One Texas Night

CHAPTER 2

Ranger Wynn McCord tried to tell himself he was just helping the lady out—being polite, that was all—but he knew the truth. From the moment he’d seen her in the coach, all prim and proper, he’d thought about what she’d feel like to touch. He didn’t want to just help her; he wanted to hold her close. It had been a long time since he’d felt that way about any woman. He’d probably lost the ability to even talk to a woman like this one, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about what they might do besides talk.

Now she was pressed against him from knee to chin and he didn’t want to step back. She had that never-been-touched look about her and he wondered if, beneath all those pleats and buttons, a man had ever thrown a rope around her. She said she’d been married for an hour before her husband left. It would take a great deal longer than that to convince her she was desired.

He’d watched her all day while the others thought he slept. There was a grace about her that fascinated him. She’d talked to the gambler a few times after Frank Sanders told her he’d lived in Washington, D.C., but mostly she read from a little book she kept in her purse. Since she was careful not to turn it where anyone could see the cover, McCord guessed it was one of those adventure/romance dime novels he’d seen around, written for people who wanted to experience the Wild West secondhand.

“Mr. McCord.” Annalane Barkley’s hand pushed against his chest, making him very much aware of just how close they were. “I’ll have to ask you to . . .”

“If you’re going with me, we need a reason to step outside, Mrs. Barkley. Time’s running out,” he whispered without giving an inch. “So, shall we give them that reason, that we might need a little privacy?”

He moved his hand against the back of her head and pulled her to him. “Make it look like you can’t keep your hands off me.” Grinning, he had no doubt the proper Mrs. Barkley wouldn’t have a clue about what to do. “We need to make it to the barn before the moon’s free of clouds again.”

She let out a tiny cry of surprise as his mouth lowered to hers. A moment later, her hand stopped trying to shove him away. She was frozen stiff in his arms, but she didn’t break the kiss.

McCord had meant only to brush her lips. They were in far too much danger to take time for a real kiss, but he couldn’t pull away. Her bottom lip quivered slightly as he parted her lips and deepened the kiss. She tasted far better than he’d let himself imagine in the hours he’d spent daydreaming about her.

“Hey!” the drunk driver yelled. “What’s going on?”

McCord broke the kiss with an oath, but his hand still held her head in place. “Shut up, old man. Nothing that’s any business of yours is happening. The lady and I have just found a way to pass the time.”

He slowly turned toward the three men, staring at each one in turn. Daring them to say more.

When they were silent, he added, “Come on, Anna, let’s find someplace without an audience.”

“And where would that be?” The gambler shrugged, seeming to be enjoying the show they’d put on.

McCord wrapped his arm around the tall woman’s waist and pulled her toward the door. “With this rain, no one is going to storm the place. We’ll be in the barn.” He glared at the men. “And don’t come looking for us unless you’re ready to die.”

He grabbed his leather coat from the peg by the door and tossed it over Anna’s head, then lifted her in his arms and headed out. She kicked and yelled and screamed, but the rain and the coat muffled all sound.

When he made it to the dry silence of the barn, he checked to make sure no one lurked in the shadows before pulling the coat off Annalane and laughing. This very proper lady looked madder than hell. Maybe he should have taken a little more time to explain his plan.

“How dare you!” She poked her finger into his chest as if it were a knife. “Do you know what they all think we are doing right now?”

“I don’t care, lady. I just wanted out of there, and you said you wanted to come with me.” He frowned at her. “If you want to go back just tell me, because where we’re headed isn’t going to be easy, and I can make better time without you. I left the mailbag inside. They can bargain for their lives with it, but I don’t think any one of them would worry about you.”

The woman proved she was not a fool. She said simply, “I want to stay with you.”

He tugged his coat around her shoulders. “We got an hour, maybe more if this rain doesn’t let up. We need to get as far away from here as possible before they notice we’re gone.”

She nodded.

“Any way you can shed a few of those skirts? They’re going to get heavy once they get wet.”

He’d expected her to argue, but she said, “Turn around.”

The petticoats rustled as they fell to the floor. He fought the urge to glance back.

“I’ve practical shoes in my carpetbag,” she said, pointing at the stage, halfway between the barn and the station.

