The Enchantment (22 page)

Heroes were supposed to be perfect physical speci-mans, not broken-down, deformed shells that—

No. He refused to think about it. If he gave self-doubt a hint of purchase, it would devour him whole, turn him into a useless shell of a man. He knew; he'd been down that road a thousand times in his life.

Before he'd started searching for the positive in life, he'd been mired in the negative. Strangled by it.

Not this time, he vowed. This time he had to be strong and in control for Emmaline.

Emmaline. The word gave him strength. Forcing his face into a hard expression, he kept moving toward the light.

As if sensing Larence's presence, the Indian looked up. Emotionless black eyes scanned the shadowy veil of night, searching.

It was Ka-Neek.

Larence froze. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Sweat seeped out of his skin and itched across his forehead. Fear strangled him, made it impossible to move. Emmaline had been right; Ka-Neek had meant them harm.

THE ENCHANTMENT

201

He stared at the gun lying across the Indian's crossed legs. Firelight and shadows slithered along its steel barrel, giving the weapon a twisting, snakelike life. No doubt the Indian was a crack shot. God knew he threw wood like an expert.

Larence swallowed hard, forcing away fear. You're Diamond Dick. You can do it. When he almost believed it, he schooled his features into a hard mask and emerged from the darkness.

"Larence!" Emma burst out of the shadows and barreled toward him.

"Don't!" he hissed.

Their eyes met, and even in the half-light, he could see the fear in hers. He prayed she could see the silent warning in his. Her run melted into a shuddering walk and then disappeared altogether. She stood as stiff as a statue, her wide-eyed gaze darting from Larence to Ka-Neek and back to Larence. Only her bound hands, twisting together against her midsection, hinted at the emotions roiling inside her.

Please keep quiet, he thought. / need to concentrate. . . .

She did.

He took a deep breath and looked down at Ka-Neek, who was looking up, measuring him.

Larence steeled himself. A bead of sweat slid down the side of his face. "You took my woman."

Incredibly, his voice sounded calm, strong. Maybe even dangerous. The small success gave him courage.

"I want her back."

A slow, mocking smile tilted one side of Ka-Neek's mouth. It was the only indication that he'd heard.

"If it's money you want—"

202

Kristin Hannah

"No!" Emma cried out unexpectedly. "It's not your—"

Larence shot her an uncompromising glare. "Be quiet, Em. Now."

Her tirade ended in a sharply indrawn breath. Seconds later, he heard the rapid-fire tapping of her booted foot.

To Ka-Neek he said, "We don't have much gold, but perhaps—"

"No!"

"Goddamn it, Emmaline, shut up."

She marched up to him, her face set in that pinched, don't-mess-with-me expression he'd seen a thousand times.

"You don't have money, Larence, / have money. And I refuse to give it to this obnoxious, overbearing sav—"

He yanked her against him. She slammed into his chest with a surprised gasp.

Her eyes bulged. "What in the hell—"

He kissed her. She gasped again, tried to wrench away, but he was too quick for her. His hand glided up the stiff column of her neck and fastened in her thick, silver-gold hair.

He meant to do it quickly, like Diamond Dick had. Just long enough to shut her up. But once he felt the softness of her lips against his, he couldn't pull back, couldn't ease away.

He expected to feel a stinging slap against his cheek, and then remembered that her hands were bound.

She couldn't stop him.

He was being a cad; taking advantage of her when she couldn't fight back. He knew it, and couldn't stop THE ENCHANTMENT

203

himself. This kiss, the feel of her, it felt so good, so incredibly right.

Just one more second . . .

The world slowed to an aching, exquisite crawl. Larence's hold loosened, became more an embrace than a possession. The feminine taste of her filled his senses. Warmth seeped through the tired cotton of her shirtwaist and dampened his flesh. Blood tingled in Larence's veins, thrummed through his body. All thoughts of Diamond Dick vanished; now he was just Larence. And he was holding the woman who'd haunted his days and filled his nights since the moment he saw her.

Something banged against his chest. It was a moment before he realized that she was hitting him with her knotted fists. Hitting him hard. He pulled away. Cold air immediately rushed in, breezing across his lips and reminding him that the kiss was over.

