Tarnished Angel (45 page)

    ''It's cold."

    Cold Ross shook his head. The air in the cabin was stagnant and warm, but Devina was shuddering more wildly than before. Ross pulled the blanket up tighter around her, his hand moving to stroke her cheek.

    "Devina."

    But Devina gave no response. Her teeth were beginning to chatter, and a peculiar blue color began to tint her lips. Reluctant to leave her for a moment, Ross glanced toward the doorway of the cabin. His saddle was outside, and secured on it was another blanket. Turning back, Ross leaned toward her, striving to catch her panicked gaze.

    "I'm only leaving you for a minute, Devina. I'll be right back."

    Covering the distance to the doorway in a few rapid steps, Ross was soon in the yard and pulling the blanket from the saddle. Returning as fast as his feet could carry him, he leaned over the bunk and tucked the second blanket around her. Her quaking continued, and Ross began to panic. A sheen of perspiration covered Devina's beautiful face despite her shaking, and he wiped her smooth skin clear with the palm of his hand.

    It was all his fault. Devina had been safe in Tombstone, safe from this kind of danger. If she didn't recover…

    Devina's panicked, blue-eyed stare assailed him again. "I'm c-cold. Please…"

    The realization that she would never appeal to him in such a way if she were in full control of her senses tightened the knot in Ross's throat to the point of pain. He had to do something.

    Leaning over, Ross pulled off his boots. He unbuckled his gun belt and dropped it to the floor, then kicked it aside and drew back the blankets on the bed. With extreme care, he slipped into the bunk beside Devina. Emotion tightening his throat, he slid his arms under and around and pulled her close against him.

    Devina moaned low in her throat, and Ross winced at her pain as he pulled her closer. He whispered soft, gentle assurances as he fitted her slender softness against his chest, tucked her head into the curve of his neck. He curved his hand around the    contours of her firm buttocks, fitting her softness flush against the heat of his body. He held her tight, rocking slightly back and forth until the blankets were tucked firmly around them.

    Wrapped in a cocoon of warmth, Ross pressed his cheek against the dampness at Devina's temple. She began perspiring profusely, her shuddering slowly subsiding, and Ross felt his edge of panic begin to drop away.

    "Rest, Devina. Close your eyes. I'D take care of you. You're going to be all right."

    Devina was motionless in his arms at last, but Ross's grip did not loosen. He could not release her. Not yet.

    Narrow shafts of light shone through the openings in the boarded windows, and Ross squinted at his first waking realization that it was dawn. Devina lay still wrapped in his arm, and he looked down anxiously at her motionless, sleeping face. Her body's night-long battle against the poison was evident in her unnatural pallor, her perspiration-soaked hair, and the dark shadows under her closed eyes. But she was breathing evenly, and she looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her.

    Carefully unwrapping the blankets from around them, Ross withdrew from Devina's clinging warmth. She stirred, her heavy eyelids flicking open, then dropping closed once more. The cool morning air of the cabin touched his own perspiration-soaked clothing, and Ross was immediately alerted to the danger of chill for Devina. Quickly stripping off his shirt, he flung the clinging garment onto the floor. Relieved of its dampness, he decided on his course of action.

    He turned and made his way outside. A quick search of his saddlebags turned up the ragged shirt he had worn the day he robbed the stage. It would serve the purpose.

    Ross hurried back to Devina's side. He uncovered her, and her eyes flew open. She shuddered.

    "It's all right, Devina."

    Devina closed her eyes at his soft reassurance, and Ross began working at the buttons on her shirt. His fingers grew more clumsy with each button he unfastened, each new patch of smooth white skin revealed to his eyes. The final button undone, he removed the shirt and threw it to the floor. He then dispensed with her delicate chemise, his eyes touching her naked feminine flesh for the first time.

    His heart was racing, but he had no time for the myriad feelings assaulting him. Raising her gently, Ross slipped the clean, dry shirt on her body. He buttoned it with trembling fingers, then released a long, shaky breath. His work was not yet done.

