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Fred did not sleep. Carrie's kisses had burned through his body like a wildfire, leaving him wide awake and anxious. He moved to the log he had shared with her just a few hours before. The sun was still down, but it would rise soon and a new day would begin.
This is bad.
For this first time in his life, Fred didn't know what to do.
He had always prided himself on being able to figure out most any situation. When his mother was ill and the doctors had said she would die, he had forced her to eat. Sat by her side and ordered her fever to calm, applying cool, damp cloths and any home medicines the women in town cared to offer him. He had refused to give up, and she had lived.
When he had lost his job at the haberdashery in the middle of his mother's illness—the scoundrel owner would not listen to reason when he'd told him his mother was ill— he had kept his head. Many men would have turned to drink or women. Fred had decided to come up with a solution. He'd stolen some cattle in his youth. It had been easy. Why not make a career of it?
Then things had begun to get messy. Roy Cardwell had paid him to rob the Bowman Bank. The others had gotten caught and he'd escaped by the shine of his teeth. He'd made yet another poor decision when deciding to ride with Abel and the others. Robbing stagecoaches and holding up women and men who had never bothered him was not respectable. He much preferred the cattle stealing. At least then he was not hurting anyone.
Carrie sighed and rolled over onto her back. Her arm stretched out at her side and searched the blanket beside her for something.
"Fred," she murmured, still asleep. Her eyes did not open. She giggled and rolled back onto her side.
Carrie was a complication. He had wanted a simple mail order bride. A woman who would do what needed doing. The problem, he saw now, was that Carrie was not a woman who liked being told what to do. It both attracted him to her and made her unsuitable for his needs.
She let out a loud snore and Fred's heart stilled. He bent over at his waist and covered his mouth as a loud peal of laughter escaped him. He did not want to wake her.
His emotions were so mixed, he could not think clearly. The shadows of late night, early morning, fell across her face, taking his breath away as they highlighted her cheekbones, her nose, her lips. He wanted her, in no uncertain terms. It was the only thing he knew without a doubt. He wanted Carrie Ackerman, body and mind, all to himself.
Were he to marry her, he did not know how he could part from her. He would have to, though. She would need to stay with his mother, but... there would be visits. Secret rendezvous. Carrie let out another snore, even louder than the first. Fred made his decision.
When the sun finally rose in the sky, he already had meat sizzling upon the fire.
"Good morning," he said.
She looked at him uncertainly. Her brow scrunched together in a way that both aroused and chafed him.
"Do you know that you have the most irritating habit of looking at me as if I were a madman? It vexes me almost as much as it excites me." He winked at her and her mouth opened. "Have you no morning kiss for your husband-to-be?"
Carrie stood, smoothed her dress out, and set her hands on her hips. "I have no kisses for someone who is an outlaw, a liar, and... and... and a villain."
She nodded her head for emphasis. Her hair was messy and wild, just like her eyes. He smiled at her, not at all put off by the words she used against him.
"My title of outlaw did not seem to bother you so much last night," he said, shooting her a look.
She blinked and the color rose in her cheeks. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "Did you... did we...?"
He paused with his stick in the fire as he checked their breakfast to see if it was ready.
"You don't remember?" he asked. She shook her head. Fred's uneasiness returned. "I see." He looked away from her. He did not want her to see that he'd been hurt. He did not know why he should be; he should have expected as much. The drink had gotten to her more than he'd realized, was all.
"I'm sorry if I did anything inappropriate," she said, wringing her hands together.
"You did nothing wrong," Fred told her, pulling the rabbit from the fire. "Eat. We have a long day ahead of us."
"So, we're still leaving for Helena today?"
"Yes. It should take no more than a day, perhaps two, to reach it, depending on how fast we move."
"That's fine. Thank you." She took a seat on the log and Fred cut her off a slice of meat. He handed it to her and she ate it greedily. Her lips called to him even now. His heart sped rapidly in his chest each time she smiled or looked his way.
