Caine's Reckoning

His whisper was scarier than his looming. His whisper wanted to delve, ferret out her past, her weaknesses. “It doesn’t matter.”

There was a long pause. Something touched her cheek, and she shrieked. She was wound so tightly she couldn’t contain it.

A voice intruded into their private battle.

“Just so you know, Desi, I don’t hold the bond between man and wife sacred.”

Sam’s low, cold drawl reached across the fire and the implication had the blood rushing from her head so fast she felt as if she were falling. Except she couldn’t because she was already down. She worked her hand out of the confines of the blanket, grabbing Caine’s wrist. “Please.”

Caine’s snarl was as chilling as the wind. “Shut the hell up, Sam.”

“The lady needs to know she has options.”

Oh God, she didn’t want any more options. One man to deal with was more than enough.

It grated, but if begging saved her from being passed around, even for one night, she’d take it. There were times when pride wasn’t worth the price to keep it. “Please. I’ll do what you want,” she whispered to Caine. She glanced across the clearing to the shadow that was Sam. “don’t call him over. don’t make me…”

“Fuck.”

The epithet tore through her like a shot. She clung tighter, wishing it were lighter so she could see whether her begging was having any effect. “Please—”

Caine’s hand came over her mouth, cutting off the plea. She could feel his stare as clear as a touch, his “My wife doesn’t beg, got it?” She nodded slowly. His hand left her mouth slowly.

“Sam, if you don’t elaborate in the next two seconds, I’m coming over there and kicking your ass.”

Desi ran her tongue across her lips, tasting the salt of his skin and the bitterness of her fear.

“Just saying the lady doesn’t have to suffer thinking there isn’t anyone here who won’t stand for her if she wants it.”

He couldn’t mean what she thought.

But he did. Caine confirmed it. “Sam’s offered you his protection, do you want to take it?”

Was it a trick?

“You’d just let me go?”

“Hell, no, but you’re free to take him up on his offer.”

Some choice. Caine or Sam. Wife or whore. “You’d fight your friend?”

“What’s mine stays mine, Gypsy.”

Oh, yes, he’d fight. Not because he loved her or wanted her, but because his pride was involved. And he considered her his. She understood that.

“So what’s it going to be?”

She didn’t know Sam. She didn’t really know Caine, either, but she knew this one thing. A possessive man wasn’t a sharing man. That made the devil she knew a better choice. “I don’t want his protection,” she whispered.

“Good.” The tense muscles against her relaxed subtly.

“She make a decision?” Sam called.

“Yup. She’s decided I’m the more attractive one.”

“Shit. On top of needing to gain weight, the woman needs spectacles.”

Sam didn’t sound serious or even disappointed.

“You were joking?” she asked Caine.

“No.”

She didn’t know what to do with that flat pronouncement. “I don’t understand you.”

“You might find it easier if you didn’t keep comparing me to cow shit.”

She let go of his wrist. Weariness rolled over her in a debilitating wave, spawning a ripple of defeat. “I can’t help it. I don’t have anything else to compare you to.”

6

Idon’t have anything else to compare you to. Caine had never heard so much hopelessness contained in simple truth. The tension left her body. Ah, hell.

He slipped his hand under her head, the wealth of hair acting as a cushion between her skull and his palm, and dropped his forehead to hers. For sure he liked her better when she was fighting. This lack of passion left him fumbling for a way to restore it. His kept his whisper so low, the words didn’t drift farther than her ear. “I think I mentioned before, that’s your whole problem.”

A stick popped in the fire. She jumped. He pulled her closer, the length of her feeling too fragile to him, the surrender in her body there for all the wrong reasons. He brushed his lips across her cheek. Her muscles grew tighter. “Easy, Gypsy.”

She didn’t move, didn’t respond, just held herself there as if waiting for a death blow…which in her mind, maybe she was. He slid his hands between them, found the bunched mess of her skirts. A soft whimper broke past her lips. He tugged the skirt down as a second whimper joined the first. “It’s all right, Gypsy. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Least of all him.

The kiss he dropped on the corner of her mouth spurred the confession from her throat. Her knee drew up with the tension he could feel growing tighter and tighter. “I don’t like this.”

“I know.” He ran his hand down her arm, under the bump of her elbow and back up. Resentment for the coat that kept his hand from her skin was his uppermost emotion until he got to her wrist. The flesh was cool. He circled the narrow joint and slid his fingers lower, meshing his fingers with hers. Her hand was like an icicle in his. “Jesus Christ.”

She was freezing.

“What?”

“I’m not doing a very good job taking care of you.”

He was so used to living on the trail, the discomfort of sleeping on the cold ground hadn’t even registered with him. He had the muscle and mass to withstand the cold, but there wasn’t anything to Desi. Just delicate flesh and fragile bone. Son of a bitch, no wonder she was freezing. He went to work on the remaining buttons on the coat, opening them with neat efficiency, ignoring the way she seemed to stop breathing as he did. When he had it open, he slid his hand inside. Where he expected to feel the warmth of her skin he found a coldness that alarmed him more. Building the fire wasn’t an option as it would draw attention and wouldn’t warm her nearly fast enough anyway, which only left one other option.

“Hold on a minute.”

He reached into his boot and drew his knife from its scabbard. The blade winked in the faint light. Her big eyes went round with horror as he said, “I’ll have you all taken care of in just a moment.”

He slit the front of the poncho to make room.