Authors: Sarah McCarty
Her mouth worked as she debated her response. Such a pretty mouth. A lush bow of pink temptation that made him think of hot nights and satiated mornings. Hell, maybe he’d just been too long without a woman and that’s why he reacted to this woman so strongly. Ducking the law and bounty hunters didn’t allow for much fun in a man’s life. As soon as he had the thought, Shadow dismissed it. He’d had plenty of whores who had let him know he was welcome. It wasn’t the opportunity that was lacking but the compromise in him. He at least liked the illusion of mutual pleasure in his encounters. A straight cash exchange for a woman parting her legs just wasn’t worth the effort it took to scrounge up an available one. The few women he used to visit had gotten married, so he’d ended up just doing without. Which was another oddity in his recent behavior. He’d never been a man who’d done without.
But in this instance, he wasn’t going to go without. At least when it came to information. If he was to protect Fei, he needed to know what he was up against. He removed the towel from around his stiff neck and dipped it back in the bowl. “Let me know when you’re done debating how much truth to mix with your lies.”
Surprise chased across her face and then her expression took on that serenity that he was beginning to suspect was her shield.
“You think I would lie?”
He wrung out the towel. “Yeah, I do, but let me save you the effort. I need to know everything you’re facing, if what you’re wanting is my protection.”
“Some of it is private.”
Wrapping the towel back around his neck, he countered, “If it involves my life and your safety, it can stay private, but private between us.”
While she debated that, he looked around the kitchen. The bright colors screamed a love of life. The order spoke of a need for control. The strange pots and spoons spoke of a different culture. He looked at her again. The Chinese kept to themselves. Out of self-preservation and because it was their way. How much scope did “private” cover for her?
“You did marry up with me for protection, didn’t you?” The last thing he needed was to be involved with a woman who just wanted to piss off Papa.
An expression he couldn’t decipher crossed her face and then she nodded. Entirely too serenely. The lady was hiding something, giving him what he assumed was true too quickly for it to be everything. At this point, he had a choice. He could browbeat her and hope to get what he wanted or he could wait for a better time. Since any good hunter knew it was better to lie in wait than to chase, he opted for waiting. He was a very good hunter.
His stomach rumbled.
“You got anything for us to eat?”
“Nothing prepared. And there is not time to cook.”
He cocked an eyebrow and waited, forcing her to talk, out of some perverse desire to hear her voice. She licked her lips. They glistened in the failing light. Shadow couldn’t look away, waiting for them to shape around syllables so he could watch their play. So he could enjoy, he realized. He forced his gaze up, not liking the need that ruled him. Fei’s lashes lowered, shielding her eyes. Her hands were folded in front of her. He wanted to reach down and break their grip, break her serenity. He wanted her to notice him, he realized.
“We can make time for a meal.”
She was shaking her head before he finished the sentence. “You were correct earlier. Damon and the sheriff, when they get together and drink, they are like…” She wiggled her fingers around her head and made a buzzing sound.
“Bees?”
She shook her head. “Meaner.”
“Hornets.”
“Ah, yes. Hornets.” She nodded. A tendril of blue-black hair slid out from behind her ear. “Like these hornets, if one gets excited so does the other. Around and around they fly, getting louder, madder, until they attack whatever it is that annoys them.”
“And you annoyed them?” He caught her chin with the edge of his finger, bringing her gaze up.
“Yes.”
“Did they give you this bruise?”
“No.”
She was telling the truth. Shadow looked around the small house. There were no shutters on the windows. No bars on the door. No barriers to anyone who wanted to get in. A woman here alone would be an easy target. “Tell me, why haven’t they done anything about it?”
“They are afraid of my father.”
“Fear rarely keeps a drunk man from doing something stupid.”
“Jian Tseng has a temper and he is
very
good with explosives.”
“Has a habit of blowing things up, does he?”
“When he is displeased, or doing his job, there is none better.”
There was a whole lot of unsaid in that sentence.
“A man who can make big holes in rocks exactly where they’re supposed to be is valuable to the railroad. The bosses wouldn’t take kindly to anything happening to him.”
