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"How are you feeling this morning?" Fred asked. Carrie looked at him with red eyes and offered a small smile.
She had slept poorly last night. He had watched her as she tossed and turned, wishing that he might lay beside her and comfort her the way he had that first night. It was a pity she did not remember it. He would never forget it.
She had lain limp in his arms as he carried her back to camp after pulling her from the hole. When he had finally arrived, he had set her gently on his blanket, pulling off her boots for a better look at her leg. He'd determined that nothing was broken, though her ankle was swollen more than he cared for. He'd wrapped it up and elevated it the way his mother had taught him and left her side to sit on a log.
She had kept moving. He'd been afraid she might hurt herself even more if she did not stop. Eventually, he had lain next to her just to prevent her from rolling around. He'd wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her close. Then he'd caught the scent of her hair. Even dirtied as it was, she still smelled like lilacs. It must have been some sort of woman's trick, but he could not get enough of it. He couldn't explain it, but it made him feel safe. Whole. He'd fallen asleep with his head buried against her.
"I'm fine," she told him.
"Liar."
She blinked, then laughed. "All right. My ankle still hurts, but it is not as bad as it was. The last three days have done wonders. You are a gifted healer."
"I only know what my mother taught me."
"You speak of her often," Wilma said. "She must be a wonderful woman."
"She is." He paused, moving the sticks around until they were spread out to his satisfaction. He would have a fire going in no time. "She's been ill," he finally said.
"What's wrong with her?"
"She had the fever some time back. Almost took her from me. She's a strong woman though, came through it all right, but it left her weak."
"Who's caring for her now?" Wilma asked, concern in her voice.
"Friends," Fred said, leaving it at that. The foiled bank robbery was far too much to go into.
She nodded, her blond hair swaying gently around her shoulders. He had helped her down to a stream the other day so that she might wash. He'd stood discreetly off in the distance, waiting for her to call him back. It had taken all his willpower not to peek. Seeing her wetted down like that when she was through, her skin glistening as the sun shone upon her, had made his heart smack against his chest. He could not explain why everything she did appealed to him so.
"I'm sorry to hear of your troubles," she said, biting her bottom lip. Fred's eyes drifted from her mouth to her chest, back to her eyes. "That is no reason to lead the life you do," she said quickly. He could tell she'd been building up to it. Developing the nerve to tell him what he'd so often heard.
"I lead the life I do because circumstances dictate it."
"What does that mean?" she asked, her eyes glowering. The flare was rising in her cheeks. She never looked as beautiful as when she was agitated with him.
"It means that I have no money. My father ran off when I was but two. My mother worked hard all her life for me. I've had to care for her by any means necessary."
"Even stealing?" she demanded, rising onto her knees.
"Yes," he snapped. "Even that. I would do it again if I had to for someone that I loved."
"Your mother would not wish you to steal for her."
"Well, she has no say over it."
"If you had a wife, she would never allow such a thing."
"If I had a wife, I would not allow her to tell me what to do."
"Then you are lucky that I am not your wife. For I would never stop."
"If you never stopped," Fred said, kneeling before her and placing his hands on her shoulders, "then I might have to pull you over my knee and teach you a lesson."
Wilma's eyes widened. She bit her bottom lip.
"Bite your lip like that again, Miss Honeybee, and I may have to try it for myself to see what all the fuss is about."
Wilma's mouth opened in a silent "O." Her long, black lashes fluttered feverishly at him. She tried to pull away but he held her steady.
"You said you would not hurt me," she stammered.
"I won't," he said. "I only want to touch you. Your arm. Your cheek. I'd settle for a toe."
"Why?" Her breath came in rapid puffs.
"Because I cannot get you out of my head. You have invaded my mind. It is only right that I should invade your body. Particularly that lovely mouth of yours."
Wilma's eyes rose to meet his. She licked her lips. It was almost too much for Fred to bear. Had she tried to push him away, he would not have stopped her. But she didn't. She merely sat there, looking at him with blue eyes the color of a lake sunset.
"Fred, I have to tell you something."
Her words were cut short by the sound of horses. Fred released Wilma and looked over his shoulder. "Hide," he told her.
"What?" she asked, alarm flashing across her face. "Where? There's nowhere. What would you like me to—"
Fred clamped one hand over Wilma's mouth and scooped her into his arms. "Say nothing," he said urgently.
"Say nothing?" she squealed when he removed his hand. Fred groaned. "How can I say nothing? Who's coming? Is it them? Your partners?"
"Wilma, please, I beg of you to keep your pretty mouth shut."
Her eyes widened. She looked affronted. "I shall say whatever I please," she pouted. "If that's a sheriff or deputy riding toward us then—"
Fred cut her off with a kiss.
Her eyes widened. She tried to pull away. He held her to him, his mouth pushing swiftly and roughly against hers. He inhaled her scent—lilacs and roses. It was in her hair, on her skin. She was the essence of summer hillsides and springtime rainfall. A heavy pulse raced through his body. It swam up his veins from his hips to his head and back again. He ached with want.
He opened his mouth wider as she groaned against him. Her taste was pure honey. Her lips dripped with it. It pooled in her mouth and on her tongue. He lapped it up, devouring her sugar. He lightly bit her bottom lip, the way he had watched her do so often these last few days.
