The Moon and the Stars Page 10

  He blew his breath through the Colt chamber and spun it around again. Then he thought about how he could always tell what Caroline was thinking by the way she smiled. If she was amused, her blue eyes sparkled. And when she was angry, they were like gathering storm clouds. He was entranced by the delicate gestures she made with her hands when she was attempting to make a point about something. He could not imagine those hands pulling a trigger to kill a man.

  He had watched her sleep last night, wondering how her hair would look if it fell freely down her back. He ached to touch her, not to just make love to her, although there was that too—he wanted to hold her body against his, to feel the softness of her skin, to feel the fullness of her lips against his.

  He wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her.

  He took a deep breath. Caroline Duncan was the last female he could ever get tangled up with. He was taking her to Charleston to face her accusers, no matter what.

  He slid bullets in the six chambers of the Colt and then with more force than was required, he shoved the gun into his holster.

  He was trying to remember the faces of some of the women who had warmed his bed over the years, and there had been plenty of them. But at the moment he could not remember a one—none of them had left a lasting impression. No woman had ever touched that certain part of him that had come alive with Caroline. In the past, when a woman pleased him, he would stay with her a day, maybe two, but no longer than that. He had not been with a woman in over five months. He had not wanted another woman since the package with Caroline’s picture had come to him in the mail.

  He leaned back against his saddle. Caroline was different from any other woman he had known. He flattered himself that he was a good judge of character, and unless she was the best actress he had ever met, he could not see her taking anyone’s life.

  She was within sight now, and her footsteps sounded lighter, perhaps she had lost some of her anger. He closed his eyes, pretending to be resting. She was trying to move quietly so she would not disturb him, but he heard her when she draped her clothing over the branches of a tree.

  When she sat down to remove her boots and pour the sand out of them, he opened his eyes to watch her. He wondered what she thought about as she stared across the river. She was barefoot and clutched the blanket about her as if it were a lifeline. He already knew how soft she felt, and his imagination had stripped off her undergarment. Her wet hair fell down her back, and he wanted nothing as badly as he wanted to kiss each golden strand.

  He rolled to his feet. His problem was probably nothing more than being in the wilderness alone with a woman he could not touch.

  She turned her head and gave him a small smile. That was almost his undoing. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until his hunger for her was satisfied.

  Instead, he pulled his rifle out of the holster. “Do not be startled if you hear gunfire. I will try to bring back fresh meat for dinner.” He slung the rifle over his shoulder and turned back to her. “Do not go near the horses. I will have them in my sight.”

  She glared at him but said nothing.

  When Wade returned to camp an hour later, his heart rate had settled back to normal. Caroline was wearing her trousers, and her hair was twisted into a tight bun at the back of her neck.

  She knelt beside the campfire and nodded. “It’s a good thing I opened a can of beans since you returned empty-handed.”

  He looked beyond her into the darkness. “My mind was not on hunting tonight.”

  “I know. I have been thinking about that man, too. Do you think he will come back?”

  “No. He will run that horse until he gets to the nearest town.”

  She gave a short laugh, and said in a teasing tone, “He was rather afraid of you. You are such a big, bad man.”

  He laughed. “And you are not as good a swimmer as you led me to believe.”

  She spooned beans onto his plate and handed it to him. “Who does the cooking for you when you are at home?” she asked, sitting cross-legged and holding her plate on her lap.

  He took a bite and nodded in approval. “Mary cooks for me.”

  Disappointment hit her like a fist. He had said he wasn’t married, but she hadn’t thought he would be living with a woman. She could not have said why she should care who he lived with, but she did.

  “Mary Murphy is as Irish as they come and an excellent cook. She is fifty years old, runs my house, and tries to run my life.” He did not usually share facts about his private life with anyone. He wondered why he had told Caroline Duncan about his housekeeper.

  “Does she know that you go hunting for innocent people so you can collect the reward?”

  His reply was noncommittal, “Some might believe that, but Mary would not.”

  Caroline suddenly cried out in alarm and knocked her plate onto the ground when something fell off the tree and plopped onto her sleeve. She was frozen with fear as the little green creature regarded her with round curious eyes.

  “Help me,” she pleaded. “Please get it off me!”

  Wade lunged toward her and gently gathered the creature in his hand. “This will not hurt you.” He placed the creature unharmed on the ground, and they both watched it scamper into the brushes.

  “What was it?”

  “It is merely a harmless lizard.” His mouth clamped shut, and she had the feeling it was to keep from laughing at her.

  He saw her visibly shiver. “I can’t abide anything reptilian.”

  He moved closer so he could sit beside her. “You should know after today that I will not let anything happen to you.”

  Lowering her head, she said softly, “It’s just that I am not accustomed to all of this.”

  She seemed so vulnerable, he felt a sudden rush of protectiveness toward her. “Why don’t you get some sleep? You hardly slept at all last night.” He eased back away from her and stood up. “I will douse the camp-fire.”

