The Outlaw's Angel Read online

  Still, he hadn’t hurt her. Yet. And she was weary. So very weary, and her muscles ached from this difficult ride.

  “Angel? You all right?”

  She jerked forward again at the melodic sound of Robert Morgan’s deep voice. Her pulse pounded in her neck and she fought to hold her tone steady. “Fine, Mr. Morgan. Why do you ask?”

  “You leaned against me, darlin’.” He chuckled. “You’ve been takin’ such great care not to touch me, I figured something must be wrong.”

  “I...I’m simply exhausted. We’ve been riding for hours without a saddle, galloping a lot of the way. I ache in...places unmentionable. Could we stop for a while?”

  “Yes, this old brute has had about all he’s going to take for one day, I reckon,” Bobby said. “Problem is, we don’t have any supplies. No food. No bedding. No shelter. We’ve got to keep going until we find a place to settle in for the night.”

  Naomi gulped, and her hot, sticky body quivered. “The night?”

  “Of course. You didn’t think we’d ride all night, did you? Ol’ Barney here would collapse in a heap.”

  “But all around us are the hills of the prairie,” she said, taking in the straw-colored grasses, the ragweed and rushes. “Where will we—”

  “Now hush, don’t you worry,” he said. “I know this land. I’ve kept off the trails to stay hidden, but I know exactly where we are. See how the rushes are getting thicker?”

  Naomi followed the arrow of his thick forefinger.

  “Up ahead about a mile, we’ll find a freshwater creek, and we’ll follow it to a small cave where we can take shelter for the night. The night’ll be warm, and we’ll be fine without provisions. I can probably catch us a fish, or maybe even a small rabbit.”

  Naomi winced as her stomach growled. She found herself suddenly famished. And while the thought of breaking bread with Mr. Morgan troubled her, her rumbling tummy didn’t find the prospect near as disturbing.

  “It’s all right, you know.” His voice clashed into her thoughts.

  “What is all right, Mr. Morgan?”

  “You can lean on me. I know you’re tired, and I don’t mind.”

  “It would hardly be proper,” Naomi said, straightening.

  “Angel, we’ve been ridin’ hard without a saddle, and we’ve got a mile to go.”

  Though his breath was warm against her neck, she shivered.

  “I don’t plan on keepin’ you, you know.”

  “Wh-What?”

  “We’ll hit a railroad camp about midday tomorrow,” he said. “The cook there—Bessie’s her name—is a real nice lady. I’ll leave you with her and make arrangements for someone to take you home.”

  “Oh.” Naomi breathed in relief. “But a railroad camp. Mr. Morgan, I don’t think—”

  “Hush now. You’ll be perfectly safe. I never meant you any harm, angel. I hope you believe that. I just had no choice.”

  “I...” She couldn’t finish. A lump hardened in her throat.

  “Just lean back. We’ll be there soon.”

  Naomi sighed and let her body melt backward into his solid chest. She closed her eyes, Barney’s trot a steady, soothing cadence.

  * * *

  A soft whisper of breath caressed Naomi’s cheek.

  “Wake up, angel.”

  A strong hand gripped her upper arm. She opened her eyes to clear water trickling over silver stones. Her breath caught at the beauty.

  “What is this place?”

  “The creek I told you about,” Bobby said. “It’s fresh, and you must be thirsty. I know Barney here is. So let’s get down so he can drink. Steady now.”

  He dismounted and pulled Naomi down. She slid off Barney’s slick back and into the arms of her captor. Her breasts pressed into his hard chest and her skin tingled when she grasped his shoulders for support. Such hard, muscled shoulders. Her cheeks warmed as she raised her gaze to his manly face. His eyes had darkened to a rich brandy, and his mouth was slowly descending toward hers.

  A kiss. He was going to steal a kiss.

  The prospect of those full, firm lips on her own frightened her. And excited her. Which frightened her even more.

  Her first kiss.

  And it would be from a man who had abducted her. An outlaw accused of murder.

  No. Absolutely not.

  She stiffened in his arms. His eyes narrowed, their lighter color returning. The moment had passed.

