The Touch of Fire Read online

  Yet he was still only a man, for all his dangerousness. He was tired and ill, and despite the things he had done that had terrified her, he had not only not hurt her, he had seen to her comfort and safety to the best of his ability. She didn’t forget that it was to his advantage to keep her safe, or that any discomfort she suffered was purely his fault, but at the same time he hadn’t been as cruel or brutal as she had feared, or as many other men would have been. He had done and said things that had terrified her, but never from sheer cruelty; it was oddly reassuring that he always had a reason for doing what he did. She was beginning to feel that she could take him at his word: when he was recovered, he would take her back, unharmed, to Silver Mesa. On the other hand, if she tried to escape from him, she was equally certain that he would stop her in any way he could, including shooting her out of the saddle.

  “All right, it’s your turn now.”

  She turned around and saw that he was completely dressed, including his gun belt. His dirty clothes lay in a pile on the floor, and he had laid out a second clean shirt for her use.

  She stared at the shirt, caught in a dilemma. “Which do I wash first, myself or the clothes?”

  “The clothes,” he answered. “That way they’ll have more time to dry.”

  “And what do I wear while I’m washing them?” she asked drily. “If I put on your shirt now, it’ll get wet.”

  He shrugged. “What you do depends on how bad you want clean clothes.”

  She understood what he meant, and snatched up his clothes and the bar of soap without another word. She wasn’t in a very good mood as she marched to the stream and knelt down on the bank. He followed, and settled down about five yards away with the rifle resting across his lap. She set to work with grim determination, for the water was icy and her hands were numb in only a few minutes.

  She had wrung out his shirt and hung it over a bush to dry, and was scrubbing his pants, before she spoke. “It’s too cold for snakes. And bears, too, I presume. What are you guarding me from? Wolves? Mountain lions?”

  “I’ve seen bear out this early,” he replied. “A healthy wolf isn’t going to bother with you, but an injured one might. Same thing with mountain lions. You’d be in more danger if a man wandered through and stumbled on you.”

  She bent over and dunked his pants in the stream, watching the soap rinse away in a pale cloud. “I don’t understand men,” she said. “I don’t understand why so many of them are so senselessly cruel, how they can abuse a woman, child, or animal without giving it a thought but get killing mad if anyone accuses them of cheating at cards. That isn’t honor, that’s—I don’t know what it is. Stupidity, I guess.”

  He didn’t answer. His restless eyes continued to skim their surroundings. Annie struggled to wring the water out of the heavy garment, but her hands were cold and clumsy. He got up and took the pants from her, his strong hands effortlessly twisting the water out of the material. He shook them out and spread them over another bush, then took his seat again.

  She doused his underwear, then began soaping them.

  “Some people are just naturally bad,” he said. “Men and women. They’re born mean and they die mean. Others kind of drift into it, a little at a time. And sometimes they’re pushed.”

  She kept her head down, her attention on her chore. “What kind are you?”

  He thought about it. Finally he said, “I don’t reckon it matters.”

  It certainly didn’t matter to him. He had been pushed, but the way it had happened had ceased to mean anything. He had lost everything he had believed in and fought for, lost his family, seen the reason for it all turn bitter and crumble into dust, had been hounded across the country, but finally the reasons hadn’t counted for anything, only the reality. The reality was that he was constantly on the move, watching his back trail; he trusted no one, and he was willing to kill whoever came after him. Beyond that, there was nothing.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Washing her own clothes was so much trouble that accomplishing the task was a testament to her considerable determination. Keeping her back to him, she sat down and removed her stockings, then untied the tapes of her petticoat and drawers. When she stood, both garments slid down her legs and she stepped out of them. She refused to look at him to see if he had noticed; of course he had. The blasted man didn’t miss anything. Her cheeks were hot as she knelt again on the bank and began scrubbing her unmentionables. Irritated, she wished some of the heat in her face would transfer itself to her hands. How could water be this cold and still run?

  To wash her shift and blouse, she had to return to the cabin and change into his shirt. He remained outside, for which she was painfully grateful, but she still felt wretchedly exposed with the window coverings propped open and the chilly air washing over her bare breasts. She jerked his shirt on over her head as quickly as possible, and sighed in relief at the comfort of the soft wool covering her.

  The shirt was so huge on her that she was startled into a soft laugh. She buttoned every button, but the neck was still so loose that it exposed her collarbones. The hem hung to her knees, and the sleeves flapped a good six inches past her fingers. She began briskly rolling them up and laughed again, for when she rolled them up to her elbow there was practically no sleeve left, as the shoulder seam drooped down almost that far. “Do you have an extra belt?” she called. “There’s so much material here it’ll get in my way.”

  He appeared in the doorway as soon as she spoke, and she shivered as she realized he had been leaning against the cabin, just out of sight. He had been only a few feet away when she had been half nude. Had he looked? She didn’t want to know.

  He cut a few feet of rope and she tied it around her slim waist, then snatched up her remaining clothes and marched back to the stream, where she finished her laundry. Then she had to haul more water back to the cabin and begin heating it for her own bath. She was so exhausted that she wondered if it had been worth it, but she couldn’t have endured another day without washing.

  She also couldn’t endure bathing with the windows and door open, wondering if he were watching her. Not only that, it was too chilly, though it hadn’t seemed to bother him much when he had bathed. She closed the windows and built up the fire, then faced him defiantly. “I’m not bathing with an open door.”

  “Fine with me.”

  Her cheeks got hot again. “Or with you in here.”

  “Don’t you trust me to keep my back turned?”

  Distress darkened her soft brown eyes. Rafe reached out and cupped her chin, feeling her silky texture of her flesh. “I don’t turn my back on anyone,” he said.

  She swallowed. “Please.”

  He held her gaze while his thumb brushed lightly over the tender section beneath her chin. Annie felt herself begin to tremble, for he was standing far too close to her and she could feel the heat and tension of his big body. The bright, terrible clarity of his eyes made her want to shut her own to escape, but she was caught in paralyzed fascination and couldn’t. This close, she could see that his eyes were gray, like winter rain, without any softening blue tinge. Black and white specks gave his irises the impression of crystalline depth. Search as she might, she could find no compassion in that clear, cold gaze.

  He dropped his hand and stepped back. “I’ll be outside,” he said, and she nearly sagged with relief. He watched the play of expression across her face before adding, “Take off your skirt and I’ll wash it for you.”

  She hesitated, her longing for clean clothes battling with modesty. She couldn’t wear only his shirt for the length of time it would take her clothing to dry, but maybe she could fasten one of the blankets around her. Quickly, before she lost her courage, she turned her back on him and unfastened her skirt, grateful that he was such a large man and his shirt was so enveloping.

  Silently he took the skirt and left the cabin, closing the door behind him. As he walked down to the stream he pictured her bathing, and he was acutely aware of her na