  Her gaze was glued to the spot where the creature had disappeared. “How are you going to arrange to turn me over to Brace?” She wasn’t sure if it was real or if she had imagined it, but she thought she saw him flinch. “You do have a plan, don’t you?”

  “Do you want me to make you another plate?” He bent to pick up the one she had dropped. “You hardly ate anything.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  After he put out the fire and cleaned the campsite, he spread out her blanket for her. “You should lie down.”

  “I’m not sleepy.”

  “Try not to think about your brother-in-law tonight.”

  “That’s all I do think about.”

  He had a sudden suspicion. “You do not have a fondness for him, do you?”

  She gave him a disgusted glare. “He is the last man in the world I could feel anything for except revulsion. As you already know, he will stop at nothing to get his hands on me.”

  He wanted to know more about her, and she seemed willing to talk tonight. He was curious about many aspects of her life. Mostly he wondered what had driven her to kill her husband. He was beginning to wonder if Brace Duncan had not been honest with him about Caroline.

  “Why do you think he wants you back? Is it so he can turn you over to the law?”

  She leaned her head back against the tree. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  “Brace was actually my husband’s stepbrother, not his real brother. His mother, Lilly, married Michael’s father, so you see, the two of them were not related by blood.”

  “But they did have the same last name.”

  She nodded. “My husband’s father never actually adopted his stepson. Brace took his last name anyway.” She paused, not knowing how much to tell Wade, or how much he would believe. “Brace thought he would inherit a portion of the Duncan estate when Mr. Duncan died. But everything went to my husband.”

  “And your husband’s possessions should, by law, now belong to you.”

  “Yes.”


  “Tell me what he was like, this man you married.” He didn’t know why he had asked such a question, but he wanted to know about the man she must have loved at one time.

  “Michael was gentle and kind, and certainly no match for Brace’s scheming treachery.”

  “You mean he was weak,” Wade taunted, hoping he could goad her into telling him what he needed to know. “A coward,” he said with a contemptuous curl to his lip.

  “No! Do not ever say such a thing to me about Michael.” Her tone was sharp, her manner indignant, and her eyes sparked like a hammer on an anvil as she defended her dead husband. “How dare you suggest such an outrageous notion? I grew up with Michael, and I should know what kind of man he was. I have never met another man with his compassionate nature.” She paused and said in a painful whisper. “Until his spirit was crushed.”

  A funny feeling crept up the back of Wade’s neck, the kind of feeling he always got when he was about to learn something important. “Who crushed his spirit?”

  She turned her anger on him. “Why should I tell you? You couldn’t possibly understand a man like Michael, because you judge everyone by your own standards. He would never have treated a woman the way you have treated me. So don’t tell me he was weak, but rather concentrate on your own imperfections. Brace is the kind of man who is not happy unless he is causing someone pain. He delighted in killing and torturing his own mother’s pet lapdog. He set fire to the stable, killing twelve horses, because he was jealous that a stallion he coveted belonged to Michael!”

  She jumped to her feet and turned away from him. “Leave me alone!”

  He followed her and stood just behind her. “I believe you are about to tell me that Brace Duncan killed your husband.”

  She defiantly turned her head and met his gaze. “You can draw your own conclusions. I will tell you nothing more. But you have been made a fool of by Brace. The mighty Wade Renault—the mere name made that man today quake with fear and throw down his gun. You have been outsmarted by Brace Duncan!”

  She stalked over to her saddle and picked up the yellow slicker. “Did you go to the authorities in Charleston and ask them how my husband died?”

  He had that feeling at the back of his neck again. “When a family member tells me how a crime was committed, I usually take his word for it.”

  She unfolded the clipping and stared at it for a moment. “Brace has told different versions of what happened that night, but he has yet to tell the truth.” She handed him the newspaper article. “This is only one version—he told you another.”

  He quickly read the old article and glanced up at her. “Brace told me this himself. He said that he had tried to protect you in the beginning. According to him, his conscience has been bothering him. He worried that his brother could not be buried in consecrated ground because everyone believed the lie that he took his own life. Perhaps you can tell me the truth.”

  She sat down and lowered her head. “It has been a very long day.”

  He was not ready to give up his questioning. He had to know her side of the story. “What happened that day, Caroline?”

  She shook her head in disgust. “I don’t feel that it’s my duty to enlighten you. You are Brace’s hired gun.”

  He would act as if he believed the death was a suicide and see if she took the bait. “Perhaps the newspaper article is the true version of what happened. Perhaps your husband did take his own life.”

  “No, he didn’t. Michael would never do such a thing.”

  “How did Michael feel about Brace?”

  She laced her fingers together and stared at her hands. “You are the supposed marvel—find out for yourself, or better still, ask Brace if you are gullible enough to believe anything he says.”

  “Tell me just this one thing,” he roughly demanded. “Do you have your husband’s money hidden away somewhere?”

  She held out her arms. “Search me.”

  “Then does Brace have the money?”

  She shook her head. “No. And he never will find it.”

  “Is the money important to him? Surely he inherited a portion of the estate from his stepfather.”

