Crista stared at him as she stepped away from the fireplace. She bumped into the side of the bed and dropped down to sit on it, her eyes still on him. She shouldn’t be startled by the sight of his naked chest, but finally seeing what she had only felt when she had been tucked against him on his horse did leave her speechless.
He was lean with muscles so taut you could see the veins in his arms. His midriff was muscled and hard as well and his skin a soft bronze color. He exuded strength, his muscles bunching and tightening with every movement as he hung the shroud and his dark shirt on hooks beneath the mantel.
He was attractive and tempting. Wasn’t that what the devil did—tempt?
He removed his boots and placed them close to the heat, then his hand went to the belt at his waist and slipped the leather strap out of the buckle.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I’m taking the last of my wet clothes off.”
“You can’t be naked in front of me,” she said, a warning to herself.
His dark eyes looked directly at her wide ones and proceeded to free himself of his trousers. “Don’t look.”
Crista slapped her hand over her eyes. “There’s a blanket there. You can wrap it around you.”
“Being naked doesn’t bother me,” he said, thinking he shouldn’t be teasing her like that, but not able to help himself. He liked seeing her cheeks glow red, shock turn her dark eyes wide, and watch her grow flustered. Or was it more than that? Was he actually trying to tempt her?
“It’s not proper for me to see any man but my husband naked and, since I’ve already been improper today, I don’t need to add any more impropriety to the day.”
“No one but you and me will ever know what went on here, Crista.”
That sounded like an invitation to her and she was quick to say, “There is nothing to know since nothing has happened.”
“You sit naked on a bed and I sit naked not far from you. That is something no one needs to know.”
Crista spread her fingers apart enough to get a glimpse of him and though he was naked, he sat on a chair with his side to her, preventing her from seeing his private parts.
“You will stay seated there?” she asked.
“For now,” he said.
She slowly moved her hand away from her eyes, though remained ready to close her eyes quickly.
“I would bring disgrace on my family if anyone learned of this and no marriage proposals would be forthcoming,” she said.
“That you survived your time with Diablo should be the only thing your family cares about,” he said with annoyance, hating to think of the gossip she would face on her return home.
“My brother seemed to fair well once he returned home, but he’s a man and men are forgiven more easily than women.”
“Not always,” he said and turned his head to look at the fluttering flames.
She could see a memory had pulled him away, and she was eager to learn more about how this flesh and blood man became the devil. “Tell me how you became an outlaw.”
She thought he might deny her as he had done other times she had asked and she waited to see if he would tell her. She was pleased when after a few minutes he spoke.
“A lie.” he said, not looking at her.
“Who lied about you?” she asked.
He turned his head with a sharp snap to look at her. She had responded too fast to have thought it was he who lied. She had immediately taken his side and thought it someone else who had lied. No one had ever thought to do that. He’d always been guilty in everyone’s eyes.
He answered, since no one had ever bothered to ask him that question. “My brother, but enough of me. How did your leg get damaged so badly?”
Since he had been somewhat forthcoming she would be too. “Protecting someone.”
He turned in the chair and Crista quickly squeezed her eyes shut.
After a few moments, he said, “You can open your eyes now.”
She scrunched her nose as she peered through scrunched eyes to make sure it was proper for her to open them. She did as soon as she saw that he had wrapped the blanket she had used to dry her hair around his waist and had returned to the chair.
She realized then that he’d been drying himself by the fire before wrapping the blanket around himself.
“I’m sorry, I used it to dry my hair,” she said, feeling guilty that he got a damp blanket while she got a dry one.
“It will do unless you prefer me naked.”
He teased her. She could detect it in his voice, though not his eyes.
“The blanket will do nicely,” she said.
“Who did you protect?” he asked.
She tilted her head a minute wondering what he asked, then realized what they had been talking about. “Someone who needed protecting.”
“Who?” he asked, wanting to finally know the whole story behind her injured leg.
She didn’t want to say anymore, but she was suddenly taken back to that night and the screams. The memory unfolded in her mind. She couldn’t stop it, but neither could she stop the words that began to spill out.
“I wasn’t at the convent long, just nearing my sixth birthday, when one night I woke to screams, horrible screams. None of the other girls dared leave their bed, but I couldn’t stay there listening to the agonizing cries for help. I ran and came upon Sister Lavinia beating Mary. She was a year younger than me, a fragile and shy girl. She was curled on the ground screaming as the stick came down on her again and again. I didn’t think, I threw myself over Mary, screaming at Sister Lavinia to stop.
