Scotsman Wore Spurs (40 page)

Finally, he understood how much courage it had taken her to deceive him for his own sake. Just as it had taken courage to make every move she had made since her father's violent death. He'd been so sure about the black and white of truthfulness. He'd made his demons hers.

“I wanted to tell you,” she sniffed. “I wanted to tell you so badly, but—”

“Hush, lass,” he said, cradling her in his arms. “I said it's all right, and I meant it. And I thank you for caring. No one ever has before. But I want you to trust me, too. I'll not be running out and doing something foolish.”

She lifted her face to his. “Do you promise?” she said in an almost childlike tone.

He had to smile. “Aye. But you must promise to do the same. Running off on a trail drive is not the most sensible thing I've ever heard of a lass doing.”

“What about a Scots gambler running off on a trail drive?” she countered with another sniff.

He chuckled. “You have me there.”

He looked down at her and felt he was looking at the face of an angel. Her eyes were swimming in tears but luminous in the light from a million stars. Love shone in her face as surely as the moon shone from above, and it shattered the last barrier to his heart as if it were no more than dust scattered by a warm summer breeze.

He loved and was loved.

He marveled over the miracle as his lips met hers.

Chapter Twenty-one

Night had deepened into the wee hours before dawn, and Gabrielle sighed, snuggling deeper into Drew's arms.

Silently, she acknowledged that honesty had a great deal going for it. The frost of the past few days had melted at her confession, and she felt Drew had truly opened his heart for the first time and allowed her to slip inside. He hadn't said the words, had not uttered what she wanted to hear. And yet his kiss and his touch had offered, even promised, love in abundance. It was enough for now.

She found herself regretting that he'd been careful again not to spill his seed in her. She'd wanted it. But his will had been iron. “I'll not leave a bastard,” he'd said in a strangled voice at the height of passion.

Recognizing the bitterness of his words, Gabrielle remembered the conversation they'd had not long ago. “
I'm a bastard in fact, if not in law.
” She'd wanted to ask what he meant, wanted to know about his background, his family, but it had been no time for asking questions. Nor was it now. The pain in him ran deep and raw, and she would not, could not, salt the wounds. One day, in his own time, he would tell her, and perhaps then she could ease some of the pain she sensed.

She sighed with the warm, deep joy of lying next to him. She spent the past few hours wrapped in Drew's arms, humbly grateful to be there. It was so much more than she'd expected, dreamed of, hoped for. They had ventured to the brink of paradise time and time again, their lips meeting and melding and searching, their bodies clinging to each other. Even thinking about it, she ached to feel him within her once more.

How could one love so much, so deeply, so intensely? She didn't know, didn't want to question it; she simply wanted to feel every wonderful wondrous second. She did exactly that, then finally, reluctantly, opened her eyes. The sky had visibly lightened; the stars were fading fast, and the crescent moon had already fallen below the horizon. It was time to get back. Ha'Penny would wake soon and need to be fed, though she knew one fretful cry from the infant would bring every drover rushing to the wagon.

She stirred, rousing Drew who mumbled sleepily. He stretched, and his cheek brushed hers. His face was rough with stubble, but she loved the feel of it anyway, loved the intimacy of sharing the night with him. She didn't even want to think about how she looked; her hair a tangle of curls and her shirt completely rumpled.

But Drew grinned at her, reminding her of a boy who'd just played hooky from school to go fishing and had made his biggest catch ever. Her heart somersaulted at seeing him so obviously happy.

“I think we need to rise,” he said lazily, his hand stroking her arm from shoulder to wrist.

“Probably,” she agreed reluctantly.

He took her hand and raised it to his mouth, nuzzling it. “You taste delicious.”

“It must be the peppers I put in the beans,” she teased.

“'Tis not peppers I taste,” he disagreed with a smile, “though you have become a passable cook.”

“Passable?”

“Fair, then?” he amended.

“I'll ban you from my bean pot,” she threatened.

He groaned. “I vow I'll never eat another bean after this drive.”

“I don't think I'll ever cook one, either,” Gabrielle agreed heartily.