    Quickly unbuttoning the closure on her oversize trousers, Ross stripped them away, uncovering her wounded leg with infinite care. His eyes touched on the shadowed triangle barely visible through the sheer fabric of her
underdrawers
, and he swallowed, tightly. With shaking hands Ross dispensed with the flimsy garment. His eyes touched Devina's smooth, unmarked skin, the moist, golden brown curls nestled in the appealing delta between her thighs. His chest heaving, he closed his eyes in an attempt to regain his composure.

    A tremor shook Devina's slender frame, and a flush of guilt assailed Ross. Quickly smoothing the oversize shirt down over her bare flesh, Ross pulled up the blankets once more.

    Returning his mind to the task at hand, Ross lifted the bottom of the blanket to reveal Devina's injured ankle. He assessed the discolored area, the cuts made by his knife, and elation touched his mind. The swelling had not spread, had, in fact, abated. Devina would recover.

    Ross's relief was so profound that he felt a startling desire to laugh as he drew himself to his feet. This woman and the conflicting feelings she aroused in him had efficiently reduced him to a quivering, shaken wreck. He had to get himself in hand.

    Devina moved abruptly in her sleep, interrupting his thoughts. Ross frowned as a grimace of pain swept her delicate features and her eyes flicked open once more. She looked searchingly in his direction, straining to penetrate the dim light of the room. Stepping closer, Ross looked down into her pale face. He reached out to stroke her cheek, tenderness welling within him.

    Devina attempted to speak, but her voice emerged in an unintelligible croak. Ross crouched beside her and gently stroked a few silver-blond wisps from her temple. She raised her hand weakly to cover his, finally succeeding in a hoarse whisper, "Charles…"

    
Charles!

    Ross's shock slowly changed to hot fury. Curling his hand around hers, he held it captive as he leaned toward her with a low whisper, "No, Devina. It isn't Charles."

    But she appeared not to hear him. Her eyes drifting closed; her lips moved again to a single, soundless name:
Charles
.

    
No,
dammit
, no!

    Rage assuming control, Ross slowly raised himself to his feet. He stripped off his pants and dropped them on the floor. Raising one corner of the blanket, he slipped into the bunk and with great gentleness took Devina into his arms. He fitted her against him, gritting his teeth as she muttered the name again: "
Charles
."

    Pulling her closer, Ross pressed his lips to Devina's hair. He'd make her forget Charles existed.

Chapter XVII

    His eyes half closed, his narrow, unshaven face composed in an expression of indifference, the balding piano player banged out another raucous tune. Jake glanced around him, noting that the only reaction the fellow had received from the other patrons of the Crystal Palace Saloon was the raised volume of their voices as they sought to make themselves beard over the din. Jake frowned, unconsciously straining to identify the piece. He thought he had a good ear for music, but in the time he had been spending in Tombstone saloons in the past weeks, he had come to believe he was wrong. All the songs these fellows played sounded
alikelively
and loud. He took a long, cool swallow of whiskey. He was getting a headache.

    Jake shifted his position at the long polished bar for a better view of the offices of Till-Dale Enterprises. With affected indifference, he pushed back his hat, allowing a shock of wavy wheat-colored hair to fall over his forehead. He had arrived in Tombstone in the early hours of morning, but he had slept only a few hours. It had made little difference that his body ached from fatigue or that the bed in the Occidental Hotel was one of the most comfortable he had slept on in recent memory. A tense agitation had overwhelmed him the moment he opened his eyes, and he had been unable to go back to sleep. He had made only two concessions to his physical exhaustion: a trip to the baths and a hearty breakfast. He had been keeping watch from the various bars up and down the street in the time since.