“She ordered me to get off her and I refused. She hit me with the thick stick over and over and still I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Mary laid crying under me, pleading not to let Sister Lavinia kill her. That was when I realized Mary was bleeding. There was no way I was going to leave Mary to suffer.
“I kept telling Mary she was safe every time the stick came down on my me. Then the stick stopped and I thought it was finally over. That’s when Sister Lavinia brought a chair down on my leg, not once, not twice—I lost count after that only able to focus on the pain.
“The next thing I knew I was being lifted off Mary and she was scooped up by another sister. As we both were carried out of the room, I saw that three nuns had hold of Sister Lavinia and I thought for sure her eyes glowed red like a demon from hell.
“Lucia was a local healer and she was brought to the convent to heal my leg. She insisted that I be moved to her house since my leg would need much care and time to heal. I never went back to the convent to stay only for lessons two days a week. Sister Lavinia was gone and I learned that Mary’s parents removed her from the convent.
“If it hadn’t been for Lucia, I think I would have lost my leg. She healed it well, but as I grew so did the pain and I had to be careful of how much I did in one day. I never regretted protecting Mary and I’ll never ever forget how she begged me not to leave her, not to let Sister Lavinia kill her.”
Crista hadn’t realized she was crying nor did she realize that Diablo had come to hunch down in front of her and had taken her hands in his. She also realized at that moment Diablo did for her what she had done for Mary—he protected her no matter the consequences to him.
“You were brave for one so young and still are,” he said, wiping away her tears with his thumb.
“I still don’t know what made me do what no other girl did,” she said, trying to keep more tears from falling.
“You stood against evil and most people don’t have the courage to do that,” he said, wiping at her tears that continued to fall.
Something inside her had her saying, “I saw evil that night, maybe the devil himself. You’re not evil. You’re not the devil.”
“The devil can come in different guises. I can be more evil than you know.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“For your own good believe it.”
She shook her head and though she didn’t say a word, Diablo saw in her eyes that no matter what he said, she wouldn’t change her mind. Her foolhardy stubbornness touched his heart. It had been far too many years since anyone believed that strongly in him.
He had to be careful, she was stirring too many feelings. What had been troubling him the most lately was not only that he grew hard too often when he thought about her, but that it was growing ever harder knowing he would have to let her go. For whatever reason, he had become accustomed to her and the pleasure she had brought to his otherwise difficult life.
Those thoughts had had him thinking about altering the plan it had taken years to bring to fruition. But did he take the chance, or did he have no choice?
Crista couldn’t take her eyes off his face. It was like meeting him for the first time and far less frightening than their first encounter had been. Being this close to him, she was able to see that while his eyes appeared black at first glance they were actually a deep, rich brown like the color of coffee. And while she thought them void of emotion, she caught a spark in them that had her wondering where it came from.
She tried to keep her eyes off his lips, but the memory of their kiss made it difficult. She thought how much she’d like for him to kiss her again, but that wasn’t a thought she should have in her head. She couldn’t be foolish simply because she looked upon the features of a handsome man. It didn’t change the fact that he was an outlaw and el Diablo at that, the most notorious outlaw in the area. She had to remember they were one and not let a foolish fancy rule her.
She was about to turn her head away when he stood and returned to the chair and stretched his long legs out to the warmth of the fire.
“It shouldn’t take long before this matter is settled and you are returned home,” he said, hoping he was right for his own sanity.
Strange that she should get a small ache in her chest hearing that. She was glad she’d be going homing. Glad she would finally be rid of Diablo. Wasn’t she?
Crista woke the next morning to an empty room. She saw that Diablo’s clothes were gone, but she didn’t worry that he left her there alone. She was confident he wouldn’t desert her. He would see to her safe return home, and then? She scratched her head. Where would he go? What were his plans?
With all that had gone on yesterday, she had no chance to stop and think of what Diablo intended to do, since his camp and people were gone. Evia had mentioned they wouldn’t see Diablo ever again. Did he intend to leave this area and start anew? With no one knowing his identity he could go anywhere, be anyone he wanted to be. Had that been his plan all along? Had he finally grown tired of being an outlaw. Would he simply ride off never to be heard from again?
She sat up with a stretch, her mind troubled by her thoughts. What should it matter to her what he did? He shouldn’t matter to her at all.
She stood and went to see if her clothes were dry. Though the hem of her skirt was still damp, the rest of it was dry enough to wear. She hurried into them annoyed at her thoughts about Diablo.
It was that foolish kiss that got her thinking far too much about him. No, it was seeing him as a man and nothing more that must have done it. No, it was the way he had comforted her when she’d had the nightmare. No, it was how he was so protective of her. No, it had been how he rescued her from a horrible fate more than once.
