thought Gideon, traveled fast. Good. “I’m looking for my first wife. The one who walked out on me.” He narrowed his gaze on the whore’s curious face. “With Dwight Samuel. You know him?”
Her expression seemed to melt. Only two bright dabs of rouge remained to color her suddenly pallid face. Her red mouth opened, hung slack for a moment, then snapped closed.
Gideon sipped his drink. That was answer enough for him, he thought. “Dwight get to Cerrillos often, does he?”
She eased her hand from his shirt and took a small step back. “I don’t know nothin’. I don’t want to know nothin’.”
He caught her wrist in an iron grip. “Tell him I’m looking for him.” His lips sliced into a grin. “Do that for me, sugar, will you? Tell my cousin I’m looking to join up with him again.”
Chapter Three
Honey woke slowly. Like a lazy fish, a languid swimmer rising to the surface of warm, dark water. At first she thought she was back at school in St. Louis, but then she remembered her long train ride back to New Mexico. This wasn’t her room, though. She wasn’t home. Where in the world...? Then her mind broke through the murky barriers to reality.
“Oh, Lord!” She moved to sit up, but steel clinked on iron, and the metal cuff bit into her wrist. “Hell and damnation,” she muttered.
Unable to sit up, she lay there, taking bleak inventory of her situation. The last thing she remembered was staring ahead at the rough, moonlit contours of the hills, trying to ignore the dull ache in her bladder, trying desperately to stay awake. Obviously, she thought now, she hadn’t. The ache was gone, and she shuddered to even think about that. She shuddered, too, at the feel of the scratchy linens against her skin.
Gideon Summerfield had left her—naked as a jaybird—cuffed to the bedpost. The idea of that desperado taking off her clothes was enough to set her blood boiling, but even worse at the moment was the thought that he had escaped with the bank’s money.
Lifting her head, Honey searched the moonlit room, then breathed a small sigh of relief when she saw the canvas sack leaning against the washstand. Thank heavens. If the money was still here, she still had a fighting chance to get it back for the bank. But her sense of relief was fleeting. If the money was still here, then so was Gideon Summerfield. And she was hooked to the bed like a fish on a line. A naked fish at that.
Jerking on the steel cuff did nothing but hurt her already bruised wrist. With her free hand, Honey tossed the covers off, then clambered up on her knees. If that damn bandit had opened his half of the cuffs, then surely there was a way...
A key scraped and turned in the lock on the door. Honey dived beneath the covers just as light from the hall wedged into the room. She held her breath while the door clicked closed and the bolt shot home.
Her wildly pounding heart was crowding the breath from her lungs now. She made a fist of her free hand beneath the covers. If he so much as touched her, she thought, she’d claw his eyes out. She’d rip his flesh with her teeth. She’d...
The sound of water splashing into the washbasin sidetracked her panicky thoughts. Then came the soft rustle of fabric, followed by more splashing. Honey opened one eye and peeked over the covers.
The moon seemed to sculpt his broad, wet shoulders and cast in dark pewter the cords of his neck. Silvered water streaked down his ropy arms. He shook his head, sending quick beads of diamond water into the air. As he started to turn, Honey caught a glimpse of the hard-carved muscles on his chest before she squeezed her eyes closed again. She didn’t dare let him know she was awake. No telling what he might do. Worse, she’d die of shame if he knew she’d been watching him with such outright curiosity.
She swallowed, then gritted her teeth, hoping he hadn’t heard the dry contraction of her throat, which had sounded loud as a thunderclap to her.
She heard the clink of his belt buckle, the pull of leather against cloth, and the dull thud of his heavy holster settling against the bedpost. The mattress dipped under his weight then, and Honey held her breath. She lay so still she could feel her heart crashing against her ribs.
Gideon exhaled wearily as he pulled off his boots and let them drop on the floor. The sponge bath hadn’t done much to clean up his mood, but it beat being hosed off with icy water once a week. He hated being dirty almost as much as he hated being locked in a cage. What he wanted, he thought, was a hot bath in a big copper tub where he could sink to his chin, breathe in the rising steam, close his eyes and let every muscle and nerve relax.
A bed was the next best thing. Although sharing it with the little bank teller wasn’t his idea of the perfect way to relax. Maybe he should have spent an hour or two with one of the girls downstairs, he thought now, just to take the edge off. But it hadn’t seemed worth it at the time. Their dull eyes dispelled the promises of their warm hands.
Anyway, right now sleep was nearly as compelling as loving. Good God, he was tired. Sighing roughly, he eased back on the mattress and closed his eyes.
“Don’t you come one inch closer or I’ll scream. I swear I will.”
Eyes still closed, Gideon grinned. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“Just try it and see.”
He levered up on one elbow, gazing down at her stubborn little mouth, the moonfire burning in her eyes. “Is that an invitation, Miss Cassidy?”
Her eyes widened fearfully, but her voice stayed level and brave. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“You’re right,” he growled as he lowered himself back onto the mattress. “Go to sleep, bright eyes. You’re safe.”
Honey rattled the chain hooked to the iron bedstead. “You don’t expect me to sleep like this, do you?” she hissed.
“Hush.”
She rattled the chain once more, and kept up the racket until Gideon rose with a muted curse. Five years in prison had made him remember only the fair part of the fair sex; he’d clean forgotten how irritating they could be without half trying. And this one was trying. He retrieved the quill pick from his shirt pocket, jimmied the lock, then clamped the steel bracelet over his left wrist and clicked it closed. “Happy now?”
“Thrilled,” she muttered.
“Good.” Gideon dug his shoulders deep into the mattress. “Close your eyes, Ed. It’ll be morning all too soon.”
She was quiet a moment, listening to the cadence of his breathing. “What are you planning to do?”
“Sleep.”
“I mean tomorrow.” She raised both hands in a gesture of frustration, tugging his arm up along with hers.
Gideon wrenched back his hand. “I’m planning to be dead on my feet tomorrow if I don’t get ten minutes of shut-eye. Now hush.”
Honey was quiet another moment, until she couldn’t keep still or stand the suspense any longer. “Where are my clothes?”
His silence was nearly palpable, like the quiet before a storm, like fire working its way along a fuse. Honey
