Renegade (6 page)

Strangely enough, he
was
sorry for her obvious pain, even if he wasn’t responsible for it.

Tucker was suddenly enraged. Jenny had responded to him passionately despite the straying he had confessed to in his brother’s stead, but he was intensely aware that it was not Tucker Conroy, Matt’s errant younger brother, who stirred her. It was Matt Strait…the
privileged
Matt Strait.

Tucker ran a hand through the sweat-darkened hair underneath his Stetson in a frustrated gesture
that he and Matt shared. He took a deep breath, expanding the powerful chest he had clutched Jenny against so briefly. He wondered how it would feel to be loved by a woman like Jenny, whose innate gentleness seemed capable of soothing even the most deeply buried pain. He was aware that had he been less considerate of her recent distress and more insistent during those few moments previously, he could have overwhelmed her.

Yet he had let her get away.

Why?

His cabin came into view and Tucker halted his horse to survey the surroundings. Satisfied that all was clear, he rode up to the dilapidated structure, dismounted, and tied up his mount.

Why?

That question lingered.

Samantha walked down the stairs of the Sleepy Rest Hotel. It was early—much too early for a young woman who had not gotten to bed until the wee hours to be up and about, but she was counting on that. Grateful that the registration desk was vacant and that the clerk was probably still sleeping, she continued on toward the street with a definite destination in mind.

Samantha stepped out onto the boardwalk, noting that the sun was just beginning to rise and the town itself had barely begun coming to life. That also pleased her. She knew she wouldn’t be asked too many questions she couldn’t answer truthfully at the early hour, and when she returned, the town would be too busy with comings and goings for anyone to notice her arrival on the crowded street.

Samantha walked quickly. Too much time had passed with nothing accomplished. Matt had not been back to see her since the night they had spent
together and since her confrontation with Jenny several days earlier. She was uncertain if Jenny had faced Matt down as well as her, but it made little difference. Matt obviously regretted their time together or he would have returned.

Sean McGill had not yet responded to her wire, either. She was happy about that—she was almost sure. In any case, she was determined that when he came, she would have the proof she had originally come to Winston to get.

She had maintained her masquerade at the Trail’s End although evenings had crawled past with deadening slowness. Her original mission was clearer than ever before. Allowing her emotions to cloud her judgment with Matt still smarted, but becoming a Pinkerton detective was a lifelong dream. She would not—
she
c
ould not
—allow anything else to take precedence.

With that thought in mind, she had purchased a casual blouse, split skirt, and boots, aware that she would need that attire in order to ride astride while searching Matt’s property. She had spent the early morning hours secretly searching it for three days already. If she was as lucky as she hoped to be, she would discover the needed evidence against him somewhere. She suffered for lack of sleep, but she had begun eagerly anticipating morning, when she would ride out like a true Pinkerton in search of the proof she needed.

Gratified to reach Toby’s livery without being noticed, Samantha turned abruptly at the sound of Toby’s voice.

“Here again, I see.”

“Yes, here again.” Samantha could not help smiling at the sight of Toby’s lined, disapproving expression. He didn’t like to see her riding out secretly and alone, but he was always there when she came to get a horse. His constancy struck a warm chord inside her. “Is my mount ready?” she asked.

Toby’s gray mustache twitched as he ignored her question and replied casually, “You know I never asked you what you’re doing riding out so early in the morning, especially since you don’t ever get out of the Trail’s End until the wee hours.”

“I know.”

“I never asked, neither, why you return just in time for your job at the Trail’s End, or why you refuse to discuss where you went.”

“I know.”

“I won’t never ask, neither, ’cause it ain’t nobody’s business, including mine.”

“That’s right.”

Toby mumbled an unintelligible word and then reaffirmed, “I respect your privacy, you know.”

Samantha sensed the axe was about to fall when Toby’s face suddenly flushed and he continued with considerable heat. “But I’m getting damned tired of seeing them circles under your eyes getting darker
every day. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I figure all this secrecy ain’t normal and you’re going to get yourself into trouble.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Toby. Besides, you said you respect my privacy.”

“I do, but I warned you that Matt Strait had previous commitments no matter how close you two seem to get. And I ain’t going to stand by while you make yourself sick over something that might still be happening between the two of you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Toby.” Samantha swallowed past the lump in her throat brought on by his comments and continued determinedly. “I won’t get sick.”

