Prologue Page 24

  They lay limp and sated in their warm bed, their heavy limbs entwined. Travis rolled them over so they lay on their sides, facing each other. He felt baptized in her love, as all his pent-up rage and disgrace and hurt were washed away with the union of their bodies and souls. He kissed the point of her jaw and ran a fingertip around her nipple, watching it harden in response.

  "I sure am glad you're too old for passion," he teased lazily. "If you were any wilder, you'd probably kill me."

  She nipped his nose, self-conscious about her abandon. "Are you complaining?"

  "Mmm, not me," he replied, his lips behind her ear. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

  She went on thoughtfully. "I guess it was a pretty silly idea. That I'm old, I mean. I had no idea it would be like this. I just didn't know. I'm glad I was wrong about it." She nuzzled her face against his neck again and put her hand to his jaw. "But it could be like this only with you, Travis. Just you."

  The last word was muffled by his mouth coming down on hers. He was part of her and she, part of him. Bound by more than any earthly consideration of mutual convenience or tolerability, they were bound by the heart.

  Their coming together was lingering and tender the second time, while they smoothed wondering hands over each other's body to explore and relish and worship.

  Chloe felt his sharp hipbones and the long bone and muscle in his legs. Travis dropped kisses into the curve of her waist and on the swell of her hip.

  Soft, rounded flesh, smooth and firm. She was so beautiful.

  Sinew and cord and strength. He was beautifully handsome.

  Travis joined his body to hers with long, slow strokes and when they reached their climax, it was as soft and passionate as their lovers' whispers in the darkness.

  Travis wrapped them more securely in the warm blankets, then reached for her hand, sandwiching it between his chest and fingers. She felt the slow, steady rhythm of his heart under her palm. There was nowhere else on earth she belonged but with this man.

  He pulled her closer to him, savoring the joy of her body against his, her hair falling over him in a silky drape, her breath fanning his collarbone. He fought the perfect sleep he knew to be waiting for him, worried that this might be the night Jace chose to ambush him. And now Travis had Chloe to protect as well, but he was glad she was with him, soft and warm.

  He murmured, drowsy-voiced, "If the world ended tonight and I died here in your arms, it would be okay. I have everything now."

  "Oh, Travis," Chloe choked, but already, his breathing was deep and smooth, and she knew he slept. She nestled more tightly to him, protectively, hoping he wouldn't feel her tears as they dropped on his shoulder.

  * * *

  "Chloe—honey, wake up."

  Stop it, she told herself. There were lots of nights when she thought she heard Travis calling her. Or dreamed that he lay next to her, his long legs entwined with hers, his hand on her breast. To wake and find it was only her imagination was bitter disappointment.

  "Come on, honey. It's getting late."

  She rolled over, trying to shut out the sound. But when she felt his warm lips at her temple, his hand stroking her hip through the blanket, they were too real to ignore. Lifting heavy lids, she saw Travis next to her on one knee, already dressed. This was a more elemental Travis than the one who'd made horseshoes in the shop and danced with her on the porch. The edge of danger she'd always felt in him was far more apparent now. His gun belt was strapped to his waist with its holster tied to his thigh. His long dark hair accentuated the silver tint of his eyes. Though she was comforted by this strength, she realized that an enemy would have much to fear from him.

  The gray-blue daybreak lay just beyond the open tent flap. She smelled fresh coffee steaming in the tin cup he held.

  "It wasn't a dream. You're really here," she said, looking up at him in the low light. Relief coursed through her, pulling her from sleep. She put her hand on his booted foot. "Oh, Travis, I'm so glad."

  For a suspended second, he looked at her with such wistful, unguarded devotion, the emotional intensity nearly took her breath. He reached out and smoothed her hair back from her forehead before leaning over to put a soft kiss on it.

  "No more dreams, Chloe. From now on, it's all real. But if we're going to leave, you have to get up. Jace will be up here this morning." He said this as certainly as if they had an appointment to meet.