  She shivered, hoping he didn’t notice how his touch had affected her. Relief swept through her as she loosened her grip on his shoulders and slid her hands down his arms. When she reached his hands, he clasped one of hers and led her to the creek.

  Barney eagerly sucked at the cool water, but Naomi hesitated.

  “It’s cool and fresh,” Bobby said, “Come on.”

  She knelt, cupped her hands, and let the crisp liquid soothe her parched throat. When she’d had enough, she rose and brushed her soiled skirts. She turned and breathed in the enticing woodsy fragrance of the little meadow. She had admired the endless prairie from her father’s homestead claim but had never ventured outward to the land that called to her. How she’d longed, during her walks on Pa’s claim, to run into the hills that beckoned her with their wildflowers and their chirping birds.

  But though they held beauty, they also held dangers, her pa said. Wild animals, and worse. Indians.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled. Pine. And fresh dirt. There were no wild animals here. No Indians.

  Robert Morgan’s voice cut into her daydream. “You all right, angel?”

  She opened her eyes. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just...so beautiful.”

  “You mean you’ve never been here?”

  “No. My pa wouldn’t bring my sister and me, though we often begged him.”

  “That’s a right shame,” Bobby said. “This here’s paradise.” He cleared his throat. “Or as close as it comes, near as I can tell.” He held out his hand. “Come here. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  She shyly placed her small hand into his large tan one but then pulled it away. He nodded slightly, and he led her about a hundred yards to a bush.

  “Oh! Raspberries!” Naomi knelt and gathered a handful of the plump dark pink berries. Their sweetness burst on her tongue.

  Bobby chuckled behind her. “You really were hungry.”

  “I didn’t get any lunch today,” she said. “I’d planned to eat after I delivered the bread to...” No need to finish. He knew as well as she why she’d missed her noon meal.

  “I’m sorry, angel. I should have asked when you’d last eaten.”

  Naomi swallowed another mouthful of sweet berries. “It’s not your fault—” She stopped. As a preacher’s daughter, she was used to making allowances. But it was his fault. This whole situation was his fault, and she’d do well to remember that. No matter how kind he was to her, he was still the enemy.

  Bobby nibbled at a few berries.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Naomi asked.

  “Yeah. I haven’t eaten in a while either. But I’ve a hankerin’ for some meat. Problem is, I don’t have my shotgun. That goddamn tenderfoot sheriff—”

  His words angered Naomi, and she huffed. “Mr. Morgan, I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from taking our Lord’s name in vain.”

  His handsome face reddened, and Naomi fought a smile. She had embarrassed him.

  “Sorry, angel.” He smiled, and a shallow dimple appeared on his left cheek.

  Naomi’s pulse quickened.

  “What I mean is, the sheriff’s Colt isn’t my first choice of weapon for hunting. He took my revolver and my shotgun and what money I had in my pockets. Even the dirty laundry in my saddlebags. And my horse. I’ve no idea where he is.”

  Naomi revolted against the pity edging into her heart for this man. Stripped of everything, but it was nothing less than he deserved. He was a criminal.

  “Goodness, Mr. Morgan. The sheriff was doing his job. He is sworn to keep our growing town
safe. His job is no easy task, what with that raucous saloon in town.”

  “Well, now”—he smiled again—”some folks say a man who works hard all day is entitled to a little drink.”

  Naomi scoffed. “A man who works hard all day is entitled to come home to a hot meal and the love of his family. He should want nothing more.” She filled her hands with more berries and walked back toward Barney. “Take the sheriff, for instance,” she continued, speaking louder so he could hear her. “He’s one of the hardest working men in town, with no family to go home to, but he never walks into that den of sin.”

  She jerked backward when Bobby grabbed her elbow. The berries tumbled to the mossy earth. Her hands, stained with red juice, trembled as warmth crept up her arm to where his hand held her.

  “Are you sweet on the sheriff, Naomi?” Bobby’s deep voice rasped.

  Naomi opened her mouth but no sound emerged.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Bobby said and released her elbow with what almost seemed like disgust.

