Brown Guilty Eyes And Little White Lies
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“Well, if you’ll excuse me, Miss Brown,” he said. “I must be on my way.” He took a step toward the door and then stopped. A little smile graced his face as he turned back to her with an apologetic look on his lips.
But she could see nothing but guilt in those eyes of dark brown. She watched him carefully for signs of deceit. It was there, plain as day—but it was something else that made her heart beat faster. Could it be? She tried to ignore the feeling and forced herself to ask, “Are you going now?”
He nodded and smiled again. Her heart thundered. No, no, not this time! She had to stop it before she did anything stupid. But she couldn’t help it; it felt so good to know that someone wanted her.
Not just a man who wanted the reward money for finding her or a wealthy patron who thought she would make the perfect wife. This one… She had known from the moment they met at the train station that he would take a fancy to her.
It surprised her, though, because it wasn’t what she’d hoped for when she went on the run. But after being treated like a criminal, the idea of a handsome gentleman courting her excited her and frightened her all at the same time. It should have frightened her more than it did.
She took a deep breath and managed to say, “You’re right.”
And then she added quickly, “It’s late. I think I’ll go to bed too. Good night, Mr. Brown.”
The words came out in a rush and she didn’t know where they were coming from. He stared at her with an amused expression that told her that he knew exactly why she’d changed her mind. The last thing she wanted was to sleep next to this dangerous man.
She turned away and walked through the open doorway before he could respond. But she didn’t close the door behind her. If he followed her inside, she would let him in—and that was the last thing she wanted right now.
But her plan failed when she stepped into her bedroom to find him standing there. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to knock before entering someone else’s room?” he asked with a grin.
A flush spread across her cheeks and she dropped into a chair, wishing she had stayed in the library. His laugh filled the air. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered huskily, his eyes locked on hers. There was no way she could avoid hearing the words.
And they sent a shiver up her spine. Did he really mean them, or were they part of some clever ploy? He moved closer until their bodies touched. And suddenly she could hear every word he spoke. Every whisper.
She felt like a prisoner caught in his powerful grip. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard, his mouth hot against hers. She struggled briefly, wanting to escape this terrible situation, but found herself unable to break free. Her body burned beneath the touch of his strong hands.
Her heart beat wildly under the pressure of his muscular chest and she gasped when he lowered his hand to the front of her dress. He pushed down her lacy bra and cupped her breasts in his palms.
They hardened instantly and he squeezed gently, causing her to moan softly and press more firmly against him. She had been kissed before, but never like this. Never by anyone other than the men who had held her captive and threatened her life.
But now that she was free, she realized that kissing might not always mean danger and pain. Maybe it could be pleasurable, too. Pleasurable enough to want to kiss again, and maybe even desire another embrace or two.
She felt his smile as he pulled back slightly. The fire in his eyes gave him away. Yes, she was a willing partner now and he was going to enjoy himself while he had the chance.
When she didn’t object, he reached for the buttons on the front of her dress, one at a time. Each button popped off, sending a jolt down her spine to her lower body. As soon as the zipper came undone, he slid his hands inside and pulled her dress over her head.
It fell to the floor without a sound, leaving her clad only in her black silk petticoat and corset. His breathing became heavier. So did hers. The fire that was raging between them threatened to burn out of control if they kept this up.
But she couldn’t stop looking at his dark brown eyes. And then she noticed the scar that ran from his temple down to just above the corner of his right eye, cutting through the thick mop of hair. She gasped at the sight of it and he chuckled. “I’m sorry, Miss Lark,” he said in a low voice. “My father once whipped me badly. For stealing a chicken, I think.”
“That must have hurt.”
His answer surprised her. “Yes, it did. I was twelve years old.” His voice held an unusual sadness that she couldn’t comprehend. “But it made me tougher than most people.”
Was that a lie? Was that what he intended to do with her? Make her tough enough to withstand whatever life threw at her?
He leaned forward and placed a hand on her cheek, stroking her with his thumb and making her shudder. “You’re a beautiful woman, Miss Lark. A very special woman. Do you feel anything for me?”