"Once in Helena," Fred said, deciding on the instant to move forward with his plan, "I think we should be married straight away. It won't take long for someone to notice me." Carrie paused in her eating to look at him. "I have some friends we can go to for help, should we need it. They can witness for us at the ceremony. Perhaps you'd like to inquire of your sister. What is her name? Perhaps I know her."
"Married?" Carrie said. "To you?"
He nodded.
"But you are an outlaw."
"You knew that already when you first suggested we see a preacher."
"Yes, but I thought you were attempting to reform. I didn't know the whole truth of the matter."
"I see, and what is this truth you reference now, which prevents you from accepting my hand?"
"You are wanted as a murderer," she said simply. "And you have no intention of reforming. You said as much yourself."
Fred eyed her from his seat. "We have a contract. I plan to hold you to it."
She scoffed at him. "That contract is under a false name. Do you think it holds authority? I agreed to marry Duncan Lilliard, not Fred Connor."
"You would break your vow?"
"You have already broken many vows to me," she said, rising. The meat dropped from her lap. Her face turned red as a cherry. "How many more might you break if we were married?"
Fred's own anger flushed through his body. He rose to meet her. "You accuse me of lying and breaking vows, but aside from my name, I have never lied to you. I have told you from the beginning who I am. What I am. I have done no worse than you."
She stepped closer to him, her breath falling upon his face. He breathed in the honeyed scent, fighting the urge to pull her closer still.
"I... I..." she stammered. He liked that he had caught her with her own words. "I lied, yes," she said. "But I am no criminal. I shall not marry an outlaw. I shall not marry you. I loathe you."
Her pink tongue ran between even pinker lips, licking them lightly. The moisture stuck to her skin, making her mouth shine in the morning sun. Fred could not help himself. He pulled her to him and kissed her.
She fought him. He had to force her mouth open with his tongue. It slipped into her and he massaged her mouth, coaxing her own tongue to dance with his. She stopped fighting. Her hands wrapped around his neck. They dug into him, urging him forward.
He wrapped his arms around her waist. This was how he wanted her. Strong. Enticing. A woman who knew what she wanted. He liked that about her, that she was fearless. She pressed him closer; he held her tighter. Their lips moved together, soft sucking sounds escaping from them both as their bodies shuddered. His hand moved along her back, tracing her spine with the soft pads of his fingertips. She shivered.
Fred deepened their kiss, demanding things of her mouth that he had never demanded of any woman before. She complied, letting her tongue slip in and out of his mouth as though she were lapping at a saucer of milk. His hands held position at the bottom of her neck. They slid down her back now, to her waist... her hips... her bottom.
Carrie's eyes opened wide. She stepped away, her hand flying across Fred's face as she slapped him.
He stood stunned. Desire fled his body, replaced with the sting in his cheek.
"How dare you!" She folded her arms across her chest and turned away from him.
Fred stood a moment without speaking. He was gathering his thoughts, attempting to control his anger.
"You will not marry me?" he asked her.
"I won't."
"And you do not wish for me to touch you."
"I don't."
"Perhaps you prefer to be alone."
"I do."
Fred smiled. "Then by all means, find your own way to Helena. I shan't bother you again." With that, Fred turned away from her and gathered up his blankets. He rolled them into a bundle and attached them to Bessie's saddle. He could see her watching from the corner of her eye, her arms still folded angrily in front of her.
"What are you doing?" she finally asked when he mounted his horse.
"Leaving," he said, enjoying the way the surprise in her eyes turned to distress. "Your ankle seems healed well enough. There is no reason for me to stay." He paused. "Unless you don't wish me to go. You need only say the words, and I shall remain."
Carrie rolled her shoulders back and held her head haughtily in the air. "I shall say nothing of the kind. Do as you please."
"As you wish." He winked at her. He turned Bessie east, and together they headed off.
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