sides to jolt the big black into action. One hand holding the reins, he wrapped his free arm around her middle and held her snugly against him. They rode out in the opposite direction of the way they’d come. He wasn’t sure of their exact destination at this point. All he wanted was to put as many miles as possible between them and that cabin.
He felt her trembling. In response, he tightened his hold.
He despised what he’d had to do back there. He’d given his word that he wouldn’t hurt her, and look what he’d done. No doubt she believed what he’d said to the others and was scared out of her mind.
As soon as he felt confident that no one was following them, he’d stop and explain everything.
Juliana couldn’t stop shaking. The stark terror flowing through her body rendered her weak and limp. She had no power to fight her fate.
Her captor held her in a steel grip, as if afraid she’d jump from the horse’s back.
She resolutely focused on the movement of the horse’s muscles beneath her, the heavy night air rushing past her face, the sense of light and darkness as they moved between shadows and moonlight. She refused to let herself wonder where he was taking her.
He’d promised not to hurt her. Why had she thought for an instant that she could trust him to keep his word? He was a criminal, for goodness’ sake. How naïve could she be?
He’d seemed to want to keep her out of harm’s way, though. He’d hinted at the cruelty of the men he associated with and had warned her not to try and escape. Had that just been a sly ploy to get her to trust him? Maybe he’d wanted to keep her all to himself, so that after they dropped off the money he could sneak off and do whatever he wanted with her.
Her stomach clenched into a hard, tight ball. She wondered how she would survive the coming hours.
The entire right side of her face ached where Fitzgerald had hit her. The blow had been unexpected—she’d had no time to brace herself or move away. The pain was excruciating.
When he slowed the horse to a walk, she stiffened her back and tried to hold herself away from him. He didn’t seem to notice. Pulling his arm away, he slid off the horse and tied the reins to a low-slung tree branch. Then he was standing there with one hand on the saddle horn, waiting for her to dismount.
“Please,” she pleaded, unable to look at him, “don’t do this.” She was not above begging.
“Come here,” he said in a voice as smooth as velvet.
“I can’t.” She stared straight ahead, refusing to go willingly.
He moved closer, his chest pressing against her thigh. “Look at me.”
Angling her head down, she obeyed, fearing that if she didn’t he’d yank her out of the saddle. Standing in a patch of moonlight, his face was clearly visible except his eyes.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve never in my life laid a hand on a female, and I don’t aim to start with you.” He spoke each word slowly and distinctly, as if addressing a small child. “Please get down. We need to talk.”
Juliana hesitated. She’d always thought of herself as a good judge of character. Now she wasn’t so sure. His manner was straightforward enough. But he’d handled her roughly and had insinuated vulgar things in front of the other men.
“I know I scared you back there.” He grimaced, his white teeth glinting in the pale light. “Please believe me—it was all for show. I had to convince them that I meant business. I didn’t want to take the chance of one of them challenging my claim on you.”
“Your claim?”
“I’m the new guy. They don’t know me, and they don’t trust me. They have seniority. If any one of those men had decided he wanted you, Roberts would’ve sided against me. I would’ve had no say in the matter.” He watched her for a moment, then dropped his hand and stepped back. He held his palms up in front of his chest. “If I promise not to touch you and not to come within three feet of you, will you come down?”
He certainly seemed to be telling the truth. If not, he was an accomplished actor. There was the other matter of his weapon. He didn’t have to waste his breath being polite. He could’ve pulled his gun on her and ordered her down.
Juliana dismounted. When her feet hit the ground, her knees buckled. He moved to steady her, only to freeze midstep when he remembered his promise. She sagged against the horse’s side for support. To his credit, the large animal didn’t sidestep or flinch, just swished his tail at her.
Harrison passed a weary hand down his face, drawing in a deep breath. “Can I at least help you sit down?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Straightening, she managed to walk, albeit unsteadily, to what looked like a good spot before sinking to her knees. She didn’t take her eyes off him as he kneeled in the grass opposite her, his forearm resting across one bent knee.
She clasped her hands and remained silent, her eyes lowered to her lap. Her heartbeat was beginning to settle into a more natural rhythm. Surely if he intended to hurt her, he would’ve done so by now.
“This is going to sound dumb, but how is your face? I can’t see it—that’s why I’m asking.”
Her first instinct was to examine the area with her fingers, but she was afraid to touch it. “I don’t think my jaw is dislocated, though it hurts when I talk.”
“And the pain? Is it bearable? Unfortunately, I don’t travel with whiskey, but I can make a poultice in the morning that will draw out some of the sting.”
At this point, the pain was so great that Juliana would’ve gladly accepted whiskey if he’d had any. Her cheek throbbed in time with her heartbeat, and each time she opened her mouth to speak, it felt as if she was being punched all over again.
He spoke before she had a chance to respond. “It’s that bad, huh?” He dropped his head. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Then he looked at her. “I’m sorry. If I’d known—” He broke off midsentence, standing to his feet in one fluid motion. He began to pace.
“What happened with Fitzgerald? Why did he hit you?”
“You mean, what did I do to provoke him? You think I deserved this, don’t you?”
Juliana gasped when he dropped to his knees before her. “Never.” He raised his hand as if to touch her. Instead, he let it drop back to his lap. “You are not to blame for what happened.”
Staring at the man before her, she struggled to reconcile his gentle concern with the harsh intensity he’d displayed earlier in the day. Her mind flashed back to the moments before the other outlaws tumbled out of the cabin, and she remembered his reassuring words, his tender touch. Who was he, really?
“Art and I were talking,” she said softly. “Fitzgerald didn’t like it.”
His jaw hardened, his hand curling into a tight fist. “He tends to lose his temper on a whim.”
“Actually, I lost my temper first.”
“What?”