She looked away and pretended to examine a spot on the wall with exaggerated care. Then she shook her head and forced a weak laugh. “No, no, not at all. We can’t be lovers.”
Again, that chuckle filled the air around her. “Of course, we can. You don’t know how much I’ve longed to taste you since the first moment I saw you in town.” He traced his finger along her jaw and down her neck.
And then she felt his lips on hers. He kissed her slowly, almost reluctantly, and then moved back slightly, leaving her breathless. She stared at him for a moment before answering in a shaky voice. “What about this is supposed to make me believe otherwise?”
“You need a little persuasion, that’s all.”
The way he used the word persuade told her all she needed to know. He wanted her to beg. And yet, his eyes were full of longing, desire, and regret. All mixed together in that deep brown gaze. But he wasn’t asking her to agree to anything.
That’s why she couldn’t refuse him, she reasoned. If she refused, he would simply take what he wanted anyway. And his reasons for taking it might be justified… if she could convince herself that this was the right thing to do.
She swallowed hard and tried to force the words out, but her tongue was stuck. What was she supposed to say? That she loved him, too? Even though she knew he didn’t feel the same way toward her?
But how could she explain to him that she had feelings for him now? How could she tell him that she cared for him so deeply, and yet she also feared what would happen when he left? What if he never returned to her? Or worse yet, what if he killed someone else while he was there? Could she ever live with that?
She looked into his eyes and found nothing but determination there. He waited for her response, his hand still cupping the side of her face. “All right,” she finally whispered. “We can go to bed together. But no funny stuff.”
He smiled and nodded and took her hand, pulling her toward the bedroom door. “I promise not to make you beg anymore.”
***
When they climbed into the narrow bunk and he lifted her onto the mattress, she expected him to lay her down gently, but instead, he tossed her onto her back and jumped on top of her. She grabbed him by the shoulders and rolled him over.
When he got to his feet, she quickly scooted out from under him and hurriedly sat up in the bed. “Wait! There has to be something I should tell you…”
“Tell me what?” He reached for her again.
“It’s… complicated. Let me think for a minute.” She looked around the room for her clothing, and then remembered that it was still on the floor near the doorway. After getting dressed, she turned back to see him kneeling beside the bed.
She wondered what he was doing and then realized what he’d done—he’d picked up every article of clothing he’d thrown on the floor and now he held them against his chest as he stood there with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. “You don’t want your clothes,” she guessed.
“They’re stained with blood. And my horse died today.”
He spoke in such a somber tone that she didn’t know if he meant it or not. Did he really lose one of his horses? Was that even possible? It seemed incredible that anyone could lose a horse in a small town like this, let alone two of them in a matter of days. “Are you serious?” She walked closer and knelt beside him. “I’m sorry, sir.”
With a sigh, he lowered himself back down to the floor where she’d been standing only moments earlier. “No, don’t be sorry.” He placed his hands in his lap and watched her through narrowed lids. “If I hadn’t brought you here, you would have probably lost your ranch someday anyway.”
“Sir?”
“You know when this is all over. This time of year makes everything harder. Everything is dead and dried out. Nothing grows.”
Her eyes searched his face. “What does that mean?”
“This is just the start of winter. Once the snows come, it’s going to get even colder. The animals will die. People will die.” His voice was soft, and she thought she heard a hint of sadness in his words.
She touched his arm to comfort him and felt how cold he was. Her fingers sank into his jacket sleeve and found bare skin underneath. A chill ran up her spine at the realization that he wore no undershirt. She pulled her hands away before they became covered in snow dust.
He cleared his throat and looked at her, searching her expression. “Don’t be afraid. They’ll be fine.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I know how strong they are.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay.” But she wasn’t sure what to think about all this. She didn’t understand what he was saying or why he was talking in riddles.
“Didn’t you hear me?” He looked hurt by her lack of understanding.
“Yes, I did hear you. But—”
“And yet I’ve been explaining myself to you, and you haven’t said anything except for an occasional uh huh.” He looked at her sternly, waiting for her reply.