  “Mr. Duncan left him nothing. He did leave Brace’s mother a small sum, and the right to live on the estate during her lifetime. With good reason, Mr. Duncan didn’t like his stepson very much.”

  Wade could smell the clean scent of soap in her hair, and it was distracting him. “And just why was that?”

  “He saw through Brace, and you didn’t.”

  “You expect me to believe you?”

  “No. I don’t. You kidnapped me, and then accused me of killing my husband. You are the last man I would expect to believe me. But just suppose for a moment, this one time, you are wrong. Why would I kill someone I wanted to help?”

  He frowned, looking into her eyes as if he could find the truth reflected there. “Are you trying to tell me that you married Michael Duncan because you wanted to help him?”

  Wade had come too close to the truth, and she blurted out, “I don’t want to discuss my husband with you. I’m very tired.”

  “Yes, I see that you are.” Again the gentleness had crept into his voice. “You must rest.”

  She raised tear-damp eyes to him. “I was in over my head with the cruelty I had witnessed in my husband’s house. I could not fight the evil, and in the end, may God forgive me, instead of staying and demanding justice, I ran for my life. And now I am going back to face the man who destroyed everything.”

  Wade reached out and gripped her arm. “And I can see that you are more afraid of Brace Duncan than you are of me.” His grip tightened. “I wonder why that is.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment. She noticed that he looked exhausted, and realized he probably hadn’t had much sleep either. Good! “Neither you nor Brace has given me any reason to trust you.”

  A long moment passed before he nodded. “I was merely curious.”

  “Don’t ask me any more questions, because I won’t tell you anything else. Let Brace be the source of your information.”

  Briefly his eyes closed, and his hand dropped away from her arm. He stalked off into the dark. He had a lot of heavy thinking to do.

  Caroline watched him disappear into the night. Every move he made was slow, thoughtful, and calculated. He never did anything without first thinking it through. She wondered if he would make love with the same intensity he applied to his occupation. Shivers of delight ran up her spine, and she felt a tightening inside just imagining what he would be like if he made love to her. Slow, measured, attentive.

  Was she crazy?

  She would rather have a rattlesnake coiled up beside her than have him touch her!

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to be honest with herself. Every day she spent with him made the ache inside her grow worse. If he touched her at the moment, she would probably melt into his arms.

  She was disgusted with herself. She had to get a grip on her feelings. She took several deep breaths and opened her eyes, staring at the star-sprinkled night, reminding herself that he would as soon shoot her as make love to her.

  At least he had a clear head, even if she didn’t. He certainly never thought of her as a woman. Wade Renault was the prefect, cold-blooded bounty hunter, and he only saw her as his prisoner.

  Chapter Eleven

  Caroline had awakened that morning feeling as if her head were going to explode. After a cup of coffee, she felt somewhat better, but she dreaded the thought of getting back in that saddle—mostly she dreaded the handcuffs.

  They were riding at a fast pace now, stopping only once to rest and water the horses at a small stream. It seemed to Caroline that Wade was strangely quiet, as if he had a lot on his mind.

  It was an hour later when they descended a steep hill to rougher terrain dotted with oak trees and cactus. She felt a yank on the handcuffs every time her horse took a step.

  Suddenly her stalwart little filly stumbled down a hill and
almost unseated Caroline before she could bring the animal under control.

  “This horse needs to rest,” she said, slumping over the saddle, her heart beating fast. “And so do I.”

  Wade swung out of the saddle and with long strides came to her. He bent his head to unlock the cuffs, then lifted her into his arms. “Ma chère, are you hurt?”

  In a surprising move, he laid his cheek against hers, and her breath became trapped inside her chest. “While you may be superhuman, I am not, and neither is this horse.” She was surprised she could speak at all with him holding her so close.

  “You are such a small woman, and this has been too much for you.” His eyes were full of guilt because he had pushed her so hard. “You can rest for a while.”

  Her head fell back on his shoulder, and she had the feeling that she would like to stay there forever. She felt his warm breath stir a lock of hair at her cheek, and she turned her face to press it against his neck. “I was not hurt, but I was afraid the horse was going to fall.”

  With steady steps he carried her to an oak tree and placed her down in the shade. He knelt beside her and tilted her face up to him. “You would tell me if you had been injured, would you not? I know how stubborn you are.”

  “I was just scared.” She looked into his eyes and saw genuine concern reflected there. “It is difficult to handle the animal with my hand cuffed.”

  “I do not want to put the cuff on you, but you have assured me that you will escape if presented with the chance.”

  “It was a promise, and I always keep my word. Anyone who knows me can tell you that.”

  He gazed into her blue eyes as if hoping they would give up their secrets. “I believe you.” He rose to his full height, his demeanor suddenly cold and distant.

  “I may yet elude you, Mr. Renault. It is best that you keep the cuffs on me.”

  His jaw tightened. “I must see if your horse was hurt in the mishap. If all goes well, we will reach San Antonio by early afternoon.”