Diablo (16 page)

Robin, after seeing his hero take the plate from her, needed no more urging in delivering several more plates as Nicky placed the pie on top of the stove to keep it warm. She heard the voices in the next room and leaned against the wall next to the door, listening for a moment and enjoying the sound of Kane O'Brien's deep, confident tone.

He was asking questions about Sanctuary. Perhaps he really was thinking about staying. He wouldn't be on the run, then. Sanctuary was safe. It was just … lonely.
Please
, she said to whomever listened to people like her.
Please let him stay.
But then she thought about her brother, his need to leave this place.

Had her mother been faced with choices like the ones she faced?

Nicky desperately wished that her mother were alive, that she could ask these questions. She remembered her mother's softness, her gentleness. She remembered whispered words between her mother and father, and the way they had touched all the time. She remembered her father's grief when her mother had died. Still, he had continued his outlaw ways, finally leaving two orphans. She had loved him dearly, but she'd never forgiven him for that. How could she even think about loving a man like her father?

Her hands knotted into fists. It's Robin who's important, she thought. Robin. Remember that.

“Sis.” Robin was back in the kitchen. “We're waiting for you.”

She nodded, wiped her hands on a towel.

Remember Robin, she kept telling herself as she took the few steps toward temptation.

Kane tried to hide his astonishment. Nicole Thompson was not only pretty, she was enchanting. The blue of her dress emphasized the gold highlights in her tousled hair, and the small wildflower behind her ear was perfect for her delicate gamine face. Her eyes seemed enormous, and her cheeks were slightly flushed, either from some rouge or heat from the oven. If it was the former, it had been very artfully applied.

He'd known she had a nice figure. Even the masculine clothes hadn't been able to completely disguise the slender but soft body, and his hands had confirmed that opinion. But the dress enhanced every curve, including the smallness of her waist. He wanted to put his hands around it, and he wanted to pull her against him. Even more appealing, though, was her uncertainty, her unawareness of her own desirability. Kane had not felt humbled often in his life, but he felt both humbled and despairing that she had gone to this trouble for him.

He was only too aware that Nat Thompson was studying his face every couple of seconds, and Kane had tried not to show his interest, his own vulnerability where Nicole Thompson was concerned. When she'd disappeared so quickly, he'd tried to turn his attention to his job, prying information from Nat Thompson.

The man had a damnably self-satisfied smile on his face. For some reason Kane didn't understand, he had been selected as heir apparent, and it seemed he'd been correct in assuming that the position included Nicole Thompson. How much had her uncle had to do with gussying her up tonight? He was suddenly furious at Nat Thompson.

“Tell me more about Sanctuary,” he said after Nicole left the room. “Exactly how safe is it?”

“Thinking about what I said?”

“Maybe,” Kane said. “But some people have to know where Sanctuary is. Your guides, for instance. And those who trade with the Indians, and whoever brings in the supplies. How can you be sure they won't talk?”

Nat shrugged. “I have too much on them for one thing. Another thing, I pay well. There's something else they remember, too,” Nat said. “A number of dangerous men like this place. They wouldn't appreciate its exposure.”

“The Indians? What if they make a treaty?”

“I deal with renegades who hate the army. Most of them are wanted themselves.”

“What about the army?”

Nat grinned at him. “They have no authority over civilians here.”

“Supply routes?”

Nat's grin grew wider. “If you decide to stay, I'll share some of our secrets. You thinking about it?”

“Who wouldn't?” Kane countered. “But why me?”

“Like I said, you use your head. Like now. You don't just accept; you ask questions. You want to know everything about the situation. Most men would jump at the opportunity to take over Sanctuary.”

Kane hesitated a moment. “I appreciate the offer.”

“But?”

“I told you before. I get restless. I don't know if I could stay in this valley for months, much less years.”

“It has its benefits, Diablo,” Thompson said.

Just then Nicky entered the room and Kane stood up. Thompson and Robin stared at him in amazement.

“My army training,” he said as he waited for Nicky to sit, her gaze fastened on him. Even with her brother and uncle present, electricity rippled between them. Kane felt singed by it as he slowly sat after she had seated herself. “One of the few things I picked up as an officer and gentleman,” he added with self-derision.