  She sat up stiffly, not used to sleeping on the ground. She tucked the blanket under her arms but she shuddered when the cold morning air touched her naked shoulders and back. "Brrr, I'm freezing."

  It took all his willpower to resist sliding his hands under the blanket to touch the ripe curves hidden there. She looked small and delicate in the tangle of covers, her features still sleep-soft. Her tousled hair fell around her in long burnished waves and as she looked up at him, she made him feel like he owned the world.

  Travis draped her wool shirt around her, then with one finger traced a path across her bare skin at the point where the blanket covered her breasts.

  "God, but you're beautiful," he intoned.

  "I am?" She'd heard him say so before but it was while they were making love. She'd assumed it was something he was supposed to tell her. It surprised her to hear it now, especially when she was rumpled and uncombed.

  "Don't you know that?" He shook his head then. "No, I guess you don't. There was no one to tell you and you never would have thought so yourself."

  She offered him a shy smile. "No, but it's very nice to hear you say it."

  Brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers, he handed her the cup. "Here, drink some of this." He cocked an eyebrow at her, his tender expression dissolving into a wicked smile. "I don't have time to warm you up, so you'd better get dressed.

  He went outside where he was loading the pack horse. She sipped at the coffee. It was too hot to really drink it. She scurried into her clothes, then groped through the bedding on all fours, searching for her boots. Last night their need to touch each other, to express their love had been so urgent, they'd flung garments everywhere.

  She paused a moment and sat back on her knees, looking forward to a thousand nights and more like that to come, a lifetime's worth of fire and passion, tenderness and contentment. When she thought of how close they'd come to losing it all, her heart clenched in her chest. She shook herself out of the reverie and put on her shoes, then quickly rebraided her hair. This was no time to daydream. They weren't out of the woods yet. She emerged from the tent, bringing the blankets and sheepskins with her, and Travis immediately began dismantling the shelter. He'd already saddled Lester for her and the horse stood waiting patiently, nibbling at the dry brush.

  She looked around the stark, barren camp. Funny, but daylight made it even more isolated and lonely than darkness. A big water ditch that Travis had dug lay to the immediate west of the campsite. Beyond that and the sluice boxes he'd built, there was nothing—no trees, no birds, no greenery. There was nothing but dirt, rocks, and the faint rushing of water in the El Diablo behind them. To be up here for months or years on end with no one to talk to, why, a person would lose his mind. No wonder Tarpaper Bolen was a bit odd.

  "Don't stop to fold that stuff," Travis said, indicating the blankets she carried. He pulled out the tent stakes. "Go back to town. Only pack what you think you need now. We can buy you other things later."

  He dropped the canvas and walked toward her. The early sun glinted on his hair and lashes, bronzing their dark brown edges. Hard work had ripped the knees out of his jeans and his boots were scarred and dusty. His chambray shirt was missing a button. But she was positive there was no man more handsome than Travis McGuire. Again she marveled at his lean, natural grace—loose hipped and limber when he moved. In the better light, she could see how much more rested he looked.

  Travis took her hands and raised them to his mouth, pressing a kiss on each while he watched those big green eyes. He tried to tell himself one last time that maybe he was
a fool to risk everything—his heart, his future and freedom—on a woman. But he knew it was a lie. She was not simply "a woman." She was Chloe Maitland, his life-partner. She'd pulled him back from the edge of despair and she was worth more than he could risk.

  "I wish you'd let me take you back to town," he said, feeling like the lowest chicken-hearted skunk he'd ever known. "But I really wish you weren't going at all. Isn't there anything I can do to talk you out of this?"

  They'd been over this a half-dozen times late last night. They'd awakened and begun planning their future, making a picnic of the fried chicken and bread she'd brought along. He didn't want her going down there, alone, especially with Jace so close. But Chloe was adamant and she refused to let him risk himself to go with her. Despite his calm-voiced reasoning, he'd been unable to dissuade her. At one point he'd lost his patience and called her the most pigheaded, thick-skulled female he'd ever known. Then he'd felt bad for his hard words and made slow, sweet love to her, whispering over her body how sorry he was.

