel. The way she ogled his chest did his male ego good. No matter what mission he’d been assigned, even when working undercover, he’d always made time for exercise. He told himself that keeping physically fit was necessary for the job, but he knew damn well part of it was vanity. Right now, his diligence was paying off big-time.

Rebecca smoothed her palms over his pecs, immediately bringing his nipples to attention. She touched them, too, lightly with the tip of her finger, with a fascination that didn’t make sense. She had to have seen more than her share of naked male chests.

“You have a lot of muscle,” she said, briefly gazing up at him, and then following the course of her hands as they moved down to his ridged belly. “Everywhere.”

“I work at it.”

Her brows drew together in a puzzled frown, but she didn’t ask any more questions, just returned to exploring him with her hands and eyes, everywhere but the intended spot.

“How do my ribs look?” he asked, belatedly hoping his teasing didn’t scare her away.