The Touch of Fire Read online

  Yes, she wanted him. But to give in to him, and to her own baser yearnings, would be the worst mistake of her life. He was an outlaw, and would soon disappear from her life; she would have to be a total fool to give herself to him and run the risk of bearing an illegitimate child, as well as the damage it would do her emotionally.

  She steadied her voice, and took the route of common sense. “It would be a mistake for me to accept your advances. I think we both know that.”

  “Oh, I know it,” he muttered. “I just don’t like it worth a damn.”

  “That’s the way it has to be.”

  “Then kiss me good night, honey. That’s all I’m asking.”

  Hesitantly she turned her head, and he took her mouth in a slow, strong motion that opened her lips and left her vulnerable to the penetration of his tongue. If a kiss was all he was allowed, then he intended to make the most of it. He forced his domination on her mouth with hard, deep kisses, using his tongue in the most blatant imitation of copulation, until her bound hands came up and twisted and she was clinging to his shirt while soft little whimpers sounded in her throat. He kissed her until his entire body was throbbing with the need to empty his seed inside of her, until her mouth was swollen and tears seeped from beneath her lashes.

  He wiped the moisture away with his thumb, savagely restraining himself. “Go to sleep, honey,” he whispered in a hoarse voice.

  Annie half stifled a moan. She closed her eyes, but it was a long time before her yearning flesh let her sleep.

  CHAPTER

  6

  He wasn’t there when she woke up the next morning, and Annie panicked at the thought that he might have abandoned her there in the mountains. Her hands were unbound and that frightened her even more, for why would he have untied her unless he had planned on leaving? Still half asleep, with her hair hanging in her eyes, she stumbled to her feet and jerked the door open, then ran outside. Cold air swirled around her bare legs and rocks and twigs bruised her feet. “Rafe!”

  He stepped out from the horse shed, the water bucket in one hand and the raised pistol in the other. “What is it?” he asked sharply, as his pale eyes raked over her.

  She halted her headlong plunge, suddenly aware of her half-naked state and the iciness of the ground beneath her bare feet. “I thought you’d left,” she said in a strained tone.

  His eyes turned frosty as he stared at her, his hard face expressionless. Finally he said, “Go back inside.”

  She knew she should do as he said, but concern made her hesitate. “How do you feel? I don’t think you should be hauling water yet.”

  “I said to get inside.” His voice was dead level, but it carried the sharpness of a whiplash. She turned and carefully picked her way back inside, wincing as the rough ground hurt the tender soles of her feet.

  She propped open one of the windows so she’d be able to see, then examined her clothing. It was stiff and wrinkled, but dry and—best of all—clean. She hurriedly dressed, shivering with cold. The chill seemed worse than it had the morning before, but maybe that was because she’d been outside with only a shirt between her and the good Lord, and Rafe hadn’t built up the fire before he’d gone out.

  After she had finger-combed her hair and pinned it up, she built up the fire and began cooking breakfast, but her movements were automatic. She couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe, disjointed thoughts that leapt from subject to subject. He had looked much better this morning, without fever dulling his eyes and leaving his face drawn. It was probably too soon for him to be doing any physical work, but how was she supposed to stop him? She just hoped he didn’t tear out the stitches in his side.

  How had he gotten out of the cabin without waking her? Of course, it had taken her a long time to fall asleep and she’d been very tired, but she usually wasn’t that hard to waken. He had lain awake for a long time, too; he hadn’t tossed and turned, but she had been very aware of the tension in his arms and body as he’d held her. It would have taken only a single word or gesture of invitation from her and he would have been on top of her.

  Several times she had been tempted to throw caution to the winds and say that word, and shame rose in her as she admitted to herself how close she had come to surrendering her chastity to an outlaw. She couldn’t even comfort herself that she had resisted temptation because of her high moral standards, to preserve her reputation and self-respect; it was pure cowardice that had kept her from giving herself to him. She had been afraid. Part of it had been a simple fear of the unknown, and part of it had been fear that he would hurt her, emotionally as well as physically. She had treated women who had been damaged by men who were too careless or too rough, and she knew that the first time was painful for women anyway, but she had ached with lust and might have given in had it only been that. She wanted to know what it was like, to lie under a man and cradle his hard weight, to accept his body into hers.

  But her deepest fear was that she was far too vulnerable to him, that by taking her body he would breach the inner walls that guarded her heart, and against all of her own self-advice and common sense she would care too much for him, and that would deal her a wound that wouldn’t heal as easily as flesh did. How could she let herself care for him? He was an outlaw, a killer. Even now, she had no doubt that, if she tried to escape, he would shoot her. It was odd, perhaps, but she also trusted him to keep his word and return her unharmed in a few days if she didn’t try to escape.

  Annie had always thought of herself as a morally upright person, capable of knowing right from wrong and choosing the correct course. For her, morality had nothing to do with judgment and everything to do with compassion. But what did it say about her that she could so clearly see the violence in Rafe McCay and had still been strongly attracted to him from the beginning? He was cold and frighteningly controlled, and as dangerous as a hunting cougar, yet his kisses made her tremble and yearn for more. A little voice in her whispered that she could give herself to him, then return to Silver Mesa without anyone knowing that she had had an outlaw lover, and she was terrified she would yield to temptation.

  The door opened but she kept her eyes and her attention focused on what she was cooking. Rafe set the bucket down beside the hearth. Annie glanced at it and saw that it was full of water. From experience, she knew just how heavy that bucket was, and she couldn’t stop the concern she felt. Reluctantly she asked again, “How do you feel?”

  “Hungry.” He closed the door and dropped to the blanket. “Almost normal. Just like you said.”

  She gave him a quick glance. His tone had been even, without any of his former sharpness, but she knew that his voice would reveal only what he wanted it to. “I didn’t say you would be almost normal. I said you’d feel better.”

  “And I do. Even after taking care of the horses, I’m not as weak now as I was yesterday. But the stitches are itching.”

  That was a good sign, an indication of healing, but she hadn’t expected it so soon. Evidently he was a fast healer, as well as having the inhuman stamina he had revealed on their nightmare ride to the cabin.

  “Then you’re almost well.” She looked at him, her eyes somber and a little pleading. “Will you take me back to Silver Mesa today?”

  “No.”

  That single word was implacable. Annie’s shoulders drooped a little. It would have been for the best, removing her from the dangerous temptation of his company, but she didn’t try to argue with him. He had his own reasons for what he did and she had yet to be able to sway him from his decisions. He would return her to Silver Mesa when he wanted to, and not before.

  Rafe watched her with hooded eyes as she poured a cup of coffee and handed it to him. He sipped the strong brew, enjoying the feel of it warming his insides and adding to the heat he already felt just from looking at her. She was uneasy around him this morning, in a way she hadn’t been before even when she had been so terrified he was going to kill her. She was sexually aware of him now, and as skittish as a young mare being cornere