Her hands had stopped fighting him. Her fingers dug into his neck, clinging to him with an urgency that was not hers alone. She squirmed in his hands as he pressed her tightly to his chest. He could feel her own pulse racing within and knew she wanted him. If they had more time, he would taste the rest of her, but the horses were drawing nearer.
He broke the kiss. Her eyes were wide, wet. She was looking at him as though she were seeing for the first time. A new life, a new world. He knew how she felt.
He searched the forest around them and spotted a large tree no more than twenty yards away. He hurried toward it, laying her gently against it so that it's massive trunk hid her small frame.
"Whatever happens, do not move."
She nodded, biting her lip. He forced his feet to run the other way and made it back to the camp just as Abel's horse appeared.
"Hello," Fred said as Abel approached. Paul and Randall were just behind him. Abel got off his horse and pulled each of his boots off, shaking them out.
"We've been looking for you," Abel said.
"I've been here."
Abel shot him an irritated look. "I thought you said you would move camp."
Fred hesitated before speaking. He had to be careful. "I decided to stay," he said simply. It was usually best to keep answers short. There was less you could blunder.
"So, I see." He looked around the campsite, his eyes stopped on the pile of blankets Wilma had slept in. Fred's heart picked up its pace. Her boots were lying beneath it. Should Abel check for some reason... but he moved away and took a seat on the log.
"A stagecoach is coming," Abel said. "Tomorrow. Should be some time around sunup."
Fred nodded. "Good."
"I thought we'd make camp here for tonight, then move out first thing." Paul and Randall took seats on either side of Abel. He glowered at each of them as the log rolled around. They stood back up and leaned against a tree instead.
Fred frowned. Keep it together. Keep her safe.
"I can't join you this time," Fred said, attempting to sound upset about it. He forced a look of displeasure into his eyes.
"Oh?" Abel asked. Even sitting down, Abel looked like a giant. He was as wide as he was tall. "That a fact?"
"I just got word about my mother," Fred told them. "She's taken a turn."
"Sorry to hear that," Abel said, his eyes never leaving Fred's. "Who told you?"
"John," he said automatically. Abel knew the Bowmans were watching his mother.
"I'm surprised he found you so easily."
Fred shook his head. "Wasn't easy. He was looking for me for days, he said." Fred licked his lips. "Like you've said yourself, though. These woods aren't that big. If someone wants to find you bad enough, they will."
"Where's John now?" Abel asked.
"Couldn't stay. His wife is with child. Had to hurry back to her."
"Why didn't you go?"
Fred paused, thinking. "Bessie's been ill. I was going to give her the night to rest, then leave in the morning. This campsite is no good anyway. There's a trapper around here hunting bears. Came by a night or two ago. Says there's a big one around here." He knew Abel would never be able to prove he hadn't spoken to a trapper.
Abel frowned. "We passed that cheap trapper's hole back a ways. Paul almost fell in it."
Paul nodded. "I wouldn't have liked going down there."
Abel held his gaze steady a moment longer before rising. "We'll make our camp up where that stream breaks off into the river. About two miles north of here. If you change your mind, come find us."
"You're missin' out, Fred," Randall said. "It's a rich man's coach that's a comin'."
"He's a big boy," Abel snapped. Paul and Randall shut their mouths. They loaded back onto their horses and Fred heaved a sigh when they were gone.
He found Wilma just where he'd left her. She looked up at him like a frightened cat.
"I'm glad they're gone," she said, wringing her hands together. He lifted her up. She was able to walk a little now, but not much.
"We don't have time," he said. "We need to move camp in case they come back."
She nodded. Her lips quivered.
"What is it?" he asked impatiently.
"Are you sure you don't want to go with them?" she asked.
He scratched his head. "You confound me, do you know that? I thought you said my life of crime was bad. That I ought to give it up."
"I did!" she said, biting her bottom lip. "It is. It's just that... why aren't you going?"
He didn't get her. She seemed upset that he wasn't going to rob the stagecoach. "Because I'm not leaving you alone out here. You're still hurt and—"
She cut him off with a kiss. It surprised him so much that for a moment he didn't react. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed them into the small of her back. Her hips wiggled as she tried to balance on one leg. Without thinking about it, he lifted her bad leg, holding it beneath her knee. She gasped, then wrapped it around his back.
With her weight off her injured leg, she was free to move her hands around. She circled them around his chest, testing his muscles. His body hardened in response to her touch. He moved his mouth off her lips and to her neck, kissing her gently as she tilted her head to one side. She sighed softly, a melodic sound that reminded him of the song he'd heard her singing in the forest. She sighed it again and his body stiffened.
"If you make that sound again," he whispered into her ear, "I shall not be able to control myself."
Her eyes widened, and she pulled away from him, hiding a giggle.
"I am sorry," she said. "I don't know what came over me."
"Neither do I, but I hope it comes over you again."
"It's only that you took me by surprise," she said, casting her eyes down.
"I took you by surprise?"
Her soft eyes landed once again on his, shining blue as the sky. "You gave up that stagecoach... for me."
He smiled playfully back at her. "For you, I think I might do anything."
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