She glared up at him, breathing hard. Her eyes were icy-cold and filled with disgust.

The fire in Larence's blood chilled. His broad shoulders sagged. For a second there, he'd thought they had come close to something special.

No, he reminded himself sharply. They hadn't been close to something special. He had, and as usual, he'd been there alone.

"How dare you," she hissed. "No kiss is going to shut me up. And we aren't going to give that sav—"

Larence clamped a hand over her mouth.

Angry-sounding words muffled against his palm. Her eyes narrowed, shot blue fire.

"I'm going to take away my hand now. But I want you to be quiet, okay?" He eased his hand from her mouth.

"Why, you—"

204

Kristin Hannah

"Bad move." He yanked the bandanna from his pants pocket. Before she could stutter a word, he gagged her.

Her eyes bulged.

"What do you expect?" he whispered. "You can't go around calling people 'savage.' Especially not people with big guns. You left me no—" Her fist slammed into his chest, and his breath expelled in a rush.

He straightened. "Now, that wasn't—"

She kicked him in the shin.

He groaned and backed out of the field of fire. He'd deal with her anger later, when they were both calmer. Right now he had more important things to do. Taking a deep breath, he wiped the expression from his face and turned to speak to Ka-Neek.

The Indian was gone. So was his horse.

Frowning, Larence walked over to the fire and squatted down beside its bright warmth. His fingertips grazed the sandy soil, searching for some sign of Ka-Neek's presence. But there wasn't so much as a crease in the dirt. Nothing. No hint of the man who'd been sitting there only moments before . . .

What in the hell was going on? Certainly they hadn't imagined Ka-Neek? He laid a hand to his thigh and started to push to his feet.

Then something caught his attention. He plucked it up and moved closer to the fire's light. It was a perfectly formed circle of tanned leather. Curious, he flipped it over and saw a blackish red symbol.

He gasped. With half an ear he heard Emmaline come up behind him, but he didn't turn around. He couldn't. He was frozen to the spot.

Now he knew why Ka-Neek had taken Emmaline. It wasn't to rob or kill them; it was to give them this message.

THE ENCHANTMENT

205

She squatted beside him. A few muffled words reached his subconscious, but Larence ignored them.

She rammed her shoulder into his. The suddenness of the movement wrecked Larence's always precarious balance. He grabbed Emmaline for support, but it was too late.

He hit the dirt with a thud. Emma landed hard beside him, her bound wrists making it impossible for her to break her fall. She started to roll backward, into the fire. Larence scooped her into his arms and rolled away. When he came to a stop, she was lying flush atop him, her face a hair's breadth from his own.

He stared at a spot just to the right of her ear, too deep in thought to notice Emma at all. What did it mean? Was the Indian threatening to kill them? Or was he trying to save them with a warning?

She grunted angrily and brought her bound wrists up to his chest. Absentmindedly he untied the leather restraints. She untied the gag and yanked it out of her mouth.

"You gagged me," she screamed.

He frowned up at her, baffled. Had she said something? He couldn't remember—his mind was too filled with the image of the bloody marking that meant danger.

"Gagged me! How dare you! I've never been so humiliated in my entire life; why, I ought to . . ."

Larence winced at the loudness of her voice. "Now, Emmaline, I—"

"Don't you 'now, Emmaline' me, you . . . you ..."

A headache started. He couldn't think with her caterwauling like this, and right now he had to think.

He stopped her screeching the Diamond Dick way.

206

Kristin Hannah

Emma smacked his cheek with all the force she could muster. The loud crack echoed through the night's darkness. Before he could utter a word, she threw herself backward.

"Em—" He reached for her. She wrenched out of his grasp and clambered to her feet.

Standing above him, she had a hysterical urge to laugh. The sound welled up inside her, threatening to spill out. She clamped a hand over her mouth and twisted away from him, stumbling mindlessly away from the fire.

He advanced.

Emma felt him coming toward her, and she retreated. She didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to get near enough to touch him. The memory of his lips, so soft and undemanding and caring, against her own sent a flood of ice-cold water down her back. She didn't want to think about that. Not now. Not ever.

