She turned around, picked up a stone the size of her fist and glanced over her shoulder. He stood with his back to her beside the horse, leaning over to adjust the cinch. Before he could react, she stepped forward and brought the rock down hard on his head.
He turned, his eyes narrowed. He fingered his bleeding forehead, a questioning look on his face.
With an unpleasant realization of what she was about to do, she brought her knee up forcefully into his groin. He gave a keening moan and dropped to his knees, one hand on his head, the other clasped around his bruised personal parts.
“I am truly sorry,” she whispered. She spun on her heel and fled into the high prairie grass, putting as much distance between them as she possibly could. She ran, her legs pumping madly as she dashed through the tall grass. She didn’t stop, and she didn’t look back.
Chance caught up to Sam Smith around dawn. The man stood by the road, bent over at an awkward angle, relieving his bladder. He glanced over his shoulder, a pained expression on his face. As Chance drew closer, a startled look came across Smith’s features. He finished his business in a rush, buttoned up his britches and hobbled toward his horse as if he had just stopped for this reason alone and was in a hurry to get on his way. A purple bruise marred his chin, and a bloody gash cut across his temple.
He tipped his hat as if they were standing on the boardwalk in Grand Fork passing the time of day. “Looks like it’s going to be a nice day, sir.”
“Don’t humor me, Smith. I’m not in the mood. Where’s Trixianna?”
“Trixianna?” he asked, in an exasperated tone of voice. “I thought that was Mad Maggie West you were holding.”
“I knew you had her, you low-down skunk.”
I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lifted his leg, winced, and stepped into the stirrup. Chance drew his revolver and leveled it at Smith’s chest.
Smith lowered his leg and moved away from his mount. He folded his arms across his chest, a belligerent glare on his wounded face.
Still astride his own horse, Chance leaned on the saddle horn. From his vantage point, he gazed down at Smith. “Throw down your gun.”
“Now wait a dang minute.”
“Do it,” Chance ordered.
The man obliged. “Dammit, Magrane, I—”
Chance drew the hammer back on his Colt.
The loud click startled Smith. He visibly swallowed, but otherwise didn’t move.
“Where’s Mad Maggie?”
Smith released a heavy sigh. “She said she had to go…you know.” He ducked his head, blushing like a schoolboy.
Chance nodded, then smiled. It sounded like one of her ploys. It took someone as feebleminded as Sam Smith to fall for it, though.
What was he saying? She’d brought him down a few times with less trouble than it took to cross the street…or eat a slice of cranberry pie.
“I turned around to give her some privacy and before I knew it, she cracked me over the head with a rock, then kneed me between the legs. Before I could breathe again, she took off like a jackrabbit with his tail on fire. I never seen the like. I figured as soon as I could stand up without puking, I’d just lope on into the weeds and track her down. She wouldn’t be hard to find, wearin’ her night things and all.”
Chance couldn’t believe his ears. “She’s not dressed?”
“Nope.”
“Is her hair down?”
“Sure. She was sleepin’ when I took her.”
“Well, hell,” muttered Chance. He heaved a sigh of relief. Thank God she was all right. But his blood heated and thundered through his veins at the thought of that thin nightgown she wore to bed and her russet hair flying loose as she ran. “You know, Smith, I’m not even sure that she is Mad Maggie. The sheriff from Dena Valley is due in town tomorrow.”
“I guess I don’t get that five hundred then?”
“What you get is to ride away without me putting a bullet in your backside. What made you think you could get away with it anyway?”
“I never figured on you catching me. I didn’t mean no hard.”
“You were headed for Dena Valley, weren’t you?”
He nodded.
“Not too smart, Smith.”
Smith jumped on his horse, shaking his head.
“I’ll be seeing you, Magrane.”
“Stay out of Grand Fork, Smith.”
The sound of Smith’s laughter and the clip-clop of horse’s hooves drifted away on the wind, leaving Chance wondering where he’d find Mad Maggie in a never-ending sea of Kansas prairie grass.