  Chloe knew it was impossible for him to go with her. Jace Rankin would spot him for sure. But as certain as she was that going away with Travis was the only thing to do, she couldn't leave her home without seeing it once more. Chloe shook her head.

  "No, Travis. I need warmer clothes." She looked down at the tops of her shoes, then back up into his eyes. "And—and I want to see the house once more. I—we worked hard to save it. I can leave it without looking back, but I'd like to see it one more time. You know . . . "

  Travis nodded, trying to understand, but he really had no experience to draw on. None of his ties went so deep or so far back. The longest he ever lived in one place was in prison. Her life had been so different from his. Did she really know what she was doing by going with him? He pulled her into a fierce hug.

  "All right. But go fast. Don't dawdle and try not to let anyone see you." He looked out at the brightening horizon. "It's already later than I'd like." He shifted her to one arm and turned her toward the plains below. They stretched out beyond the reach of their vision. He pointed to a ragged collection of tiny buildings on the flat prairie. "There's Misfortune. See that roof on the west end?"

  She peered in the direction he indicated, trying to separate one building from another. They were all so far away and weathered, they blended into their surroundings. Finally, she was able to distinguish the roof she was supposed to see. She nodded.

  "That's your house. I used to sit here and watch it sometimes while you were doing the wash."

  She stared with more interest. "My house? You can't tell me you were able to see me," she asserted. There were so many amazing things about him, she half expected him to say he could.

  "No, but I'd imagine what you were doing as you went through your day." He shook his head, looking at the packed earth at their feet. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, no matter how I tried. I made myself crazy from thinking, and I was burning mad with both of us for it."

  She nodded. "It was so—so silent after you were gone." She glanced up at his handsome face and put her hand to his cheek. "I thought I'd never see you again. I felt like I was dead inside."

  He walked her over to her horse. Chloe put her foot in the stirrup and swung herself into the saddle while Travis held the reins.

  "I truly don't believe Jace will bother you. But it'll be better if he doesn't see you, so be careful." The breeze stirred his hair. He put his hand on her knee.

  "I'll hurry," she replied, leaning down to give him a quick kiss. But as soon as their lips met, he let his hand slide along her leg to her ankle and took her foot out of the stirrup. Then he stepped into it to pull himself up to her. Lester stood rock-steady while they closed desperate arms around each other. All the torment and worry and peril they'd both known went into the kiss they shared.

  Then he put his hands on either side of her face to tip her forehead to his mouth to put a kiss there, and pressed another to her chin and each cheek. "So the angels will watch out for you," he said, invoking Fiona McGuire's blessing. He jumped down, feeling helpless to do anything more.

  "I'll be back in two hours. I promise," she said, urging Lester forward. She forced herself to smile brightly as she waved goodbye, and made a vow that this was the last time they'd have to separate.

  * * *

  After Lester picked her way down to the prairie floor, Chloe pressed the horse into a trot to hurry her along. Now and then she'd glance back over her shoulder at the yellow hills she was leaving. She actually felt less danger from Jace Rankin than pain of separation from Travis. It had been only a half hour since they parted and already she missed him. How had she lived through the last few weeks? The truth was, she hadn't.

  She'd struggled to regain the familiar pattern of her life, and had convinced herself that she'd succeeded by gritty determination. But it was a lie. She'd only gone through the motions, dull-eyed and brokenhearted.

  Chloe rocked along with Lester's steady gait, her thoughts drifting. Travis had said life wouldn't be easy for a while. No, it probably wouldn't be. It would be wonderful if they could carry on with the life they'd started over roast beef sandwiches on hot, hushed noons. With love and commitment woven through their days to strengthen them. With no threatening shadows lurking on the horizon. But she'd rather live in his tent for the next ten years than go back to the lonely emptiness she knew before he came to Misfortune. And to live without him was unthinkable now.

  Up ahead she saw the rundown buildings and overgrown graveyard that marked Misfortune. "Come on, girl," Chloe said, urging Lester into a trot. "Travis is waiting for us."