“You’re well on your way, ’cause you don’t get enough sleep.”

Deciding to take the offensive, Samantha replied, “How do you know where I’m going or what I’m doing? How do you know I don’t go somewhere where I rest most of the day?”

“Them circles under your eyes speak for you,” Toby responded. “Not that they ain’t becoming in a way. They make you look kind of fragile.”

It was Samantha’s turn for her nose to twitch as she said, “If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s fragile.” Determined to end the conversation before she said something she regretted, Samantha said quietly, “I’ll make you a deal, Toby. I’ll take a day off soon, just to satisfy you.”

“That won’t satisfy me.”

“What will satisfy you?”

“I need you to make me a promise.”

Samantha’s frown deepened. She responded tentatively, “What kind of promise?”

“I want you to promise me that whatever you’re doing, you won’t do nothing dangerous unless you talk to me first.”

Samantha paused. Toby had kept her confidence so far. He didn’t ask much. She responded impulsively, “All right, I promise.”

“You’re sure?”

Samantha paused to scrutinize the thin, graying old fellow with the concerned expression. He really was a dear old man. The least she could do was relieve his fears.

She replied firmly, “Yes.”

Quiet, obviously restraining any further questioning, Toby then led her to a gelding that was saddled and waiting. Again surrendering to impulse, she kissed his cheek before mounting and turned to say, “Don’t worry about me, Toby. I’ll be fine.”

Those last words to Toby before riding out of town rang in Samantha’s mind as she walked over a vast field littered with gopher holes. The moist heat of afternoon grew more intense, and both she and the limping mount she dragged behind her felt it. She had spoken so confidently to Toby an hour earlier, but she had not anticipated that the morning would turn incredibly hot and humid; that in her rush, she
would forget to fill her canteen; that her gelding would throw a shoe and go lame, forcing her to dismount and walk; or that she would get totally lost in an unfamiliar area of Matt’s vast holdings.

Samantha cursed her luck as the sun rose higher, as the morning grew hotter, and her shirt stuck to her like a second skin. Perspiration ran down the back of her neck. Her scalp was soaked and her spirits were plummeting. She pushed her hat back irritably. At the present rate, she would not make it back to town in time for her customary appearance at the Trail’s End. She knew others might not question her absence, but she was sure Toby would, and any search party he might organize would only call attention to activities she preferred to keep secret.

Still frowning when she came over a rise, Samantha suddenly felt her heart leap. In the distance was a ragged fence that marked a boundary, as well as a fellow working at a break in the line. She scrambled toward the figure, only to halt abruptly when the man slowly straightened and turned to afford her complete recognition.

Damn it all, it was Matt.

Aware that she had no recourse, Samantha continued walking toward him. He reached for his shirt with an expression that did not bode well. She struggled to come up with a feasible excuse for being there, yet the breadth of his bare chest and arms, and the beads of sweat that shimmered on his skin and outlined every contour of his muscular
body, distracted her. She remembered only too clearly how eagerly those strong arms had clutched her close against that muscled chest and how sweet the weight of his powerful body had felt when it had lain atop hers. She could not seem to forget it.

The sun continued its relentless assault and Matt frowned more darkly when his shirt adhered to his moist skin, foiling his attempt to cover himself. Having no recourse, he left the faded garment hanging open, unintentionally elevating her awareness of the firm flesh underneath to a breathtaking degree. A trickle of sweat snaked down his chest to disappear into the waistband of his trousers as Samantha forced a smile.

Matt wasn’t smiling. He squinted as Samantha drew closer, a limping horse behind her. It occurred to him that he had never seen her without the makeup of a saloon woman. It stunned him that she was even more beautiful. Her gaze appeared an even brighter brown-green when framed by her naturally dark lashes. The planes of her cheeks were shining and colored by the heat of the day. They drew his eyes to her lips, which seemed even more plump and appealing without the heavy gloss of her trade. Her unbound hair was a cascade of color. He longed to touch it.

The fit of her western garb did not please him, however. She had obviously bought her outfit ready-made, and it was too tight. The bulge of her breasts
could be clearly seen in the sweat-soaked shirt, and the fit of her split skirt displayed the curve of her backside too obviously to suit him.