Trixianna ran until she thought her legs would collapse beneath her. Then she ran some more. Finally, panting and out of breath, she crumpled to the ground in a dry, narrow gully. She lay there listening, her ears perked for any unusual sound. She heard the wind whispering through the grass and the grasshoppers chirping around her. Above her head, a hawk circled and then dove out of sight. The sun shone bright just over the eastern horizon in a cloudless sky. She heard no horse’s whinny. No angry, masculine voice called for her. She released a deep, shuddering sigh of relief and closed her eyes.
How close had she come to…what? She still didn’t know what he’d wanted. The reward money? She started to shake. Tears pricked the back of her lids. She gulped hard trying not to release them, but the big, wet tears slid down her cheeks, scalding her face. Hard, gut-wrenching sobs tore from her throat. She couldn’t hold the emotion back any longer. She lay down in the tall grass, her head on her arm, and wept with anguished relief.
Chance heard her before he saw her. Deep, tortured sobs brought a shiver to his spine. His ears twitched as cold fear clenched his stomach in tight knots. He dismounted and ran toward the sound of her voice, afraid of finding Trixianna harmed: beaten, bloodied or worse.
He ran through the tall grass, and almost tripped as he descended into a dry, rocky basin where a creek used to flow. She lay on her side there, surrounded by rocks and large boulders. With her head in her hands and her gown up around her knees, he couldn’t see her face. But he could still hear those heart-wrenching sobs.
He stumbled across the stream bed and dropped to his knees beside her. “Trixianna?”
A stumble may prevent a fall.
– Thomas Fuller M.D.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHANCE JERKED Trixianna to a sitting position, his fingers squeezing her arms. He met her startled gaze, revealing scared, misty-green eyes glistening with tears. He stared at her pale face, each freckle standing out in sharp, vivid contrast. She’d never looked more beautiful.
He pulled her roughly into his embrace. His Stetson dropped off the back of his head. He ignored it as he listened to her try to muffle a sob, then another. He lifted her onto his lap, cradling her head against his chest.
“Go ahead,” he said in a broken whisper. Her anguish consumed him, ripping his heart to shreds. “Cry. Let it all out. You’re safe now.”
Chance rocked her in his arms as she wept like a small child, hiccuping and gasping for breath between sobs. A ragged lump lodged in his throat. God, he’d done this by leaving her unprotected. Doube about her identity plagued him anew. Who was this woman? Right now, regardless of who she was and how it affected his future, he’d gladly take her pain as his own.
She lifted her head to the hollow between his shoulder and neck, where it fit to perfection. Her trembling arms clung to him, her tears soaking his chambray shirt. He brushed his hands through her hair, allowing his fingers to tangle in its silky length. He dropped his hands to the small of her back where he held her close.
Eventually her sobs slowed until all he heard was her slow, even breathing. He closed his eyes and relished the feel of her soft unbound breasts against his chest, her thigh pressed against his knee. The warmth of her sighs tickled his neck. She lifted her head. Tears still glimmered on her lashes, and her reddened cheeks were puffy, her nose pink. But those freckles on her face still lured him…
Chance clenched his h
ands into fists to keep from reaching down and lifting the thin barrier of cotton that kept his hands from her creamy, smooth skin.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I never cry.”
“I guess you’re entitled once in a while,” Chance said. A bleak smile crossed her face, frightening him. He had to swallow the apprehension in his throat before he spoke. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” she replied. Her voice sounded tired, almost resigned.
He fought the urge to kiss away her unhappiness and make her forget everything but what lay unspoken between them.
She met his gaze. “Did you think I ran away?”
“No. I knew Smith took you.”
“Who is he?”
“A bounty hunter after your reward money. He’s long gone.”
Her eyes brightened. “I’m glad you didn’t think the worst of me.”
He chuckled. After what she’d just been through, he admired her spunk. “Not this time.”
A glint of amusement danced in her eyes. She looked at him with a gaze of such intense pleasure his stomach lurched. He released a long, ragged sigh.