She bit her lower lip and considered how best to respond. “I’m sorry, I’m tired. It’s hard trying to figure out what you’re thinking and feeling with you so quiet.”
His mouth formed a thin line and for once, he appeared angry rather than sad. “I am not being quiet!” He grabbed the back of his head and squeezed until she feared his skull might crack open. “That’s what I’m always like. You must have forgotten.”
She tried to pull his hands away from his hair but couldn’t seem to budge him. “Sir, please, stop.”
“You should have remembered then,” he muttered angrily. “It’s not like I had any trouble remembering.” With a curse, he pushed off the wall and stormed out of the room and disappeared into the barn without another word.
She sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do next, wondering if maybe he was right after all. Maybe she had no idea what he really felt about her. If that were the case, then she needed to make herself clear.
So she waited for him to return and took the opportunity to go to the window to look outside. She wanted to see his face as soon as she told him what she intended to do. That way she wouldn’t regret anything later.
As she leaned against the side of the house, a movement caught her eye and she noticed a dark object lying on the ground near the barn. Something black… She moved closer, wondering if it was one of her boots, but when she got closer, she saw that it wasn’t her boot, but rather a man’s.
A cowboy by the looks of it, wearing faded jeans and a brown plaid shirt. His hat lay next to him on the frozen ground. She stared at the body, which had already begun to turn gray with frostbite, and knew she couldn’t wait anymore.
He was still alive, but barely. She knelt beside him, brushed aside the dirt and straw that covered his face, and gently pulled the scarf away so that he could breathe. Then she lifted his chin and wiped the snow from his lips. “Hang on, cowboy, I’m coming.”
***
The wind whistled past them as they walked toward the barn. They both wrapped their arms around themselves. She held the blanket tightly in her grasp as if it could somehow protect them from the bitter winds sweeping across the valley.
A few more steps brought them within sight of the barn doors. She stopped abruptly and glanced over her shoulder. “Are you all right? Your nose is bleeding again.”
“I’m fine.” He pulled the scarf tighter around his neck and continued walking.
After she made sure he was okay, she went inside and closed the door behind her. The lantern light illuminated the interior of the barn and cast a warm glow over the stalls where horses and cattle stood shivering in the cold.
With a start, she realized that the only animals she’d seen so far were chickens. The ranch had plenty of livestock, but they weren’t visible unless someone opened the barn doors. There were no telling how many horses, cows, sheep, goats, or other beasts lived here.
She searched through the stalls and found nothing that would help him. Most likely, he hadn’t been alone during his ordeal. Horses were large and could easily overpower a lone man. She wished she could ask him about his companion—if he even had a friend left in Wyoming.
The smell of fresh hay filled the air. The horses in the stall nearest her whinnied when they smelled her. She smiled as one of the mares nudged her with her muzzle and nuzzled her cheek.
“What’s wrong? Are you afraid?” She reached up with her hand and rubbed her fingers over the horse’s velvety nose. “We won’t harm you.”
“Don’t be alarmed.” When the animal kept pressing its muzzle against her palm, she decided to try something different. “Come on, let’s go feed you.”
“Feed me?”
She followed the direction of his gaze and realized he hadn’t seen the trough in front of him. “This is a horse trough.”
“Why are we feeding horses?”
She laughed. “It seems like such an unusual thing for us to do. Come on, follow me. I’ll show you how to feed horses.”
They approached the trough and he watched in awe as she put a handful of oats into the bucket and poured water from the bucket over top of them. “That’s not so hard.”
“Yes it is! How can a single person pour two buckets of water from one container into another?”
She frowned at him as if she couldn’t believe he’d asked. “Because it’s impossible!”
“So why did you do it?”
“How should I know? Just watch and learn.” She took the other bucket and repeated the process until every horse in the barn was satisfied. “Now, you do it.”
His brows furrowed as he tried to remember what she’d shown him. Finally, with a grunt, he took the bucket and poured water over the oats. “This is much harder than it looks. Is there any way to make this easier?”
“No, not really,” she said, taking his bucket and doing the work herself. “You have to get used to it.”