She shook her head. No, it was all of that together that proved him a good and honorable man. A man she could easily love.
Love?
What was she thinking? This had nothing to do with love. She was simply grateful for all he had done for her. It didn’t matter how his kiss had made her feel. After all, she had never been kissed, so how did she know any differently?
How could a kiss be any better than his?
Crista pressed her fingers lightly to her lips, the thought of any other lips upon hers upsetting her. Had she enjoyed his kiss that much that she would not want to be kissed by another?
The door opened and she turned, taking a step back, seeing Diablo once again garbed in his black shroud.
“Good you’re awake. I have fish cooking over a campfire,” he said and stepped aside for her to precede him out the door.
Crista took quick steps past him. She preferred looking upon his face, but perhaps it was good he covered it. It reminded her of who he really was—an outlaw.
She sat on a blanket on the ground near the campfire, the delicious scent of fish making her realize just how hungry she was. Diablo sat opposite her and she saw that he held two bowls and spoons. He tossed his hood back and he began to fill each with the fish.
She smiled softly. Diablo was suddenly gone, but who was the man who replaced him?
“You said you never met your parents. Who raised you?” she asked, taking the bowl he offered her.
My abuela,” he said. My grandmother was the only family, besides my brother, that I had.”
“She remained with you when you became an outlaw?”
“She did most of the time. Later, in the end, she stayed with my brother. She told me that he needed her more than I did. She was right, so I didn’t argue with her over it, though I regret I didn’t.”
He’d never told anyone about that regret and he didn’t know why he did now, but then Crista had become much too easy to talk with about anything.
“Your brother didn’t treat her well?”
That was another thing he liked about her—she was perceptive. Unlike most women, her thoughts weren’t only centered on herself or what she could learn that would prove advantageous to her.
“My brother wasn’t a good man.” That was all he was willing to say. The less she knew about him, the better for her.
With his hood off, Crista felt that it also did away with an invisible shield he had erected around him. It allowed her to see his brow tighten in annoyance when something sparked his temper. Or the way his mouth tightened in a pause when he gave thought before responding to her. She realized she was learning more about Diablo than perhaps was wise. Yet, it didn’t stop her.
She went right on chatting. “From the letter my mother sent me, I think my brother grew into a good man despite what happened to him. Unless that’s what she wants to believe.”
“What makes you say that?”
Crista shrugged. “I don’t truly know my mother and father. My mother was the only one to write to me and only twice a year. Her letters encouraged me to work hard and learn and as I got older her letters reminded me how important it was I learn the qualities of a good wife so she could arrange a beneficial marriage for me. Not once did she say how much she missed me and she never once wrote that she loved me.” Light laughter spilled from her lips. “When I have children, they’re going to grow tired of me hugging them and telling them every day how much I love them.”
“Even though your parents treated you as they did, you still want children of your own?”
She laughed harder. “I was welcomed into a family of eight children and saw how happy a large family can be. Not that there weren’t squabbles amongst them, but there was also lots of love and laughter and that’s what I remember and miss the most.” Though she smiled, tears tickled at her eyes. “My heart broke the day I had to bid them all farewell, knowing I’d never see any of them ever again.”
“You were lucky to have them for the time you did.”
“I was,” she agreed. “And I’m so ever grateful for it. Do you want children?”
Her question startled him. “I’m an outlaw. What life could I give a child?”
It was the perfect time to ask him what she had thought on this morning. “What life will you have now that your people are gone? Where do you plan to go? What do you plan to do?”
“You ask too many questions?” he scolded.
Her laughter turned light once again. “A habit of mine you should be used to by now.”
“Believe me, mi amor, I have grown used to you.”
His response surprised her as did the flare in his eyes, a heat of sorts or was that a spark of passion she saw there? Hadn’t she seen that in Ricardo’s eyes at times when he had looked at Lucia?
Careful, Crista, she silently warned herself.
“Where will you go after you return me home?” she asked suddenly needing to know what would happen to him.
“That does not concern you.”
His harsh tone and the emptiness that returned to his dark eyes told her he would say no more. She struggled with the thought that he would be here in the mountains all alone. It hurt her heart to think that and that worried her. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she’d developed feelings for this man. As foolish as it was, she cared what happened to the devil.
The devil’s lies will lead you down a path of no return and once you travel there and, he steals your heart, your soul will belong to him forever.
Sister Bernadette’s words rang in her head. Had she been foolish and traveled down that path? Had the devil somehow stolen her heart. Did she now belong to him?