The Outlaws: Rafe (7 page)

"I'm fine just like I am," she said as she sat on the bunk to remove her shoes and stockings.

"I'll turn around so you can have some privacy," Rafe said magnanimously, though he was feeling far from magnanimous.
 
When Angela looked unconvinced, he said, "Don't you trust me?"

"About as far as I can throw you.
 
You promise not to look?"

"You have my word."

"Very well, turn around."

Rafe turned to face the opposite direction.
 
He heard the rustle of cloth and felt himself grow thick and harden.
 
He remembered another night, her long legs and womanly curves temptingly limned against a backdrop of canvas.
 
He stifled a groan and willed his wayward body to subside.
 
When he heard her slide into bed, he heaved a shaky sigh and flopped over on his stomach.
 
He expected little sleep this night.

Rain lashed the wagon.
 
Thunder rolled and lightning flashed.
 
It was still pouring when the dull gray of morning chased away the murky darkness.
 
Rafe pulled on his clothing and jammed his hat down on his head.
 
Angel was still sleeping as he quietly left the wagon.
 
He had stashed his saddlebags beneath the wagon last night and he ducked down to remove his slicker.
 
Then he ventured out into the rain.

The ground squished beneath his feet and Rafe spit out a curse.
 
Getting bogged down in ankle deep mud didn't appeal to him.
 
He relieved himself, washed up at the stream and returned to the wagon.
 
Angela was up when he returned, setting leftovers from last night out for the breakfast.

"It's damn...er...darn nasty out," Rafe said as he shook out his hat and slicker and climbed over the tailgate.

The wagon seemed to shrink as Rafe filled it with his broad form.
 
Angela felt intimidated by his very presence, although she had to admit that he had acted the gentleman last night.
 
He could have forced her and she couldn't have done a thing about it, but he hadn't.

"Are you hungry?
 
There's leftovers from last night.
 
Help yourself," she said as she drew her shawl over her head and prepared to leave the protection of the wagon.
 
"I won't be gone long."

Seated on his bedroll, Rafe was chewing contentedly on cold rabbit and cornbread when Angela returned.
 
The hem of her skirt was soaking wet and so were her shoes.
 
As she removed her shawl, one wet shoe slid out from beneath her and she fell, right into Rafe's lap.
 
His arms went around her.
 
His skin felt hot against her cool flesh.

"You're cold."

Angela shivered, but she doubted it was from cold.
 
Being held by Rafe was definitely disconcerting.
 
She stared at him through lashes spiked with raindrops.

"You're soaked through.
 
Let's get those wet clothes off of you," Rafe said.

Deftly he undid the buttons on the front of her blouse.
 
Before she knew what he intended, he had pulled her blouse down her shoulders and out of her waistband.
 
She made a grab for it as he pulled it off, but it was too late.
 
Her blouse flew across the wagon.

"Now the skirt," Rafe said, tugging on her waistband.
 
The skirt went the way of the blouse.
 
Then he removed a blanket from his bedroll and placed it around her shoulders, cradling her against him until she stopped shaking.

"Isn't that better?"

"You had no right," she mumbled against the warmth of his chest.

Amusement colored his words.
 
"I'm probably the
only
man who has the right."

She popped her head out of the blanket.
 
"You can release me now."

"Not on your life, Angel.
 
I've wanted to hold you like this for a very long time.
 
Too bad it took a fall to land you in my arms.
 
Relax, I told you I wouldn't do anything you didn't want."

"I don't want to be held."

"Like hell."
 
A knowing smile touched his eyes.
 
"You like to be kissed, too."

As if to prove his point, his mouth came down hard on hers.
 
The kiss was thorough, fierce, devastating, an erotic rampage upon her senses.
 
When he finally lifted his mouth, she felt all ragged inside.

Her heart jumped violently, banging against her ribs.
 
She made a faint sound of apprehension but his mouth smothered it as he kissed her again, penetrating her with his tongue.
 
She felt the flat of his palm move up between her legs, spreading them gently; she tried to squirm away.
 
Her breath hitched as he stroked the silky inner skin, his hold on her tightening.
 
His mouth moved hungrily over hers, tasting of rain and the sizzling tang of lightning.

She moaned low in her throat as her body caught fire and simmered with a sensuality she never knew she possessed.
 
She felt flushed and warm, her skin keenly sensitive.
 
The flesh where his hand caressed felt deliciously chafed, and deep inside, she felt all soft and slick.
 
She knew she had to stop this madness before he wits deserted her.

When Rafe's mouth drifted from her lips to caress the pulse point on her throat, Angela somehow found the strength to turn her face away when he would have taken her lips again.
 
Undaunted, he pushed the blanket aside, pulled down her chemise, and pressed his warm mouth to her breast.

"Rafe!
 
You promised."

"I want you, Angel.
 
I want to make love to you."

"No.
 
I...can't.
 
I don't know you.
 
When you leave I'll never see you again.
 
It's best we both forget our...unusual marriage and get on with our lives.
 
Please don't do this to me.
 
Someday I hope to marry a man who loves me."

His gunmetal eyes were shuttered as his arms fell away.
 
There were small lines etched at the corners of his eyes and mouth and his skin was pulled taut over his cheekbones.
 
A muscle worked in his jaw.
 