  Why on earth would he care if she was sweet on Justin Stiles? Truth was, she wasn’t. He was sweet on her. But she’d never thought of him that way. Her heart didn’t go pitter-pat when in his presence. Certainly not the way it was racing right now.

  But that was only because she was in such a frightening situation. Surely she wasn’t actually attracted to Mr. Morgan’s rough male beauty.

  “No.” For some reason, Naomi wanted to explain. “I’m not at all sweet on Mr. Stiles, though why it’s any of your business, Mr. Morgan, I’m not likely to know. He’s tried to court me. He even talked to Pa. But I’m...well...”

  “Well, what, angel?” His voice had softened, and his amber eyes smoked as they gazed into hers.

  “I’m not inclined to settle, Mr. Morgan. Most ladies my age are already married, but I—” Why was she telling him this? What did he care that she was holding out for love?

  “How old are you, Naomi?”

  “I’m—” Her face warmed. “I’m nineteen. I know I’m an old maid. I-I’ve had plenty of chances.”

  “I have no doubt of that.” Bobby reached toward her and trailed his finger from her eye to her cheek and down the curve of her jaw line, igniting sparks along the way. “You sure are pretty.”

  Her mouth gaped. She knew she was pretty. She’d heard it often enough over the years. But when Bobby Morgan said it she felt like Helen of Troy, beautiful enough to start a war.

  Bobby brushed back some wisps of dark hair that had escaped from her bun during the long ride. Again, his touch seared her and her breathing grew shallow.

  “Why do you wear your hair like this?”

  “B-Because it’s the proper way for a woman of my age to coif herself, Mr. Morgan.”

  Bobby shook his head. “It’s so severe. I’m hardly an expert, but there are lots of styles that would flatter you more.” He curled a lock around his finger. “And you’d look the best with it down, hanging around your shoulders in soft waves.”

  Naomi tried to speak, but her words caught. He was touching her hair, a sinful liberty, and instead of being shocked, all she could think about was how his silky brown locks would feel between her fingers. She cleared her throat. “That would hardly suit me.”

  Bobby reached behind her and fiddled with her hairpins. She swatted his hand away.

  “Mr. Morgan!”

  “Please, angel, call me Bobby.” He smiled. “I promised you I wouldn’t harm you, and I won’t. I just want to take your hair down. You don’t plan to sleep like that, do you?”

  She tossed her head and harrumphed. “Perhaps I will.”

  “Have it your way, then.” He lifted his lips in a lazy half-smile and patted the revolver in his holster. “I’m going to see if I can snag us a rabbit. Will you be fine here for a little while?”

  “Of course.” She blinked as her eyes shied away from him.

  “I’ll do the best I can, though without my shotgun...”

  He ambled off, whistling a lively tune she didn’t recognize. One he’d no doubt heard in a saloon. She frowned.

  But the frown ceased when her tummy rumbled. She headed back to the raspberry bush but knew the sugary fruit wouldn’t satisfy her. She salivated at the image of a fat jackrabbit roasting over a campfire. The smoky aroma, the juicy meat...

  She crammed berries into her mouth, the juice dribbling down her chin. Her ma had chided her about her appetite since she was little, but Naomi couldn’t help it. She liked food. She liked to eat.

  Please, God, let him get a rabbit.

  Chapter Three

  “Exactly what else do you carry in your boots, Mr. Morgan?” Naomi asked as she bit into a rabbit leg.

  Damn, that girl liked to eat. She’d matched him bite for bite so far. Watching her enjoy the meat made skinning it with that dull razor worth all the effort. He shook his head and grinned. If she weren’t a preacher’s daughter, and if he hadn’t kidnapped her, and if he weren’t a no good bounty hunter without a heart who was wanted for murder...

  Bobby wiped the slate clean in his brain. Such thoughts had no place.

  “Whatever I might need,” he said.

  Her giggle warmed him. He hadn’t heard her laugh before, and a musical sound it was.

  “I’m certainly glad you thought to carry matches down there. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be enjoying this wonderful meal.”

