Sam’s Creed (4 page)

He turned and headed back to the fire, obviously favoring his injured leg. “No one’s arguing with you, Bella.”

He didn’t need to be so agreeable when she wanted to fight. She followed more slowly, her conscience nagging her. The alcohol must still burn. The truth popped out as it always did when she felt guilty. “Maybe I am arguing with myself.”

Sam sat back on the rock and pulled one of the sticks off the fire. A piece of the fillet fell off. In a move almost too fast for her to see, he caught it, tossing it in his hand to cool it. Shadows jumped on the wall in wild accompaniment. Her heart jumped with the same silly excitement as he cocked an eyebrow at her. “Now, why would you do that?”

She owed him for the manner in which she’d cleaned his wound. “Because I think it is wrong to enjoy stolen kisses.”

His expression closed up. “Very likely.”

She’d chosen honesty as a penance, but she had no idea it would be so hard to see it through. It would be easier to let him continue to think what he obviously was—that she was talking about him—but that wouldn’t be fair. Her cheeks burning hotter than the heat coming off the fire, she whispered, “But I enjoyed yours.”

He dropped the fish into the fire. It was the only sign her words had thrown him.

“Why?”

There was a limit to how far she would atone, and he had reached it.

“I do not know why.” She glared at him. “You are a very provoking man. By rights I should shoot you.”

He fished dinner out of the fire. “The man who saved your life?”

She sat down on the rock a couple feet away. “That would make me ungrateful.”

He handed her the other fillet. The one not covered in ash. The consideration made her feel even more guilty. “But?”

He was an astute man to hear the
but
in her voice. “You are aggravating.”

“Because I won’t stitch a crease?”

That and other things, but since the other things were nameless worries in her mind, she settled for a simple “Yes.”

He took a bite of his fish. She tore off a piece of hers. It was a little big, but she was in a cave, in the wilderness eating off a stick. Surely manners could be flexible?

He waited until she had the too-big piece in her mouth before saying, “If you think that’s aggravating, I sure don’t want to see what you’re going to make of the fact we’ll be sharing a bedroll.”

S
haring a bedroll with Sam had not been the exciting thing the forbidden should be. Here it was the next day and she was as much an untouched virgin as she had been lying down the night before. Darn it. She had not wanted him to rape her, but she would have liked to have a little tale about the night she’d slept with the infamous Sam MacGregor. Something more than that he’d rolled up a horse blanket into a bundle, set it between them like a bolster, rolled on his back and ordered her in a gruff voice to go to sleep. That was not what she expected from a man with his reputation.

Which just went to show how inflated legend could make a man’s reputation. Even in her little town of Montoya they had heard of Hell’s Eight and Wild Card MacGregor—a man so cold he could supposedly seduce or kill with a smile. She completely understood the former, and had witnessed the latter, which left only the question of why he had not seduced her. Was she so unappealing to him? The question nagged at her just as thoroughly as the leather of the saddle nagged at the insides of her thighs through her worn, fine lawn bloomers. This land could be very hard on the finer things.

She braced her hands on the pommel of the saddle and pushed up. The brief relief to her rear was welcome. Ahead of her, Sam rode easily, sitting in the saddle as if he was an extension of the horse. None of the weariness dragging at her showed in his posture. The setting sun behind them reflected off the silver conchos rimming his black hat. She glanced over her shoulder. The sunset was gorgeous. Even more gorgeous was the silhouette of another town backlit by the pink-and-orange glow. She bet there was a hotel in that town, and a soft mattress. She scanned the rickety outline of the buildings. Well, maybe not soft, but less hard than the saddle.

“No sense hankering about what’s not going to be,” Sam called back.

How had he known what she was thinking? She lowered her rear gingerly to the saddle. “I was just admiring the sunset.”

“I thought you were pining on the luxuries of town.”

It annoyed her that he did not even bother to look at her as he talked, just presumed to know what she was thinking. Even if he was right. “I do not see what would have pained to stop for one night. You defeated Tejala’s men.”

“Hurt for one night.”

“¿Qué?”

“The phrase is ‘What would it hurt.’”

“Hurt, pain.” She dismissed his correction with a wave of her hand as she gently urged Sweet Pea to catch up. She might have succeeded, except the packhorse they’d taken after the battle yesterday put up a protest. Sweet Pea jerked back. A nip from Kell’s teeth soon changed the packhorse’s mind. Sweet Pea picked up his pace until his nose drew even with Breeze’s flank. “None of it is good.”

“You’ve got a point.”

“So why could we not stay in town?”

“I’m a cautious man.”

“Not that I have heard.”

He shifted in the saddle, enough so she got a glimpse of his profile. It was as uncompromisingly handsome as the rest of his face, and just as compelling. Especially with the hint of a grin denting the corner of his mouth.