Then she dropped her head to his shoulder again. She moved one of her hands, splayed against his stomach, across his ribs with a caressing, circular motion that sent a shiver rippling through his body. He swallowed hard, then squeezed his eyes shut and hoped to God she wouldn’t notice the way his body reacted to her innocent touch. He refused to betray her unqualified trust in him. A trust he was beginning to have in her, too.
A powerful instinctive response to finding her alive and unharmed enveloped him. He fought it hard…and lost. Brushing his lips against her cheek, he whispered, “I’m going to kiss you now unless you object.”
Why would she? Right now, she wanted it more than life itself. Trixianna’s breath caught in her throat. She stared into Chance’s irresistible eyes, and saw only longing and tenderness in his gaze. “I’d like you to. Can you do one thing for me first, though?”
He gathered her tight in his arms, his brow furrowed. “What’s that?”
“Call me Trixianna.”
He gave her a startled look just a second before plunging his hands into her hair. He seemed to be studying the strands intertwined in his fingers. Then he pressed a light kiss on her brow. Bestowing a line of kisses over her cheeks and on the tip of her nose, he said, “I’ve been wanting to kiss that stubborn nose of yours since the first day I saw you in my jail…Trixianna.”
Her name on his tongue sent shivers up her spine, and down to the very tips of her toes. Anticipation tingled in the pit of her stomach. “Why?”
“Well, hell, woman. Those freckles of yours are darned sexy, that’s why.”
“Oh, my.”
“Trixianna, I’m going to kiss you now,” he breathed just before he claimed her lips. And he did kiss her, with a thoughtful exploration, a tender journey. Then he became more thorough, and before long, his kisses consumed her. He used his whole mouth—velvet tongue, sharp teeth, warm breath—to wander, to travel, to capture her with a slow, sensual seduction.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her hands in his thick, black hair. “Chance,” she choked out, feeling weak and trembly. Confused by her tumbling emotions, she sought his gaze.
“Kiss me back, Trixianna,” he demanded, his voice thick, his eyes appealing. His thumb rubbed a tiny circle against her collarbone. She stared into his face, shivery with expectation.
Her knees weakened, her heart thundered. She returned the kiss, following his unspoken direction, nibbling his lips with her teeth, drinking in the sweetness of his mouth. She lifted her lips from his, panting, and wanting more.
He cupped the back of her head, then slid his hands through her hair. Catching a strand, he brought it to his mouth to kiss it. He stroked it across his cheek, his brow. He slowly closed his eyes.
Conscious of his warm touch, rough and seeking, through the thin covering of her gown, Trixianna placed her hands against his chest. His heart pulsed beneath her palms. With shaking fingers, she undid the top buttons of his shirt and slid her hands inside. The muscles of his powerful chest, hot and sleek, twitched beneath her exploring. When her thumb grazed his nipple, it puckered and hardened. She felt, then heard, his indrawn breath. She looked up.
“Trixianna,” he whispered in an agonized voice. “This feels so right, but God knows, it probably isn’t.”
She had no answers for him. She couldn’t think of right or wrong for she was confused herself. She only knew she wanted him to touch her and kiss her.
He shook his head as though clearing it, then closed his eyes. Reclaiming her lips again, he pulled her to him, and gave her a hungry kiss. His demanding lips and thrusting tongue forced her mouth open. She savored the unfamiliar sensations spiraling through her.
Chance lifted her gown and slid his calloused hand up her shin, passing over her knee to the tender flesh on the inside of her thigh. She felt his fingers tremble as they stroked her skin, his hand easing higher up her leg. Her knees fell open and she pushed her hips forward… wanting, needing his touch.
Trixianna gasped as his hand cupped her between her legs, his fingers stroking the moist curls, his thumb caressing in a circular motion.
“Ah, honey,” murmured Chance. His breath whispered against her lips. “Relax…there, that’s it…now let it happen. Just relax and let it happen.”
She didn’t understand the insistent way her body was responding to Chance’s questing fingers, but she willingly followed his instructions. She bit her lip and let go.