        His ears keenly attuned to the conversations around him, Jake had been able to pick up enough information to convince him that nothing had changed; the general public still knew almost nothing about Devina Dale's kidnapping. He had listened to considerable speculation, but had made few comments on the affair. His observation of the Till-Dale offices had shown that no unusual activity was progressing there. George
Tillson
had shown up at the usual time, but, as yet, Harvey Dale had not appeared. Jake darted a quick glance at the clock over the bar. Eleven-thirty. Well, he would wait a little longer, and then he'd wander around town and try to find out where Harvey Dale was spending his time.

    The emergence of a familiar figure into his line of vision interrupted Jake's thought, and he squinted his pale eyes in tense appraisal. Harvey Dale was walking up the street toward his offices. Jake's lips twitched in a fleeting smile. Ross should be here right now. One glimpse would do him a world of good.

    Dale was a changed man. Gone was his characteristically confident step and the conceited tilt of the head. Jake had no personal grievance against Dale, but the man's obvious high opinion of himself had struck a jarring chord inside him from the first.

    He scrutinized Harvey Dale's approaching figure more closely. Even from a distance he could see that Dale was tense. It was obvious the man was ripe for the ransom note he had in his pocket. He'd wait one more day, as Ross had instructed, and then he'd deliver it. Things would start happening quickly after that, and if everything went the way Ross planned, they'd be out of the Arizona Territory before another few weeks were over.

    Harvey Dale turned into his office, and Jake shifted his position to rest his elbows on the bar. The scent of cheap perfume preceded a light touch on his shoulder from behind, and the sensation of a womanly arm slipping around his waist. Jake turned to look into a brightly painted female face and a heavy-lidded, provocative gaze. He raised his light brows and gave her a tentative smile. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

    The reply to his question was low and throaty. "You're
stealin
' my line, cowboy. I'm the one who usually does the
helpin
' around here. I help
fella's
like you to relax, pass a little   time. I help them to feel real good. As a matter of fact, I'm an expert at
makin
'
fellas
like you feel good."

    Jake laughed. "
Fellas
like me?"

    "Yeah,
fellas
with time on their hands.
Fellas
who look like they got a lot on their minds and need a little fun."

    Jake's smile dimmed.

    "So I look like I need a little fun."

    The smiling bar girl inched closer and rubbed her full breasts against his chest. The smell of unwashed flesh mixed with the overwhelming fragrance of her perfume, and Jake fought to suppress his distaste. He remembered Lai Hua's clean, fresh scent; her pretty features, free of paint; the inner beauty that shone in her eyes. A sense of desolation swept over him, and he smiled apologetically.

    "You're right, ma'am. I do need a little fun. But you hit the nail right on the head when you said I had a lot on my mind. I'm
thinkin
' that as much as I'm tempted, right now isn't the time to take advantage of your generous offer." Dipping his head politely, Jake continued in a lower tone, "But I appreciate the offer, ma'am, and I'd like to buy you a drink." Not waiting for the woman's reply, Jake signaled the bartender. ''Jack, give the lady a drink."

    Reaching into his pocket, Jake pulled out a coin and put it on the bar with a tip of his hat. Within a few minutes, he was outside, the high heels of his boots clicking hollowly against the board sidewalk as he walked toward the outskirts of town. He adjusted his hat at a rakish angle. Hell, he would have to do better than this if he was going to make people think he was in Tombstone just to pass some, time between jobs. He had never thought it would be so hard to do nothing and look as if he was enjoying it.

    Jake slid his hand casually into his pocket. His fingers touched the smooth, silky ribbon. He knew for a fact that Lai Hua was still working at the Dale house, that she'd be coming back along the trail in a few hours. When she walked past tonight she'd see the red ribbon tied to the bush. He'd meet her at the shack and he'd explain. Hell, he had to do something.

    As Lai Hua walked silently to the door of the kitchen, Molly looked soberly in her direction. Lai Hua bobbed her head and attempted a smile. Smiling was difficult in the Dale household    when every step, every sound, made people look up with apprehension, with anxiety, with slowly diminishing hope. Over a week had passed and no communication had been received from those who had abducted Miss Devina.