“No, they would not, but I think if the sheriff and Damon could find a way to kill my father without losing their bonuses, they would.”
For every day a crew beat a deadline, they received a cash bonus. Shadow hazarded a guess. “Your pa’s been making them a lot of money.”
Fei eased her chin free, took a step back and resumed her demure stance. Modesty, fear or deception?
“Yes.”
“And that’s been keeping you safe.”
It wasn’t a question and she didn’t treat it like one. She smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle in her skirt. “Yes.”
Deception. Interesting. “Where
is
your father?”
“It is not a daughter’s place to question where her father goes.”
“You strike me as the questioning type.”
There was the barest hesitation before she answered. “Perhaps, and perhaps my father is not the answering type.”
She had a point, but Shadow still couldn’t shake the feeling he wasn’t getting the whole story.
“Is that old plug the only horse you have here?”
“Yes.”
Damn.
“Do you have a place in mind where you want to go?”
She looked up. “Yes.”
“How far is it?”
She raised one finger.
“Would that be one minute, one hour or one day?”
“One day.”
That was a far piece for a woman to travel alone. “On that horse?”
“Yes.”
It’d take half the time with better mounts. Shadow grabbed his hat off the hook by the back door.
“Where do you go?” she asked.
“To steal better horses.”
She reached out and then just as quickly jerked her hand back. “You were just hanged for that.”
“Must be the lesson didn’t take.”
She just stared at him. “I don’t understand you.”
The bodice of her dress gaped open. He straightened it. She didn’t even breathe as he closed the lapel. “You said you didn’t think I was a thief. Maybe you ought to build up from that.”
Her serenity cracked and she frowned at him. “I do not think that would be wise.”
Nope, probably not, considering how much he wanted to kiss her right then.
“Sure?” He settled his hat on his head. “It would help soothe your nerves.”
“Maybe I don’t need help, after all.”
“Honey, you need a hell of a lot of help. It’s just a matter of how much and where. While I’m gone, it’d help if you’d resign yourself to reality.”
She took the towel from his neck with a bravado denied by the slight tremor in her hands. “It is best
you
resign
your
self. You are not my father and not a real husband. Your say is limited.”
The dismissal slipped under his guard, goading his anger. He adjusted his hat on his head. “Real enough that if I wanted to toss you on that bed and prove it no one would say a word in dispute.”
“I would.”
“Honey, if I decided to have my way, your words would be nothing more than pretty little squeaks.”
The fire left her expression to be replaced by a cold certainty. “You would be wise not to dismiss me, thief.”
“You’d be wiser to learn when not to buck the current.”
“I have warned you.”
So she had. “I heard you.” With a wave of his hand he indicated the wound.
“Get some medicine on your wound. And after that make supper from something we can eat as we ride.”
She glanced out the window. “It is dangerous to ride at night.”
In one breath she threatened him, the most feared man in the territory, and in the next she was worried about a ride in the dark? The woman was a bundle of contradictions. “Going to be a Comanche moon tonight. We’ll see well enough. Besides, you’ve got me to keep you safe.”
“You just threatened me.”
“No, I just told the truth. You were the one doing the threatening.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she asked, “You think I should trust you?” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that?”
He smiled, lightly drew his fingers down her cheek and gave her another truth. “What other choice do you have?”
CHAPTER THREE
W
HAT
OTHER
CHOICE
DO
YOU
HAVE
?
Three hours later, riding beside the silent Shadow, Fei touched the wound on her chest, feeling nothing but the bandage and discomfort beneath. The bandage Shadow had insisted on checking when he’d arrived back from wherever he’d gone, bringing back horses, guns and gear with him. There had been nothing sexual in his touch when he’d checked it, but that hadn’t stopped a quiver of awareness from going through her. Awareness she didn’t need. She’d put away such feelings many years ago when she’d realized what marriage would mean for one of her mixed heritage. She did not want to be married to a man who would tell her what to do, who would take other wives and expect her to be grateful for the help. She especially didn’t want the position of second or third wife, which was the best she could hope for among her father’s culture since her blood was not pure. Worse yet, she might be relegated to concubine status. A woman of the moment with no real place.