Yet he could not seem to stop himself from remembering that the taste of those breasts was sweet beyond compare, and that the curve of her backside had called to him as he had run his mouth along the rounded surface.

Halting his rambling thoughts, Matt cursed silently at the feelings that came to life inside him. He loved Jenny, yet she did not arouse him in any way. But Samantha did…endlessly. She excited and challenged him; yet in more intimate moments when other facets of a complex personality emerged, she stirred him to alternating depths of passion and tenderness that shook him to the core. While all else about his feelings for Samantha remained unclear, he could not keep at bay his growing conviction that they had only scratched the surface of emotion between them. He was somehow certain those feelings would take a journey of loving years to explore.

Years.

That simple word brought Matt sharply back to reality as Samantha drew near. A woman like her didn’t reckon constancy in
years.

Aware that his body had reacted spontaneously to the sight of Samantha, Matt attempted to draw his shirt closed. He waited only until she was close enough to hear him before asking darkly, “What are you doing here?”

Appearing unsettled by his manner, Samantha responded, “My…my horse threw a shoe. He went lame.”

“Why did you come?” he persisted.

“I just went for a ride.”

“You’re on my property.”

“I didn’t know where I was,” she responded hesitantly. “I guess I got lost.”

Matt remained silent, his displeasure apparent.

He didn’t believe her.

Samantha stood a few feet from the man who had filled her dreams since the ecstatic night they had spent together. He wasn’t pleased to see her, and he was obviously irritated that she was there.

Controlling her angst, Samantha continued to smile while inwardly thinking that it was she who should be angry. Not only had he left her alone in a bed that was still warm from their lovemaking, but she was now dependent on his whims when she had hoped only to redeem her flagging professionalism.

“You got lost, huh? Well, whatever reason you have for coming here, I suppose you can’t go back until you have a horse that can carry you.”

Samantha raised her chin at Matt’s retort. She replied sarcastically, “I don’t mean to be a burden.”

“You should have thought of that sooner.”

Now she understood. Matt wanted no part of her.

Matt secured her mount’s lead reluctantly to his
horse. He then swung her up onto his saddle without another word. Before she could react, he had mounted behind her.

Unprepared for the surging emotion that swept all other thought from her mind when Matt’s arms closed around her, Samantha went silent. She trembled when he clucked his horse into motion and the heat of his body enclosed hers. His arms were strong, potent in memory. The pressure of his thighs against hers burned. The obvious bulge at his crotch held her breathless as his mount swayed in relentless rhythm. Her objectivity had dissipated completely by the time they reached his ranch house and he said, “Here we are.”

Samantha did not respond when Matt dismounted and lifted her down from the saddle. Nor did she react when he held her so close that she slid erotically down the length of his body. She was unable to respond when he hesitated, his mouth only inches from hers, and said darkly, “My hired men brought a small herd to the railhead. They won’t be back for a few days.”

Silence.

He released her and continued. “I suppose you can wait inside while I shoe your horse.”

Samantha started toward the house with Matt’s footsteps sounding to her rear.

“The house is empty,” Matt repeated as he pushed the door closed behind them. She turned toward him, aware that his breathing was growing heavy
and rapid. His light eyes searched hers in the semidarkness when he suddenly confessed with obvious torment, “You know I didn’t want to leave you that morning, don’t you?” He did not wait for her to reply as he continued. “I never said I’m sorry, Samantha, but I’ll say it now. I’m sorry for what happened. I’m sorry for what can’t be. The truth be told, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry again.” As breathless as he, Samantha could not control the shuddering that racked her as she heard herself whisper, “Please, don’t say another word, Matt. Just love me as if there’s no tomorrow—and I promise I’ll pretend there isn’t.”

Speechless for long moments, Matt then pulled her hungrily into his arms.

Samantha allowed the invasion of Matt’s mouth as they stood just within the doorway of the darkened cabin. The torrid wonder of his kiss deepened, and she did not protest when he loosened her clothing. Leaving her shirt hanging open, he took her breasts into his mouth, seeming as hungry as she for the glory it brought them. She clutched him closer as his ministrations grew fiercer and his appetite for her stronger.

She barely noticed the moment when Matt slipped her split skirt down from her hips and ripped away her small clothes to reveal her naked flesh. The wonder that he induced held her motionless as he caressed
her skin with his lips, and trailed his tongue in a taunting downward quest.