But Nicole looked pleased, and that ripple of electricity turned into a stream of warm pleasure that ran through his blood.

Robin looked disgusted, but Nat Thompson didn't. He appeared pleased again. “What else did you learn?”

“Stay toward the back,” he answered with a smile. Unfortunately, he hadn't learned that until it was too late.

“And tactics?” Thompson obviously wasn't through with his constant probing.

“I wasn't ever asked for an opinion,” he said. “I was more cannon fodder.”

“It took some damn good tactics to survive as long as you did in Texas. How many robberies?”

“I didn't count,” Kane said.

“How many men did you have?”

He was being interrogated by the best of them, Kane thought. Marshal Ben Masters didn't come close. But then Masters hadn't been interested in Diablo; he only wanted Sanctuary.

Kane shrugged. “It varied.” He took a piece of chicken and put a piece in his mouth. It was tender enough to melt there. His eyes went back to Nicky.

Nat Thompson chuckled. “There are definite advantages at Sanctuary,” he said, then started eating himself. The interrogation was over, at least temporarily.

Throughout the rest of the meal, little conversation took place, although Kane noticed Nicky's gaze wandering toward him. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes off her, too. He had the ugly feeling that Nat Thompson was noting and enjoying his weakness.

Kane could scarcely eat the apple pie, as good as it was. Every bite stuck in his throat. Nicky's eyes were glowing, her smile both sweet and endearing. There was a directness about her, especially her kiss, even in her uncertainty, in the shyness born of inexperience. She had been so damn direct in that kiss, the kiss he kept remembering. Feeling. Wanting.

When he'd taken the last bite, Nat Thompson looked at him speculatively. “I asked Andy to get the buggy ready, since my niece is wearing a dress,” he said. “I thought you might like a spell of fresh air after dinner.”

Kane hesitated. God knew a breath of fresh air would be welcome. Gulps of it. A skyful of it. He wanted it with Nicky, but he
needed
it alone. He needed to think, and he couldn't do that when Nicky was anywhere nearby. And he was being manipulated again. He resented it like hell that Nat Thompson was using his niece as a lever to get what he wanted. The thing that so confounded him, though, was why. Why had
he
had been chosen?

He still wasn't sure, despite Nat Thompson's earlier explanation. Thompson had run Sanctuary all these years. Why change now? Why use someone he obviously loved to get his way? None of it made sense to Kane.

His hesitancy was apparently obvious. Nicky was rising, her face a little more colored that it had been. “I can't go, Uncle Nat,” she said. “I have to clean the kitchen and …”

Thompson glared at Kane. “Nonsense,” he said. “It's nothing that can't wait.”

Kane realized his hesitation had been interpreted as reluctance. Nicky, who had met his gaze all evening, was now avoiding it, bowing her head ever so slightly even as her back stiffened. Against hurt? Against humiliation? His chest constricted, anguish striking at his heart. Of everyone involved in this unholy mess, she and Robin were the most innocent and would be hurt the most.

His unwilling but growing liking for Nat Thompson plummeted. One thing he couldn't do was humiliate Nicky in front of her family.

“You're right,” he said to Thompson. “A buggy ride sounds just fine.”

Nicky was halfway out of her chair, and she stopped, turning to look at him directly again. “You don't have to take me,” she said in a tight voice. “I don't even want to go.”

“Please,” he said. It had been a long time since he'd last said please. He couldn't even remember when. The word sounded rusty on his lips.

Her eyes were suddenly confused, uncertain, and the constriction in his chest grew tighter. He could barely breathe, waiting for her answer. He wanted her to say yes. He longed to erase the hurt she tried so hard to keep from her face, repair the pride that kept her body so stiff. Kane knew about injured pride, how much it ate at the insides. God, he knew.

What will happen to her pride when she discovers you were only using her to ruin her uncle?

Damn, he couldn't think of that now. Three pairs of eyes were on him, judging him.