As she walked away with the empty bucket, she saw his face contorted in concentration as he poured the last of the oats into the trough. He must be exhausted. It seemed impossible that he could still walk after all the events of the day.
By the time they got back outside, the sun had gone down and the temperature had dropped below freezing. She hurried him into the house and shut the door behind her before the wind could freeze them both. After putting the kettle on the stove, she went into his room and pulled the blanket from under the bed, and spread it out over his legs.
He lay motionless and she wondered how well he could tolerate the cold. His hands looked red and raw when she lifted his fingers and examined the backs. She’d never seen anything so ugly in her life. The skin was split and blistered, probably from trying to fight off the men who attacked him.
She turned on his lamp and placed his medicine next to the bedside table along with a glass of water. “Here you go.” She leaned over him as she spoke. “Let me look at your hands.”
When he didn’t move, she shook his arm lightly. “Wake up. I need to see what happened.”
For a moment, he looked lost in sleep as if he might never wake up again. Then, as she pulled away the blanket, she saw his eyes open and he sat up in bed.
“Did I fall asleep?”
“It’s late.” She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Almost midnight.”
“Oh.” He ran his hand over his face. “I’m sorry.”
“What time is it in Boston?”
“Nine o’clock at night.”
“I hope you got some rest.”
“Enough. I don’t want to feel as bad as I look.” He reached for his glasses. “Where am I?”
“Your home, in Cheyenne, Wyoming.”
“Is someone watching over me?”
She nodded. “Yes, me and a few others.” She explained about her job and what had happened earlier in the day when the sheriff caught up with them. “And now, we’re just trying to find a safe place for you to recover.”
“Thank you for helping me.” He stared at the ground, avoiding eye contact. “I’ve never felt such pain.”
She waited for him to look back up at her. “There’s more good news than you realize. If it hadn’t been for my brother, I would have died today. I owe him everything.”
A frown wrinkled his forehead as he thought about what she’d told him. “My name is Charles Morgan.”
“Charles? That’s an unusual name.”
He shrugged. “Just a coincidence.”
She smiled and touched his cheek. “I think it’s a beautiful name.”
She heard footsteps coming from the doorway. At first, she assumed it was one of their friends and she held her breath waiting for whoever it was to step into the room and see her sleeping beside Charles. But the steps were too heavy and the voices too loud.
She rose and peeked around the corner as two men entered the room carrying guns in each hand. She recognized one man as Jim Rourke, the lawman who rode with John. Another man, dressed in black, stood by the door.
A third, shorter, and younger-looking man wore a white shirt, vest, and jacket, which seemed odd since everyone else in town was in western attire. All three men were grinning broadly as they looked down on the unconscious man lying in the bed.
They moved aside to let the others through. One man carried a lantern, illuminating the room. “Well, well,” Jim said. “Who do we have here?” He grinned wickedly. “Looks like Mr. Tough Guy is out of commission.”
“Shut up!” Rourke growled. “Keep your mouth shut unless you want trouble.”
The man in the vest laughed. “Maybe he can’t hear us.”
Rourke glared at them both. “That’s enough out of you, Pete.” He stepped closer to Charles and bent over to examine his head. “I don’t know how he made it this far with a concussion.” When he finished, he turned back toward the other two men. “We should tie him up and put him in the wagon. Maybe he’ll wake up in Denver.”
Before they left, the younger man stopped beside her. His hair was short and gray as if he was older than either of them. “Are you sure we shouldn’t take him to a doctor?”
She hesitated as she gazed down at the wounded man. “I believe he has the same symptoms as when I found him in New York City.”
The young man’s eyebrows arched high over his dark brown eyes. “Really?”
She nodded. “His nose is bleeding again.”
Pete laughed. “You mean he’s still bleeding?”
When she ignored his comment, the men walked past her toward the door. “Don’t worry about anything else,” Jim said. “We’ll handle all that for you.” He paused as his gaze fell over her and then returned to the other two men. “Come on, boys.” With a grin, he added, “I’ve got a nice little cabin reserved for us just outside of Cheyenne.”
The End