No, she did not like her choices, so any foolishness she had felt in regard to falling in love, she had squashed. Whenever her heart skipped a beat in the presence of a young man, she reminded herself where those feelings would lead her—ruin. And not the kind her father feared could come at the hands of a man, but the kind of ruin that came from burying herself in a grave while she still took breath. She was twenty-three now. No longer a foolish girl. No longer a dreamer. So why did just looking at this man give her such pleasure?
“Did I sprout a wart on my chin?”
Even his voice gave her pleasure—deep and low, with a resonance that slid along her nerves like a caress. Harsher now for the trauma of the rope, but still so pleasurable. Fei ducked her head and feigned meekness, locking her gaze on the part in her mare’s mane. “I apologize for my rudeness.”
“You only need to be apologizing if you don’t find my looks to your taste.”
The statement jerked her eyes back to him. He had to be joking with her. There were very few women who would find him not to their taste. The darkness of his skin might be distasteful to many, but the danger he wore around him as easily as other men wore their shirts would easily overcome that. The sexuality he radiated would hold them. No, there would be very few women who would not find this man attractive. “You are old enough to know your worth.”
The corner of his mouth creased. Amusement or annoyance? “Calling me old?”
“No.” Even if she thought it, she wouldn’t call him that. Not now, at least. There had to be an end to his patience and she did not want to find it before her duty was done.
The crease spread to a smile. “You, Fei Ochoa, do not give a man much to hold on to.”
The sound of her new name startled her. That was who she was now. Not Fei Yen Tseng, but Fei Ochoa. She was an American now, no longer Chinese. American women were not meek. She dropped the pretense she no longer needed to carry. With a snap of the reins she said, “That is more than likely because I do not wish to be held.”
He cut her a glance. “Everyone wants to be held.”
“I was not speaking literally.”
“Neither was I.”
Fei sighed. And now she had a curiosity about him. When had he wanted to be held? And by whom? She did not need a curiosity about this man. He was already like dim sum to her.
She ducked under a tree limb. A leaf twirled wildly past her face. Such a little thing, but so relevant. Like the leaf, her life was spinning out of her control and she was running in circles, trying to catch up. The leaf landed on the toe of her ankle-high boot, clung for a minute, finding balance before being blown away. She looked over to find Shadow watching her, his gaze measured. Was this her moment of balance before the final tumble?
“Fei?”
She shook her head. “I am sorry. It has not been a good day.”
“You look like you’re chewing some tough meat.”
“I do not understand.”
“You look upset.”
“Again, I am sorry. There are many aspects of being American I have not learned.”
“You’ve been studying hard?”
“Yes.”
His eyebrow cocked. Her stomach clenched and her heart missed a beat. He was a very attractive man.
“That was one tired yes.”
“It is not as easy as I had thought.”
He moved his horse closer. “I can help, you know.”
Her knee bumped his thigh. Through her tunic and pants, she could feel the hard muscles. She’d never felt a man’s leg against hers. It was not something she ever expected to feel.
“Xei-xei.”
“Now, that’s a pretty word.”
“It means thank you.”
“Say it again.”
She obliged, and when she was done, he repeated it to her. His drawl added an exotic lilt to the familiar sound.
“That right?”
She smiled, looked down and nodded, inordinately pleased that he’d tried to speak her language.
“Good.”
There was absolutely no reason for her breath to catch in her throat or for her breasts to tingle under his gaze, but they did. She licked her dry lips and tried to pretend that she wasn’t suddenly vitally aware of him. It would probably help if she could pull her attention away from his hands. Those strong hands had surprisingly elegant fingers. Hands that probably knew exactly how to touch a woman to bring to her that perfect moment of pleasure she’d overheard her father’s concubines discussing—
“Honey, you keep looking at me like that and we aren’t going to make it to this place of yours before morning.”