  “I’ll keep you fed, angel.” His insides squirmed as she blushed a delectable pink. The same pink he’d seen every time he called her angel. He wasn’t likely to stop. “And I wish you’d call me Bobby.”

  “It’s not proper, and you know it, Mr. Morgan.” Naomi took another bite.

  “You can clean the bones like no man I know.”

  She blushed again and his groin tightened. Damn, she was about the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

  “I have a healthy appetite,” she said, her tone haughty. “I’ll not apologize for it.”

  “Who asked for an apology?” He tossed his bones in the fire.

  “It’s difficult to eat without a plate,” she said as she followed suit, flinging the remains of her meal into the flames. She stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get a drink from the creek.”

  “I’ll come along.” He rose. “The sun is settin’ and I don’t want you wanderin’ about in the dark.”

  “For goodness’ sake, Mr. Morgan, it won’t be pitch dark for another hour or so. I’ll be perfectly fine. The creek can’t be more than five hundred yards away, and Barney’s hobbled down there.”

  “I said I’m going with you, and that’s that.” He held out his arm.

  And was beyond surprised when she took it.

  Was she beginning to believe he meant her no harm? Maybe it was time to tell her again.

  “Angel?”

  “Yes?”

  “I want you to know how sorry I am about all this. Really. If there’d been any other way—”

  “There was another way, Mr. Morgan. See the system through to the end and let justice prevail.”

  “The system?” He stopped walking and turned Naomi to face him. He stared into the violet depths of her eyes as he grasped her arm hard.

  She shrugged to free herself but he held fast.

  “There ain’t no system in these parts, darlin’. There’s a sheriff who don’t know shit”—Naomi cringed against him—“and a dirty jail cell in a podunk town where men shoot each other for sport on a regular basis.”

  “Mr. Morgan, there is a judicial system in this country. Our forefathers—”

  “You’re naive if you think our forefathers had the foresight to understand what goes on out here. This is the west, angel, not Philadelphia.”

  “Don’t speak to me like I’m a child.” She shook her arm free, but only because he allowed her to. “I was graduated from our county school, you know. I even took the state teacher’s examination and was awarded a second grade certificate. I spoke on the history of our country at a school exhibition.
I know whereof I speak.”

  Bobby shook his head. “You know theory, Naomi. Theory. Here’s the reality. Dugan didn’t even have law the last time I passed through, and that was nigh six months ago. You say I should trust the system. What kind of system locks up an innocent man on the word of five drunks? And where’s the courthouse? You got no judge in Dugan. You’d have to send for one. How long would that take? How long am I expected to rot in that cell for a crime I didn’t commit?” He kicked at the dirt. “I got things to do. They took my guns and my horse. My property. Left me without means to support myself.”

  Naomi’s eyes widened, and black circles formed around her amethyst irises. Bobby wanted to kick himself. He’d gotten his dander up and he’d said too much. He knew what was coming.

  “Just how do you support yourself, Mr. Morgan?”

  Bobby cleared his throat. He wasn’t ashamed of the way he made his living. He didn’t steal—not any more—and he’d given his share to help others over the years. He provided a valuable service to society.

  “I hunt criminals,” he said. “For money.”

  He waited for her reaction. He never apologized for his line of work, but for some unexplainable reason, he cared what Naomi might think.

  “So you’re a bounty hunter.”

  Her voice had deepened—only a touch, but he noticed. Truth be told, there were few things he wouldn’t notice about Naomi. Question was, did the voice change signal acceptance or disgust?

  “That’s right.”

  Her hands whipped to her hips, and she stared straight into his eyes, fire blazing in her own. “Well, tell me this then, Mr. Morgan. Has it occurred to you that there might now be a bounty on your head?”

  Looking into Naomi’s glaring eyes, Bobby lost all rational thought. He seized her upper arms, pulled her to him, and crushed his mouth to hers.

  Her full red lips were as sweet as he’d imagined. He nibbled across the upper and then the lower, tasting the remnants of the raspberries she’d eaten with her supper. Sweet, tangy, and oh, so perfect. He cherished each second of the kiss, knowing she’d break away at any time. Probably slap him across the face. It’d be no less than he deserved.