Kane stood and walked over to Nicky, holding out his hand. After a moment, she took it, but the stiffness didn't go away. He felt her tension in her slender fingers. Her hand seemed small in his, fragile, hardly strong enough to pull a trigger. He reminded himself that she was stronger than she appeared, that those fingers
had
pulled a trigger and killed a man. He tried to equate that woman with this one: soft and pretty and so easily wounded. He couldn't.

“Come with me,” he said, hearing the seduction in his own voice, knowing he himself was being seduced.

She took a step and another, and then they were at the door. He opened it. There was one last hesitation on her part, a question in her eyes.

“I want you,” Kane heard himself say softly, so softly he didn't think the others could hear. He hadn't meant to say it that way. He'd meant to say he would like her company. Both were true. Her hand moved in his, her fingers wrapping themselves around his. A gesture of trust. The anguish inside him deepened. So did the want. The need.

And the self-disgust.

They didn't say anything on the way to Andy's livery. They didn't have to. The air was alive with sparks, with words unsaid, emotions too raw and new to explain.

Andy had the buggy ready. What's more, Andy showed him the rifle that lay in the back. Kane wondered what the blacksmith thought about this change in rules. His face was inscrutable, though, and Kane wasn't sure he wanted to know. There was something tight about his mouth, as if he didn't approve. Kane wondered whether the blacksmith was aware of Nat Thompson's offer.

Kane helped Nicky up into the buggy, his hand hesitating before releasing hers. Heat radiated between them. He was reluctant to let it go.

Andy cleared his throat, and Kane dropped her hand and stepped up into the driver's seat. He tried not to think of her just inches away, but it was damn difficult when she smelled of flowers. The awareness between them seemed to reverberate like the echo of church bells. He tried to concentrate on the buggy instead. He hadn't seen this vehicle before and guessed it had been in the back of the barn. Sanctuary apparently had every little comfort, even this absurd buggy in the middle of nowhere. It was black and red. Obviously new, or rarely used. Kane snapped the reins and the horses moved ahead.

He headed for the river, away from town. He didn't particularly want any of the “guests” speculating, though he knew the news would probably permeate Sanctuary in a matter of minutes. He was courting the forbidden niece of Nat Thompson, obviously with Thompson's approval.

Kane snapped the reins again, pushing the horses into a faster pace toward the creekbed and trees and whatever limited privacy there was in Sanctuary.

Sanctuary? He thought he'd been in hell in the Yank prison camp. That place had been a nursery next to this one.

“Kane?”

His name was said softly, and he was suddenly very aware it was the first time she'd used it. It was also the first time he hadn't hated it. Kane sounded somehow soft in her voice, on her lips. Not harsh. Not murderous.

He turned and looked at her. Her face was visible in the light of an almost full moon. Her features appeared luminous, and altogether too appealing.

“I'm sorry my uncle … forced you …”

“He didn't force me to do anything,” he said shortly. “I only hesitated because I'm so wrong for you. I don't have a future, Nicky. You deserve better.”

There was a long silence. He didn't know whether she accepted his explanation or not. But they rode in silence along the ruts that apparently served as the road for supplies. He chucked the horses several times, just to pretend a concentration on driving that he didn't feel. He was too aware of her presence. God, how he wanted her in his arms.

There was a slight pull on his arm, and he looked toward her. She pointed to a stand of trees along the creek, and he made for it, though the buggy bumped and groaned. When he reached it, he stopped the horses. She jumped down without his help, and he had no choice but to follow. Then he cursed himself for a liar. He did have a choice. He could stay in the seat and be safe. Safe from her, safe from what he knew was coming.

He stepped down.

He looked at the pale silver of the moon, at the stars sprinkled like dust across the sky, and then his gaze turned to Nicky. She stood shadowed by the trees, a lonely, lovely figure. He didn't move, thinking of the first time he'd seen her and the moments after she'd shot Yancy. She'd been so defensive, so full of prickles and fight. It had all been a sham, just like so much of him was a sham. They were both lost, she through no fault of her own, and he through self-inflicted mistakes. But he saw his own loneliness reflected in her, a loneliness he'd denied for years and that now shouted out for acknowledgment.