Suddenly a sparkling pattern of colored lights lit up behind her eyelids. Her muscles contracted and spasmed around his fingers, holding them tight inside her body. A quiver shot through her like a bolt of lightning. She went taut, then slack, her whole being up-ended and spiraling.
Trixianna opened her eyes to find Chance staring at her. His gaze was so piercing, so intensely absorbed on her face, that it sent another tremor coursing through her limbs.
He lowered his gaze. She heard him swallow. He inhaled a deep breath between parted lips. Slowly he took his hand away and gently pulled her night rail back down over her hips and legs. He pushed away, leaving her mouth and flesh burning with fire. He shoved against his denim trousers with the heel of one hand, as a crimson flush covered his cheekbones. His bronzed features now held an expression of such hopelessness that she wanted to weep for whatever he felt. Guilt? Shame? Regret? She couldn’t tell. Despair plucked at her heart.
His head drooped and sank to her shoulder. Taking her hand in his, he said in a thick raspy voice, unlike his usual confident tone. “This has got to stop now.”
She nodded. “I know.”
He brought one of her hands to his lips and gently kissed the knuckles. “You know this is wrong.”
She nodded again, too miserable to reply.
“But, damn,” he whispered. “How can it feel so right when I know in my gut it’s not?”“ He turned his gaze to her hand, flipping it over and then back. He stared at her swollen, bruised knuckles. His brows shot upward. “What’s this? What’d you do to your hand?”
She stared at it, surprised by the injury. She remembered hitting her kidnapper, but it seemed such a long time ago. So much had happened since then. “I-I struck that awful man.”
Her answer seemed to amuse him. His countenance brightened. “By any chance on the chin?”
“How did you know?”
He chuckled, then kissed her palm. “That’s not all you did, either, is it?”
Heat stole into Trixianna’s cheeks. “Well, no, not exactly.”
“He was as green as frog sh…well, hell, what I mean is, he was green as a frog’s overcoat when I came across him.”
“Was he very angry? I was afraid he’d come after me.”
“No. He seemed more dazed than anything.”
“So he’s really gone?”
“Yep. He’s really a harmless sort. He just thought he could make some eas
y money. You cured him of that.” Chance stood up and pulled her to her feet. He searched the ground until he found his hat. He slapped the dust off against his thigh, then settled the Stetson on his head. Reaching down again, he picked up the discarded blanket. With tenderness in his every touch, he wrapped it around her. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders. “What do you want me to do now?”
Kiss me? Touch me? Make love to me? How about marry me instead of Fanny Fairfax?
Believe in me?
Trixianna wanted to shout at him to do all those things, but she knew it was wrong to even want them, much less ask it of him. He’d made a promise to Fanny, and being an honorable man, he would keep it. She stared into his gentle, caring eyes, wanting him to believe in her more than anything she could imagine. “Do you think I’m Trixianna Lawless now?”
He shook his head, a perplexed frown drawing his brows together. “I’m not sure what I think. I’m as confused as Sam Smith right about now, but even knowing it’s against the law, I’d be willing to let you go if that’s what you want.”
“You would? But why?”
He grimaced, his eyes narrowed with obvious frustration. “Because I care too much about you to turn you over to the sheriff from Dena Valley and let him throw you in jail.” He shook his head again. “You don’t belong there.”
“But you still don’t believe me?”
He took her hand. “I have to know the truth about Mad Maggie. And I know you’re keeping secrets. Whether they’re against the law or not, I can’t say.”
“I’m not a criminal,” she insisted. She felt as if she could die inside. What they had just shared was special, wasn’t it? How could he dismiss it so easily? “I have told you as much.”
He nodded. “And I want to believe you. But my judgment is clouded. Besides everything else that’s gone wrong, I want you…badly, and that’s not right.” His misery etched in each word, he continued, “Not when I’m engaged to marry another woman.”
He wanted her! Chance wanted her, but he was too much of a gentleman to act on his feelings or renege on his agreement with Fanny. She couldn’t help but respect him for that even when it broke her heart into tiny pieces. “Then I suppose I have to go. I have to leave Grand Fork.”