“Do you know how to make decent tea?”

For some reason, his question made her heart pound faster. Was he alluding to a future together? Or was she simply jumping to conclusions?”

“You don't like my coffee?” she ventured.

“Muddy brew from a tin pot is utterly uncivilized,” he exclaimed.

“I thought you
liked
uncivilized. I thought you wanted an adventure. Now you tell me that you want
tea
!”

“I also like good brandy,” he chuckled. “And a good cigar.”

“What else?” she said, knowing she was fishing shamelessly for words of affection.

His fingers traced her cheek. “A game of chance. A sunrise.” He sighed. “Ah, lass, I fear I'm a poor prize. I've little to show for my life but what's on my back and a name I've all but destroyed.”

“I don't care about a name,” she pointed out. “And I don't care about your lack of money. I have a little myself.” She felt his hand tighten around hers.

“I won't be taking any money from a lass,” he said.

“Oh, you won't?” Anger stirred in her. “You'll just take a roll in the hay, is that it? And here I thought—No.” She fought her way out of his arms and rose to her feet. “No, maybe I didn't think. I believed you were different. But it seems you're just an arrogant ass.”

She searched the ground for her trousers. She couldn't stomp back to camp in righteous indignation without her clothes.

“Looking for these?” Drew had stood and slipped on his own trousers, and he was dangling hers from his fingertips.

“Yes,” she said primly as she reached out to grab them.

He moved, holding them out of her grasp, “An arrogant ass?” he asked ominously.

“An arrogant Scottish ass,” she agreed.

“I didn't know you had such a temper, Of course, Gabe had one, but sweet Gabrielle? My, my, my.”

“You inspire me,” she shot back.

He chuckled. “What a termagant!”

“Better a termagant than the backside of a mule,” she countered.

“I have a partiality for termagants,” he admitted. “Might you have one for asses?”

His eyes were twinkling, and his voice had turned lazy and warm. She clenched her fists, trying to hold out against his irresistible charm. He used it to avoid certain subjects, to defuse and confuse, and for once she refused to succumb to it.

“I do not have any such partiality,” she announced, reaching again for her trousers. It surprised her that he allowed her to snatch them.

“It wasn't a roll in the hay,” he said quietly, all amusement gone. “I'll not have you believing that it was.”

“Then why …?”

“I'm not sure I can be what you deserve,” he said.

“I want what you
are
,” she replieds fiercely.

“Ah, lass, you don't even know me.”

Exasperated, she exclaimed, “You keep telling me that, and it isn't true. I
do
know you! I know all I need to know. I know your kindness, your gentleness, your loyalty. And I know that everyone looks up to you because of what you do so naturally, without thought.”

He was silent for a moment. “I thought I was an ass.”

“That, too,” she agreed. “It sort of balances things out. One wouldn't want too much of a good thing.”

His arms came around her, holding her tightly. Fiercely. “I don't think I could bear seeing disappointment in those blue eyes of yours.”

She stopped the words with her fingertips pressed to his lips. “I love you, Drew Cameron. I don't think I could ever love anyone else the way I love you.”

A choked sound came from his throat. “I—”

“No,” she said. “Don't answer. Not now. But know that I love you and I want you. And I don't give up easily.”

She fled then, her trousers in hand, her heart quaking at her own pronouncement. She knew she could have stayed and tried to drag a similar declaration out of him, but she didn't want it that way. She wanted him more than life itself. But as deep and strong as that emotion flowed within her, she had to know that he wanted her the same way, loved her with the same uncompromising strength. Next time, he would have to come to her.

“I'm going back to Texas with you,” Drew said as he rode out with Kirby in the morning to scout the next ten miles.

“The hell you are,” Kirby growled back. “If you go, Gabrielle will go. And I'll not have you both risking your necks for me.”

“No, she won't,” Drew said. “I'll send her to my brother-in-law's ranch near Denver.”

Kirby looked incredulous. “You really think she'd stay there?”