“And you believe everything you’ve heard?”

After watching him defeat the bandits of the last town and boldly step in front of a barrage of bullets to save her life? “Yes.”

The dent grew into a crease. He slowed his horse until she pulled alongside, and turned to face her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She pushed the hat brim off her face. He had a gorgeous smile—even white teeth and finely shaped lips. There probably was not a woman he had ever asked to his bed who had turned him down. She wondered if they had noticed how rarely his smile reached his eyes. “Where exactly do we go?”

He ran those eyes over her in a slow perusal, making her vividly aware of the fact that she was still braced on the pommel and also of her promise not to slow him down. “Getting a bit saddle sore?”

“Not at all.”

It was probably the biggest lie of her life. She would have much to confess to her priest when she returned home.

Sam tipped his hat back the smallest bit. The sun reflected off his face, turning the deeper flecks in his eyes to shards of blue fire. For all that he sat relaxed in the saddle, he radiated an energy that crackled. Or maybe it was just her awareness of him that gave the impression of sizzle. She’d never met a man who made her so conscious of the weight of her breasts, the softness between her thighs, the very unique differences of male and female.

“Good to know. I was hoping to get another three hours in.”

Three hours? Her thighs would be raw meat by then.

“It’ll be dark in the next half hour.”

He pointed to the left. “The moon ought to give us enough light to travel by.”

She hadn’t noticed the half-moon rising. She tried again. “What about dinner?”

He reached behind him, flipped open the saddlebag and pulled out a cloth-wrapped parcel. “Here.”

She had to let go of the pommel to take it. Try as she might to hide it, she knew he saw her wince as her thighs took her weight.
“Gracias.”

She unwrapped the cloth. Inside were two biscuits and four strips of jerky. Not a whole lot of food. Her stomach growled. She had not eaten since this morning, and not that much then. Fish was not her favorite. Sam reached over and took Sweet Pea’s reins. With a flick of his wrist he tossed them over the horse’s head.

“I’ll lead Sweet Pea here while you eat.”

Sweet Pea jerked away from the flip of the reins. The food tottered in her hand. Dinner almost fell in the dirt. “Be careful!”

“I’m always careful.”

She took a piece of jerky before wrapping up the rest of the food. “This I do not believe.”

“Why not?”

She cocked her head to the side. How much to tell? “I think you do not care much if you live or die, so you do crazy things.”

He blinked and his smile slipped. “That’s what you think?”

“Sí.”

“You think too much.”

It was either think too much or moan over the condition of her thighs. “For this you should be grateful.”

“What makes you say that?”

“If I did not think, I would have nothing to take my mind off the town we are passing. Thinking of the town would make me think of hotels and soft mattresses. Thinking of the mattress left behind would make me realize how unhappy I am. Being unhappy makes me sad. Being sad…”

He held up his hand. “Go ahead. Think.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and took a bite of the jerky. There was kindness in him.

He waited for her to start chewing before he asked, “Are you settled? Can we head on now?”

Good manners dictated she not talk until she was finished eating. If she followed good manners, they would still be standing here tomorrow night. The jerky was very tough. The only option was a nod.

“Let’s move, then.”

She couldn’t stop her groan as the horse took the first step. Sam glanced over his shoulder. “When you were evading the Tejala gang the last six months, you didn’t spend a lot of time on horseback, did you?”

“No.” She took another bite of the jerky. It was salty, and flavored with a spice she didn’t recognize, but to an empty stomach it was very good.

“Where did you hide?”

“In a cave.”

“What drove you out of hiding?”

“Men found the cave.” Vile men with rape on their minds.

“Tejala’s.”

“No. Others.”

“That must have been a bitch.”

“It was not my best day.”

With a cluck of his tongue, Sam urged Sweet Pea to pick up the pace. The horse immediately complied. Isabella had noticed that always happened. Animals liked Sam. Truth was, so did she. Sometimes for reasons she could define and others for reasons she did not understand but which were more compelling than the ones she did. She took another bite of jerky. He was a very interesting man.

“Where do we go?”

He pointed toward the setting sun.

“Another town?”

“No.”

She chewed some more and tried again. “A place that at least has a tub?”

She held the jerky in her mouth while she waited for the answer.

“No, but there’s a pond.”

She swallowed the jerky. “That will do.”

Another tug on the reins had Sweet Pea catching up. “You’re looking forward to a bath?”

“Are you not?”

The side of his mouth she could see tipped up in a familiar smile. “Are you hinting I’m getting a bit ripe?”

“I would not suggest such a thing to a man.”

“You just plan on suffering in silence?”

She opened the napkin and broke off a piece of biscuit. “I am rarely silent, especially when I suffer.”