Angela tensed, sensing his anger, then she relaxed when she felt the last dregs of tension draining from his body.
 
She rose shakily from his lap, eyeing him warily, relieved when he made no move to stop her.
 
With lethal grace, he pushed to his feet.
 
Before he left the cramped confines of the wagon, he paused and smoothed his rough palm along her cheek.

His voice held a note of tenderness that startled her.
 
"I hope you find that man, Angel."

She heard him moving around outside, hitching the horses to the wagon, and she busied herself with setting the wagon to rights.
 
She moved slowly.
 
Her body felt sluggish, as if the blood had thickened in her veins.
 
Her first taste of passion had left her undeniably wanting, though she had no idea what she wanted.
 
But she was willing to bet that Rafe Gentry knew precisely what she craved, and was eager to give it to her.

They bypassed Pueblo that day and embarked on the last leg of their journey that would take them to Canyon City.
 
The foothills gave way to craggy mountains interspersed with deep canyons.
 
They followed a rocky trail that had been cut through the wilderness, surrounded by thickly forested hillsides.
 
As the day wore on Angela realized they would have to camp yet another night on the trail.
 
And that worried her.

"What are your plans once we reach Canyon City, Rafe?" Angela asked, disrupting the charged silence that hung between them.

Rafe shrugged.
 
"Keep riding, I suppose.
 
It's a big world out there.
 
I've seen all of the South and East during the war that I care to see.
 
Thought I'd explore the West for a while.
 
At least until it's time to meet my brothers in Denver next year."

"You have brothers?"

"Two.
 
Jess and Sam."

"What about your parents?"

"Pa took a fatal bullet early in the war.
 
Ma died three years ago.
 
There's no one else."

"What are your brothers like?
 
I've always regretted that I had no brothers or sisters."

"My brothers are good men.
 
Jess is a doctor."

"Where are they now?"

Rafe wished he knew.
 
"You ask too many questions.
 
Shall we look for a campsite?
 
We can pull beneath that ledge up yonder.
 
I don't see any water nearby but our canteens are full and the water barrel still has some water in it."

"Are you sure we can't make it to Canyon City before dark?"

"I'd rather err on the safe side."

A wolf howled and Angela sidled closer to Rafe.
 
"Was that a wolf?"

"These mountains are full of wild animals.
 
Wolves, bears, panthers, mountain lions, to name a few."

He felt her shiver and marveled once again at her innocence.
 
She'd had no idea what she was getting herself into when she left Wichita.

"Better stick close to the wagon tonight.
 
Those wolves sound hungry.
 
I'll keep a fire going to scare them away."

"I'm not afraid.
 
I lived here until I was ten years old and don't ever recall not feeling safe.
 
I love the mountains.
 
I dreamed of returning one day.
 
Only I expected my father to be alive when I returned."

"With any luck we'll be in Canyon City tomorrow," Rafe said.
 
"How did your father die?"

"I was told it was an accident.
 
But I don't believe it.
 
His last letter hinted that something unforeseen might happen to him, and if it did, he said his partner wasn't to be trusted."

"You think your father's death wasn't an accident?"

"That's what I believe.
 
Shortly after I received word of Father's death, a letter arrived from Brady Baxter, his partner.
 
Baxter said the Golden Angel had played out, and he offered to buy my share at an exorbitant price.
 
If it was worthless, why was he willing to pay so much for it?

Rafe shook his head.
 
"You really are loco, Angel.
 
What makes you think you can take on the world by yourself?
 
You can't accuse a man of murder with no proof."

"I haven't accused anyone of murder...yet.
 
I'll reserve judgment until I look into things for myself.
 
There's a lawyer in Canyon City Father trusted, perhaps he will help me."

"Don't tell me any more," Rafe said.
 
"It's none of my business.
 
I've got my own troubles."

They had reached the outcropping of rock Rafe had chosen for a campsite and he pulled the wagon beneath the sheltering ledge.

"Can you manage here while I hunt for our supper?" Rafe asked as he lifted Angela down from the wagon.

"I'll be fine," Angela returned.
 
"It's growing dark, watch out for wolves."

Idly, Angela wondered about the problems plaguing Rafe.
 
She'd sensed from the beginning that he was on the run, but from what?
 
The law?
 
Could he actually be the killer folks in Ordway named him?
 
She dismissed that notion immediately.
 
But that didn't mean he wasn't wanted for some other crime.
 
She knew intuitively that she couldn't let herself care about a man with a shady past, and Rafe Gentry's past was a shady as they came.

Rafe returned a short time later with a pair of scrawny prairie chickens, which they cooked and ate immediately.
 
Angela cleaned up afterward, then glanced nervously at Rafe.
 
"I guess I'll turn in.
 
Good night."

His silver eyes darkened to the smoky gray of desire.
 
"Does that mean you're not inviting me to share the wagon tonight?"

"Definitely
not
," Angela huffed.

"Don't you trust me?"

She spun around to face him.
 
"After last night I don't even trust myself.
 
I can't think around you, Rafe Gentry.
 
I don't know what to make of you.
 
You're a dangerous man, in more ways than one.
 
You're far too comfortable wearing a gun, and you appear to know how to use it.
 
What are you, Rafe Gentry?
 
Who are you?
 
You spoke of the war.
 
Did you fight for the North or the South?"