He’d caught her staring at him, worse yet, he had correctly interpreted her interest. But it wasn’t really interest. Just weakness in her defenses. She was not a woman fated for a man. Her destiny lay elsewhere.
“I am not looking at you in any certain way.”
He smiled. A genuine smile that took his expression from austere to charming. “Is that so?”
His fingers brushed her cheek. She blinked as the emotion inside her shifted to something more dangerous. And much more exciting. It was wrong to feel anything for this man. Shadow was an outlaw. A horse thief. A man without principle who made his way in this wild land through violence. He was everything her father would not want for her. Everything that was wrong for her, yet there was so much about him that was acceptable to her. At least on that instinctive level that would not be quiet. Bringing her hand up to her cheek, she rested her fingertips against his. Was this what her mother had experienced when she’d fallen in love with a man from China? This overwhelming push in a direction she knew she should not go?
The attraction her mother had felt for her father had to have been powerful for her to leave her family and suffer the insults and degradation of a society that had no place for Chinese ways and those who chose to embrace them. But her mother had embraced her father’s culture even when she’d not been welcomed into it. She’d learned the language, learned the customs and she’d raised her daughter with the same beliefs. Fei shook her head. She wished her mother had lived long enough for her to ask for the answers to questions she still had. Questions about why and how. She wished her mother were here so her father would be here, but she wasn’t, and he wasn’t, and as surely as her mother was locked in her grave, her father was locked in the anguish of her death. Grief had stolen his will and his love and the man she’d left in the cellar at home was just an empty shell of the man her mother must have loved. She wished she could remember that man.
“I think I liked it better when you were staring at me like I was dipped in honey.”
This time Fei didn’t mind the interruption of her thoughts. Sad thoughts had no place in her new life. She placed her hand back in her lap. The heat of Shadow’s skin lingered in the tips of her fingers. Curling them, she held the sensation to her, trying to hold the connection to him. To her mother. To her plan. “And how do you think I stare at you now?”
“Like I’m a rather disgusting bug you poked with a stick.”
She couldn’t restrain a slight smile. Shadow had a way with words that painted images in her mind. “Maybe I’m hoping you’ll run away.”
His expression sobered. “Are you?”
She studied the guns he’d acquired, sitting so easily on his hips, the knives tucked so casually into the knee-high tops of his moccasins as if they belonged there, the rifle resting so casually across his lap. She remembered the way he’d fought the hanging party even when bound.
This time, you finally chose right.
Maybe she had. “No, I do not hope you’ll run away.”
“Good to know I have my uses.”
“Everyone needs a purpose.”
“And what is yours?”
To save her family’s reputation. To save her cousin. To find a way for herself. “To fulfill my destiny.”
“That’s a tall order.”
“It is the same for everyone.”
“You think I have a destiny?”
“You do not?”
“Honey, I think my brother’s and my birth was greeted with nothing but a curse.”
“You are a twin?”
“Yes.”
“Such good fortune upon your family.”
Shadow pulled his horse up short. “My mother was an Indian whore. My father was a Mexican soldier from a family that didn’t see their union, or anything that came of it, as a blessing.”
Her horse carried on a couple more steps. Fei turned in the saddle so she could meet his gaze. There was no emotion in his expression, no emotion in his eyes, but Fei understood the type of anger that came from that kind of pain.
“My mother was white, my father Chinese, of a good family. I know what it is like to have the ancestors frown upon you. It is a curse that doesn’t leave and taints the fortunes of all around.”
Shadow urged his horse closer. “Damn it, Fei. I’m sorry.”
The horse whickered. He seemed such a nice horse, with soft brown eyes. How did he feel being ripped from his life? Leaning over, she patted his neck. “But it is not an excuse to do what you will.”
“Are you about to lecture me?”
“Where did you get the guns?”
“I told you.”
“This horse is well cared for. He was happy in his home. You can see it in his eyes.”
“You’re upset because you think I stole a horse from its happy home?”
“It is not fair to him.”
“Maybe I’m his destiny.”