Texas Rebels: Egan

“Do you think he’s following us?”

Egan wanted to tell her no, but he wasn’t sure about crazy Izzy, and he wanted to be honest with her. On the other hand, he didn’t want to scare her to death. She’d been through enough for one day.

“Don’t worry. I have my rifle and we’ll be at the cabin in no time.”

Egan thought he was in good shape, but by the time he saw the one-room log cabin nestled on the bank of the creek his muscles were tight and aching. Tall oaks and scrappy yaupons surrounded the place. The view from the front porch was the same as it had been over a hundred years ago. The lazy creek flowed like a pale ribbon and was inhabited by fish, frogs, snakes and turtles. Animals came to drink at different times of the day. Enormous live oaks and cedars shaded it. The yaupons had been cut back for a better view of the valley below.

The steps creaked as he put his weight on them. He needed to fix that, but never seemed to find the time. Juggling Rachel and the rifle, he managed to open the door and carry her inside. “Doin’ What She Likes” by Blake Shelton blared loudly.

He laid her on the mattress of a single bed in a corner across from a stone fireplace.

“Where’s that music coming from?” She curled up on an old patchwork quilt of his grandmother’s.

“A transistor radio I keep on to discourage little critters from coming in. It works pretty good. If they hear a human voice, they go elsewhere.”

“How clever.”

“Yeah.” He turned off the radio. “Rest,” he told her. “I’m going outside to get more water.”

She sat up, her eyes wild. “Egan...”

“It’s okay. I’ll be right outside. The only way in is through this front door and I’ll have my eye on it. Just try to relax.”

It didn’t take him long to get the old pump working at the well. It had been repaired so many times, but still provided water. He filled the bucket and carried it inside, keeping his rifle in hand and a close eye on the surrounding woods as he did so. An armadillo rooted about and birds chirped. Other than that, it was just a normal day in the woods.

But it was anything but normal.

Chapter Three (#ulink_68219d84-9a02-513d-89d0-8f26b8684d8f)

Rachel’s skin burned and she wanted to scream. But she feared if she started, she would never be able to stop. She kept her eyes open, because if she closed them, she could feel the dogs on her—their smelly breath, coarse fur and claws so sharp they’d ripped through her skin.

A scream clogged her throat and she pulled the duster closer around her. The woodsy, masculine, sweaty scent enveloped her, but it wasn’t abrasive. It was soothing because it reminded her of Egan.

She kept her eyes on the door and soon he walked in with a bucket of water, which he set on the floor. Blood covered his shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice it.

“I have to clean those wounds and see how bad they are.”

She pushed herself to a sitting position and brushed her fingers through her blood-caked, tangled hair. Egan’s hand touched her face and neck and she stilled. No one had ever touched her that way—gentle, caring and respectful.

“The skin is broken in several places and your neck has two punctures, but they don’t look deep. I’ll clean them with the water and then I can see better.” He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and dipped it in the bucket. Looking at her, he added, “It might be best if you remove your blouse. Some of the scratches on your neck go down.”

Without a second thought, she lifted the blouse over her head and exposed her breasts in a lacy pink bra. He seemed completely unmoved by the sight. Gently, he wiped and squeezed water over each scratch and wound until the liquid in the bucket was bloody. The cloth was cool on her skin, but an inner fire was building in her. With each stroke, she wanted to catch his hand and hold it to her breasts, to feel his touch in a more personal way. It probably was due to the trauma she’d been through, because she’d never reacted this way to any man before.

“I’m going to push on the neck bites to get them to bleed so it will cleanse the wounds of saliva and bacteria.”

“Okay.” She winced as his fingers pressed into her skin.

“I’m worried about rabies, even though Izzy takes very good care of those dogs. Still, they’re in the woods all the time and a few skunks have tested positive for rabies. There’s whiskey in the cabinet. Do you think you could stand it if I pour it over the scratches and bites? It’ll kill whatever bacteria is there and it’s all that I have available here. It’ll sting, but...”

Rachel reached out and removed Egan’s hat. He drew back slightly, which was his only reaction. “I can’t see your eyes with your hat on,” she said.

He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Is it necessary to see my eyes?”

“Most definitely.”

He went to a small cabinet and came back with a bottle of whiskey. Handing it to her, he said, “You might want to drink some first.”

“Straight?”

“It’ll numb your senses.”

“All righty.”

She lifted the bottle and took a swig, swallowed and coughed as it burned her throat. Her eyes watered, but she took another drink.

“I have to get more water and rinse out the handkerchief. Sip it slowly or your eyes are going to bulge out. Evidently, you’re not used to hard liquor.”

“A margarita or a glass of merlot is more my style.”

“I could’ve guessed.”

She made a face and took another swig, coughing until she thought it was going to come up again. Lying back, she watched glittery rainbows float across the old wood beams of the ceiling. A numbness invaded her mind. She reached out for Egan’s hand. His strong fingers closed around hers and she knew everything was going to be okay. Egan would take care of her. That seemed odd, since she’d been fighting for years for her independence. But with Egan it was different.

“I like you, Egan Rebel.”

“Ma’am...”

A bubble of laughter erupted from her throat, and she thought if she could hear him say that word in that tone for the rest of her life, she would be in heaven.

* * *

EGAN WENT OUTSIDE for more water and rinsed the handkerchief until it was as clean as it was going to get. Back in the cabin Rachel was falling in and out of consciousness. He placed his hand on her forehead to see if she had a fever, but her skin was cool. She was just getting drunk and he had a feeling she didn’t do that often. If ever.

“Ready?” he asked, squatting by the bed.

She drew a deep breath. “Yes.”

He took the bottle from her and soaked the handkerchief. He started with the scratches on her hands and arms, where she’d fought the dogs. The moment the whiskey touched the open wounds she bit down on her lip to keep from screaming. He admired that. She had guts.

Quickly, he continued, making sure each scratch was covered with alcohol. She flinched when he did the ones on her face.

“Is it bad?”

“It’ll heal in no time and you’ll still be beautiful.”

“Ah, you think I’m beautiful?”

He soaked the bites on her neck and she bit her lip again, preventing her from talking, which he thought was good. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. God had heaven in mind when he’d created her. Natural blond hair, blue eyes and model-like features. Everything about her was perfection, including her curved, feminine body. Touching her skin was an exercise in restraint. Egan had never felt anything so soft, supple and tempting. One scratch arrowed down to a breast and his hand slowed as he reached its fullness. He wanted to cup it, to feel its weight in his palm. With superhuman strength, he pulled away and screwed the top on the bottle of whiskey.