“Not willingly,” Drew replied, “But if anyone can keep her in Denver, it's my sister Lisbeth and her husband Ben Masters.”

“Hmph.” Kirby scowled. “Dammit, Drew, you're no gunfighter.”

“Neither are you,” he replied.

“But it's my battle, not yours. Someone's after me for what
I
did.”

“They're also after Gabrielle,” Drew said quietly. “And that
is
my battle.”

Kirby shot him a piercing glance. “Is it?”

“Aye,” Drew said. “It most definitely is.”

The older man studied him for a moment, then gave a short nod. “I'm glad to hear it. But why don't you just go East with her? Or even to Scotland? She'll be safe, then.”

“Could you ever relax your guard,” Drew asked, “knowing there was someone out there who wanted you—or someone you cared for—dead?”

He was gratified when Kirby stopped protesting.

“Apparently someone is prepared to go to any length to make sure you, and maybe Gabrielle, are dead. Killian probably didn't come cheap, and whoever it is must have spent a considerable amount of money for detectives to find Gabrielle's father and you. It seems to me the stakes are very high.” Preparing himself for another argument, Drew said, “I think you should tell Damien. We might need him, and he's good with a gun.”

As expected, Kirby shook his head. “I want to keep my family out of it.”

“Jon could be the next target,” Drew warned.

Kirby quickly turned toward him, and Drew saw the instant fear streak across his friend's face. “Damn …” The trail boss's voice was strained with tension. “Jon was outside the bank, holding the horses. He rode with us when we hightailed it out of town. Dammit, yes, Jon knows everything—and Cal Thornton knows that he knows.”

“Then Damien should know,” Drew said. “And Terry. Whoever is behind this has already killed Gabrielle's father, tried to kill her, and has tried twice to kill you. It seems obvious that he isn't going to stop until everyone who had anything to do with the robbery is dead—and that includes Jon.”

“Dear God,” Kirby said. “They think I'm already dead. Killian could be on his way right now to …” His voice trailed off.

Drew was silent, only too aware of the implications.

“I'll have to resurrect myself sooner than I expected,” Kirby said.

“We're only two weeks from Abilene,” Drew said. “Damien can take the herd in.”

Beside him, Kirby was riding with his gaze fixed straight ahead, his breathing heavy and disturbed. “There're a dozen ranchers depending on me,” he said. “They're trusting me to get them the best price. Some of them might lose their ranches if I don't. I'm not sure Damien can handle it yet.”

“Well, I bloody well can't,” Drew admitted. “But I
can
go back to Texas.”

“Killian has several days' head start.”

“But he doesn't know we know about him.”

“Drew, I can't ask you to go.”

“Try to keep me from it,” Drew said. “I'll leave at dawn tomorrow for Caldwell and telegraph Jon, warn him to be careful. You send Gabrielle to my brother-in-law in Denver. He's a former U.S. marshal, and he'll make sure she's safe. No one knows she's with us, so she won't be followed.”

Kirby snorted. “Gabrielle will want to go with
you
.”

“She won't know I'm gone until it's too late,” Drew said, knowing she was going to hate his plan. He fully expected her to be as mad as a wet hen when she found out, but both he and Kirby had bloody few choices if they were to keep the people they loved safe.

And he most definitely intended to keep Gabrielle safe. He was still sifting through the miracle in his mind that someone loved him.
Really
loved him. And while he hadn't quite assimilated that astonishing fact enough to respond to it, he wasn't about to give up his chance of
ever
responding simply because he had failed to take a few reasonable precautions and, as a result, lost her. She could be as angry as she liked—as long as she continued to live.

Kirby growled something indecipherable, then spoke in half-embarrassed tones. “Are you sure you want to do this to her? Leave without so much as an explanation or goodbye.”

“No,” Drew said. “I'd rather be horsewhipped. And horsewhipping will probably be kinder than her reaction when I see her again. But I can't take a chance with her life.”

Kirby looked dubious.

Drew gave him a dry smile. “You want to tie her up and keep her from following me? Once I'm gone long enough, she'll be easier to persuade to go Denver.”