his intention, the knife raised to the rope securing her to the wood beam above her head.
When her arms fell free she stumbled forward into him. “Whoa, I’ve got you.” He wrapped an arm around her small waist, his fingers noting each fragile bone as his hand rested along her rib cage, and a shard of anger tore through him. Campbell had done a piss-poor job of taking care of her. It was clear that she hadn’t had a decent meal in months. He could break her in two if he wasn’t careful. He gentled his hold as he half bent to sheathe his knife. She was trembling, but probably more from muscle fatigue than fear, or at least that’s what he wanted to believe.
Before he could suppress it, a wave of tenderness for her moved through him. She must lead a very lonely life with Campbell gone for months at a time. The thought brought back unwelcome memories of his own childhood. With his mother living so far away in Boston and his father working all hours of the day and night, he’d known what it meant to be lonely. His hands tightened on her waist as he straightened.
Nostrils flaring, he took in her scent, a faint undercurrent of wildflowers. The silken waves of her dark hair brushed against his knuckles, giving him the urge to tangle his fingers in it and pull her head back to taste her. He closed his eyes as he stifled the notion. She was his captive, not his woman. That line could not get blurred. What in hell was wrong with him?
Slipping a fingertip underneath the rope that still held her wrists tied together in front of her, he made sure that it was loose enough that it wouldn’t hinder circulation while still keeping her somewhat restrained. His palms settled on her hips, helping her to find her footing before moving on to her arms, stroking up and down her forearms in a massage to help get her blood flowing again.
“Thank you,” she murmured a few moments later, her voice slightly hoarse.
He stifled a twinge of guilt that she would thank him for cutting her loose, as the soft catch in her voice brought his eyes to hers. He saw reflected there the same awareness that thrummed through his body, that attraction that refused to be cowed whether it was appropriate or not. Like lightning drawn to iron, his gaze moved down to her small mouth and lush, red lips that made his breath quicken. As if readying themselves for him, they parted and it was all he could do not to take them.
But he wasn’t that man. He didn’t need to take advantage of a woman who was at his mercy.
Annoyed at his own response to her, he demanded in a low voice, “The farm. Where is it?”
* * *
Caught in their dangerous spell, it took her a few seconds to realize what he had said. He was so close that his scent enveloped her. Leather, the subtle salt of perspiration, the spice of some long-ago applied aftershave—none of which were overpowering, but combined in a heady blend that was pure male and unexpectedly appealing. It was more than his scent and his handsome-as-sin looks that intrigued her. Though he was an outlaw and danger poured off him, she recognized gentleness beneath the harsh exterior. He’d not been rough with her at all, when any one of Ship’s men would have gloried in their power had they been in his position. And, though at first she hadn’t been sure of his intention, she knew he wouldn’t force himself on her.
A grudging respect for him had grown within her. True, she was his captive, though she didn’t really think that was a situation he had wanted. But she also knew that he was an outlaw, probably wanted from here to Texas, and she couldn’t forget that. And despite the fact that he had checked the bindings on her wrists to make sure they weren’t too tight, he had put them there.
Buying some time to get her thoughts in order, she pulled away from him and rubbed her hands together. “I’m cold.” It was true, but she said it more to stall because she had no idea what she planned to tell him about the farm.
His nostrils flared slightly as he took a deep breath and moved away, walking backward the few steps it took him to reach his saddlebags. When he stood back up, holding the winter dress that she was sure had been lost back when they’d taken her, she found herself smiling for the first time since she’d left the saloon. The brown wool was a welcome sight. It wasn’t the prettiest dress in her paltry wardrobe, but it was warmer than the dance-hall costume and much less revealing. “Here.” She automatically held up her wrists so that he could cut the rope free.
Except he didn’t move but to raise a brow at her.
“Well, how else am I to get that on?” she challenged and reached for the dress, but missed because he raised the wad of fabric higher.
“I’ll help.” The lazy, teasing smile had returned to his mouth now that the fire had been banked...slightly.
“Thank you, but, no.” Holding her hands out for him again, she nodded to the knife sheathed to his boot. “Just untie me. You can tie me back up after I’m done, if you think I’m such a threat to you. Please,” she added at the end when he just stared back at her.
Faster than she had imagined possible, even having seen him grab it before, he smoothly reached for the knife and stood with it in his fist. Slowly, not quite so certain now that he held the weapon, she offered him her wrists and he held them tight with his left hand, stuffing the dress beneath his arm, as he sawed at the rope with his right. The rope loosened and partly fell away, aided by her when she was finally able to get a hand loose. She threw the rope into the fire before he could stop her, but she needn’t have worried because he only smirked at her as he handed over the dress. “Change.”
“Turn around.”
The smirk didn’t leave his face as he half turned, facing the door and giving her his shoulder.
“All the way around.”
He only gave her a shake of his head and kept his eyes on the door. “You haven’t earned my trust yet, sweetheart. This will have to do.” Then he gave her a glance and a wink. “Unless you’ve reconsidered my help.”
When she only glared at him and began unbuttoning her costume, he gave a low laugh and looked back toward the door. Turning her back to him, she did her best to shield herself from him in case he dared to look back over at her. It wasn’t difficult, she left her drawers and camisole on while quickly stepping out of the costume and shimmying into her dress. She made quick work of the buttons up the front and turned back to him just as he turned to her, making her wonder if he’d been peeking. He wasn’t smirking anymore though. In fact, his brows were narrowed over his eyes, bringing to mind the fierce outlaw she’d seen walking into her saloon.
“The farm.”
Just like that, she missed him smirking and a little playful. She hadn’t realized he’d backed her across the tiny space until her spine touched the wall and she let out a little sound of surprise. Eyes wide, she took in the breadth of him as he loomed above her. Her heart pumped hard in her chest as he crowded her even more until her entire body was flush with the wall. His greenish eyes had darkened, with the fire at his back, making him appear almost otherworldly for one brief moment.
“You don’t scare me.” It was a brazen lie and they both knew it. Though she didn’t think he would physically hurt her, this man wielded too much power over her present and future, and inexplicably too much power over her body.
“Really? That’s interesting.” His hand came up out of the darkness, and she watched as his long, tapered fingers came toward her to reach for her locket. She grabbed his wrist before he reached it, but she couldn’t get his hand away no matter how hard she pushed. Before she realized it, he’d grabbed both of her wrists in one hand and pressed them flat to the wall above her head. All she could do then