If she thought his smile was handsome before, it was nothing compared to how handsome it was when emotion filled it.

It took her a moment to remember to breathe.

He tugged his hat down, covering his eyes, leaving only his mouth to focus on. It was a very expressive mouth, given to nuance rather than exaggeration. And right now he was amused. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a cluck of his tongue he went ahead, leaving her with a strange tingle in her stomach and a heat that infused her skin with a radiant sensitivity. What was it about this man? Why did he have such an effect on her? There were many handsome men on the Montoya ranch. Many men who walked with grace, fought with power, faced death with courage. Men who had a dangerous edge, but none of them had what Sam had. None of them had his bold masculine appeal that sank beneath her skin like liquid lightning. He could have any woman he wanted, be anywhere he wanted to be. But he was here. With her. That had to mean something. And if it didn’t, there had to be a way for her to make it into something. Something good.

The first time she’d seen him coming up the rise, she’d been praying, asking God to send her a solution to her problem. Folding the rest of the biscuit into the napkin to keep it from crumbling, she wondered—did that make Sam the answer to her prayer?

She bit off more jerky, chewing contemplatively. It was a strange idea, but it had also been a strange prayer. Besides, what was the point of praying if one was not going to believe that occasionally a prayer would be answered?

Even if the timing of Sam’s arrival was coincidence and not divine intervention—she was aware she might be convincing herself because she wanted it to be so—Sam was still a solution to her problem that she could easily live with. She did not kid herself that Sam was a forever man, but he was a man who could probably provide the happiness it was rumored a woman could experience in bed. He would not worry about her modesty, about offending her. About right or wrong. He would merely take what he wanted, give her what she needed. No more, no less. Exactly what she had prayed for. This could work.

Tejala wanted her as a virgin sacrifice to his power. Proof to the people of his town that he was invincible. That they owed him for their existence, and his benevolence could be counted on only as long as they submitted to his will. That’s why he hadn’t taken her by force. He’d left her lying in the dirt, vowing that before he would marry her she would crawl to him begging for the honor to be his wife—the honor she’d rejected. First he would take her pride, then he would take her home and lastly he would take her life. If she let him.

She did not feel like letting him.

Studying Sam, taking in his naturally aggressive posture, his broad shoulders that narrowed to his lean hips, the revolver that rode his hip, she saw a man designed to give Tejala headaches. Tejala would never accept being second to this man, just as she would never accept Tejala as her first man. She might not be able to win their war, but on the subject of whom she gave her virginity to, that battle she could win.

Sam was a warrior like Tejala, but with a difference. Tejala made her skin crawl, but Sam made her want to crawl under his skin. Where she’d be safe. Maybe that was the difference. She took another bite of dry biscuit. Her father had always told her that when she met a man who made her feel safe, who made her heart race, one others held in respect, then she would be looking at the man God had made for her. She grimaced. As a child she had believed him. As an adult she knew things were more complicated.

Her father had been a romantic. A good man, but impractical in some ways. Still, there was merit in his words about looking for a lover. Much more than in the advice her mother had handed out.

Her mother was the opposite of her father—practical to the core. Isabella had always thought her mother had very little respect for her father. Their marriage had been arranged. A good marriage producing a contract that joined property boundaries. She did not think her mother had ever forgiven her father for being caught up in the excitement and romance of making his fortune, for leaving Spain and coming to the territory. Her mother would have been content being the wife of a third son of a respectable family. She was not content being the wife of the only aristocrat in the new land.

That dissatisfaction drove her to want more for Isabella. In her mother’s eyes, Isabella needed to return to Spain to find a husband. Short of that, she needed to marry Tejala and secure the family’s future in the land to which her father had chosen to bring them. Her mother was a great believer in exploiting the rules of the society in which she found herself. So was Isabella. Just not in the same way.

Her parents’ different views had torn their family apart, forced Isabella to flee, killed her father. She closed her eyes against that memory, everything going black around her, leaving only the sound of her father calling her name, Tejala’s laugh, a spray of blood hitting paper, an awful gurgle and then nothing. No more pain, no more dreams. Nothing except flight and the knowledge that each day might be the day Tejala found the way to force her to crawl. As if she would ever crawl to that son of a dog.

“If you don’t ease up that grip, your dinner is gonna be crumbs.”

Isabella looked down. She was holding the napkin so tightly the contents squeezed out between her fingers. “I am sorry.”

She pulled the corner of the napkin back. One of the biscuits had survived pretty much intact. The jerky was invulnerable to the assault. She urged Sweet Pea closer to Breeze, gritting her teeth against the agony in her thighs. Holding out the food, she offered the intact biscuit. “This one did not suffer too much.”