Turning to face him, she intended to yell at him to stay away, but something in his eyes made the words clog in her throat. She took a hesitant step backward. Her hands twisted the nubby wool of her skirt.

"Don't you come near me," she said, angered by the breathy sound of her voice.

She sounded like a woman who'd just been kissed— a woman who wanted to be kissed again, and that made her even madder.

Anger brought her chin up. How dare he make her feel this way? How dare he take her out in the middle of nowhere and put her on a burro and lead her as if she were a worthless child toward some city she didn't even believe in? Suddenly it all came crashing in on her: the windstorm, the rainstorm, being abandoned in the hot desert, half-dead, and now this. She'd been kid-THE ENCHANTMENT

207

napped by a half-naked savage and dragged across the desert—only to be rescued and kissed by Larence. It was too much.

"Stay away from me." She backed up. He came closer. Her fingers balled into a fist—just in case.

He didn't hesitate, kept moving toward her with that same quiet, limping gait. Every footfall echoed in her ears like the fall of a hammer against hard-packed earth. She winced, trying to block out the sound.

His hand came out, stretched toward her.

She stared at the flat, pale circle of his palm. Unbidden came a wave of longing. God, how good it would feel to place her hand in his, to let his fingers thread through hers and squeeze. . . .

Run. Now! Before you shatter into a million pieces.

Biting hard on her lower lip, she lunged away from him. Skirting the fire, she ran to the firelight's quivering edge. There she stopped. Uncertainty tugged at the edges of her mouth, trembled in her fingertips.

Beyond, the darkness beckoned, promised anonymity and a place to be alone. But she couldn't take the step. Her feet stayed close together, ankle to ankle, rooted in the gray-brown dirt.

She felt, rather than heard, Larence come up behind her.

"Emmaline?"

His voice, so rich and welcoming, curled around her. She shivered, clutching her arms across her breasts like a protective shield. She felt as if she were standing on a great precipice, her toes jutted foolishly over the edge. Below was a great chasm of darkness; a fall that would break her neck and shatter her soul.

The trembling in her fingertips moved up her arms, rattled through her body, and chattered in her teeth.

Her

,..*«*

208

Kristin Hannah

tearful gaze darted left to right and up and down. Surely there had to be someplace to run, somewhere to go? If she didn't move soon, and fast, she was terrified the angry panic building inside her breast would explode. And what would be left of her after the explosion? What?

The touch was so soft that at first she didn't notice it. Then it tightened. Fingers curled into the tensed flesh of her shoulders, squeezing gently.

"Emmaline?"

She relaxed for a single beat of her heart, then she jerked taut. In one quick, self-defensive move, she spun around and raised her hand to smack his face again.

His hand stopped her in midswing. His fingers curled around her wrist and held fast. She felt the heat of each digit like a brand.

Larence's eyes impaled her, pinned her in place. She had a sudden, terrifying feeling that he could see inside her, see her fear and hysteria and weakness.

Panic clawed through her determination. Wild-eyed, she searched for an escape route. A place to be away from Larence, from this damn desert, from herself . . .

"Emmaline," he said softly, "it's okay to be afraid."

Okay to be afraid. The words slid through the chinks in her armor, swam like melted butter through her nervous system. One by one her trembling fingers stilled, the irritating chattering of her teeth subsided.

Okay to be afraid.

A single tenuous spark of hope flickered in the darkness of her fear. Was it? she wondered tentatively.

Was it okay to admit she'd been afraid? That she was still afraid . . .

She ran her tongue along her lower lip and swallowed hard, then slowly tilted her face up. Shining, uncon-THE ENCHANTMENT

209

demning green eyes stared down at her. Tendrils of curling warmth seemed to reach out to her, offering her a hand to cling to. A place to belong.

She stood riveted to the spot, afraid to move or even to breathe. All her life she'd waited for this moment. Waited for someone to say / care. And yet now that it was here—might be here, her mind qualified—she was afraid to believe. God help her, if she reached for the light he offered and found that it was an illusion, she didn't think she could survive it. The only thing that had kept her going since her parents' deaths was her stubborn independence. Nothing and no one had ever been important to her since. She wasn't weak and needful like her father. . . .