He thought of telling her they didn’t have time, but a minute probably wouldn’t matter. Their chances of making it away were so slight, the odds wouldn’t change much just because she switched shoes. He trudged out to the coach and grabbed her bag along with the extra Winchester the driver must have forgotten. He thought of taking a horse, but the animals were exhausted and someone from the station might notice a horse being unhitched and led away.

When he got back, she had pulled her wild hair down out of a ridiculous nest of curls and was braiding it in one long, midnight braid. The woman was practical.

“Ready, Anna?”

As she shoved her feet into lace-up leather boots, she said, “My name is Annalane.”

“All right.” He watched her, thinking he liked looking at her more than listening to her. The quick Northern accent grated on him. “If you can’t keep up . . .”

“I’ll keep up,” she said. She didn’t seem one inch shorter. The woman reminded him of a willow. He smiled, remembering how he didn’t have to lean down to kiss her; he only had to turn his head to cover her mouth with his.

McCord tossed her worthless hat in the hay. “I won’t leave you, Anna, don’t worry. But tell me if you need to slow down.”

“I’ll keep up,” she repeated without commenting on how he’d just thrown away the only hat she’d ever thought looked good on her. She packed up her carpetbag and moved it behind her as if she thought he might toss it as well.

He smiled. The woman wasn’t far from wrong. He might have tried if he’d had the chance.

They walked out the back of the little barn and headed into a stand of trees that wound along a stream now busting its banks. Anyone watching the station would have had to be within three feet of them to notice them passing.

He’d expected her to slow him down, but she matched his steps. They moved for two hours, with her never more than a few steps behind him. When he climbed, he’d turn and offer his hand. She’d accept the help only as long as needed, then let go. She never complained.

The rain now became their ally, blanketing the sounds, erasing footprints.

He left the stream reluctantly and moved into the rocky hills. If he remembered correctly, they could cross over on foot and save a few miles. The boulders also offered some protection. The outlaws would have to leave their horses if they decided to follow on the uneven ground.

She bumped into him from behind. “Sorry,” she said, sounding out of breath.

McCord turned. “How about we stop for a few minutes.” It had been almost twenty-four hours since either of them had slept.

“I’m fine.” She lifted her chin.

He grinned. “I know, but I’m a little tired. Ten minutes’ rest and then we’ll climb some more.”

They moved between two huge stones and found enough shelter to avoid the rain. It was so dark he could barely make out her outline, huddled on a rock a few feet off the ground, but he could hear her teeth rattling. Pulling his flask from his pocket, he offered her a drink and was surprised when she took it.

When she handed the flask back, he told her to turn around and lift her feet out of the tiny trickle of water that streamed between the boulders. When she followed orders without speaking, he straddled the rock she sat on and pulled her back against his chest. “I’ll rest on the rock, you rest on me. We won’t be very comfortable, but we won’t be as cold.”

She hesitated, then leaned back against him. He propped the rifle at his side and circled her with his arms. She felt as stiff as stone.

“Relax, Anna, I’m not going to attack you.”

“I know,” she said without relaxing.

“How do you know?” He smiled at her in the dark. “I’ve already done it once tonight.”

“You had to do that to plan our escape. I shouldn’t have taken offense.” She leaned into him just a little. “I’m surprised it worked. I’m not the kind of woman men lose their heads over. You’d think one of those three would have noticed.”

It took his tired brain awhile to figure out what she was saying. She didn’t think of herself as attractive.

He wanted to argue, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t believe him. Slowly she warmed in his arms, and he felt the moment she relaxed into sleep. Her body seemed to melt against him. He shifted so that her head rested on his shoulder, then ran his hand down her leg from hip to calf. He told himself he was just seeing how wet her clothes were, but he knew something else drove him. He liked the nearness of this woman more than he’d ever liked any of the saloon girls who’d wiggled up to him wearing only their underwear.

“Sleep, Anna,” he said against her hair. “I’ll watch over you.” He tightened his arms and she cuddled closer.

After holding her for a long while, he tilted her head up. It was time they moved on. The rain had stopped and it would be light before long. They needed to be on the other side of the hill before then.

McCord looked down, wondering how to wake a woman who’d spent the night resting next to him. Her mouth was slightly open. Her warm breath fanned across his face.

He didn’t even think of resisting the urge to taste her. He pulled her close and nibbled her bottom lip.

One taste was not enough.