  * * *

  After Travis packed the rest of his gear he sat down, cross-legged, to wait for Chloe at the point on the hillside that overlooked Misfortune. His muscles were tight with the watchfulness that never left him. Now and then he'd glance up to check the sun's relentless progress as it climbed the sky, then back to the flat plain between Misfortune and himself.

  Watching for Chloe.

  Watching out for Jace.

  Almost three hours had passed since Chloe left. She should have been back by now. Behind him, the loaded horses pawed the ground restively. He turned to look at them, running his hand through his long hair.

  Travis got to his feet and began pacing near the edge of the hill, his arms alternately crossed over his chest and clasped behind his back.

  He'd seen a kind of yearning in Chloe's eyes when she left, as though she wanted to take a long look in case she never saw him again.

  Doubts crept in to plague him. What if she'd changed her mind? The prospect made his stomach feel like it had dropped to his feet. Her life hadn't been easy, but it had been more secure than what he was offering her. Maybe she decided she'd be losing too much by going away with him.

  Women, damn them, were always changing their minds, he seethed. How many times did he need to have that demonstrated to him? He picked up a handful of stones and began pitching them straight out over the hillside with brutal force, his arm stiff and locked. Maybe that story about loving him was just that, a story.

  No! His imagination was running like a wild horse. No, she couldn't have deceived him so easily. Not Chloe, she wasn't a schemer. He glanced at the rocks clenched in his fist and slowly dropped them, dusting his hands on the seat of his jeans. The woman who lay beneath him deep into the night had surrendered herself completely, unselfishly. He knew there was no mistaking it. Miserable guilt over his suspicions welled up in him.

  Then where was she? Why was she taking so long? She knew Jace was coming—

  He looked up sharply. Jace! Sweat popped out on his forehead and scalp. He hadn't expected it, but yes, it was possible. Jace might have her, using her to force him out into the open. All because he believed Travis had killed his sister. Even his years in prison wouldn't satisfy Jace.

  Through his mind flashed a familiar memory so bitter it had once threatened to poison his soul. Of years spent in a small dark cell, of endless rainy nights punctu
ated with dark dreams, of a raw wound on his ankle that never got the chance to heal.

  But this time the images faded before those of a tall, slender woman with red-gold hair and green eyes, who smelled like sunshine and in every possible way made him feel like a man.

  Travis took another look at the open vastness before him and at his horse behind him. All right, by God! He strode to the animal and untied his reins. If Jace wanted him, he'd get him. But he couldn't have Chloe.

  * * *

  Travis rode up to Chloe's back fence, avoiding the main road into town. He dismounted and smoothed his hand over the horse's nose to calm him. Then drawing his big Colt revolver, he moved quietly and swiftly down the line of pickets, watching the house and the shop. In the corner of the yard where the maple tree stood, he hopped the fence and circled the edge of the property. Chloe's horse waited in the dooryard, her reins casually thrown over a bush. He crept to the kitchen garden next to the back porch where he crouched beside the steps, his shoulder pressed to the wall, his head down, listening, listening. For voices, for the squeak of a floorboard, for the sound of a gun hammer being cocked. There was nothing but the wind blowing over the grass and his own breathing.

  Looking up the stairs he saw the door was open, the screen unhooked as it swung lazily on a vagrant northerly draft. Fear for Chloe pumped through him. He hadn't seen Jace for five years and didn't know what kind of man he was now. The man who'd been his friend wouldn't have stooped to use a woman to bait a trap. But time and circumstances could change a person. God knew, he'd felt the change in himself.

  Damn it, why hadn't he come here with her? Better yet, he should have refused to let her return at all. He could have bought other clothes for her. Automatically Travis checked the rounds in the

  Colt, then made his way up the stairs, careful to stay on the far edges to keep their creaking to a minimum. He slipped into the kitchen when the screen door swung wide again, holding the revolver at chest level in front of him. From the kitchen he went through the dining room, finding no trace of Chloe and nothing unusual. He halted in the parlor, his throat suddenly dry.