Lois Greiman Page 11

  She pushed some imaginary hairs from her face and blinked, thinking of nothing to say.

  “Clouds coming in. Might see some rain.” His face was tense. “Here.” He extended his arm, holding out the shirt. “Cover your…” He stopped, cleared his throat, and scowled as he realized what he’d nearly said. “It’ll keep you warmer.”

  She was blushing again, but reached out, determined not to drop her eyes.

  “Thank you,” she managed, though she was certain her flesh burned red all the way to the top of those very same body parts he had managed not to mention. Their fingers brushed, with his garment held immobile between them.

  “Katherine Amelia Simmons,” he murmured low and strained. “Who are you?”

  Though a moment ago she had fought to keep her gaze from the ground, now she could not lower it, could not break contact with his sky-blue eyes. She struggled for an answer, but could find none, not sure any longer exactly who she was.

  Quiet lay between them, settled snugly against his shirt, which they both still grasped.

  Ryland watched her, trying to read her soul, to understand, for he wanted her like he’d never wanted another and longed to hear from her own lips that she was not so far above him that he could not even dream.

  And yet… Did he truly want to hear she was soiled?

  No! Better to know the truth. That she was a lady—untouchable.

  “You weren’t with Patterson.” He said the words as a statement, though he had not meant to.

  It took Katherine a moment to understand his words, to realize the implication, to remember Daisy’s predicament.

  She nodded. “Yes, I was.”

  His jaw tensed and his fingers tightened on the faded red shirt as he drew a deep breath and let the silence lie.

  “Then what’s your price?” he asked finally, his tone so low she could barely hear him.

  Price? She blinked again, finding he had abandoned the shirt and drawing it slowly to her nearly bare bosom. “Price?”

  “For a night,” he explained, his eyebrows low over intense eyes. “What’s your price?”

  Her pink, little mouth, Travis noticed, formed a perfect circle as she said the word “oh” silently. He waited. The fire crackled behind him, warming the back of his legs. The sun sank lower, and still he waited. They stared at each other. Ryland’s heart thumped in his chest. An owl called from downhill somewhere.

  “Jesus, woman!” he stormed suddenly. “We could be done with the whole damn thing before you decide on a price.”

  “Two…two hundred!” she called, like a frenzied bid to a money-happy auctioneer.

  Travis’s jaw dropped. “Two hundred?” he asked in disbelief. “Dollars?”

  Katherine swept back a dark tress and stood quickly, feeling stiff and breathless. “That’s right.” She raised her chin with defiance and forced pride. “Two hundred dollars a night.”

  ‘Two hundred damned dollars a night!” Travis still gaped in disbelief.

  Katherine wrung the shirt in her hands, feeling her breath catch in her throat and taking a stilted step in reverse. “Too high?”

  He snorted out loud then shook his head. “Lady, at your prices I can’t afford to shake your damned hand.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth formed a circle again, as did her eyes. “Sorry,” she chirruped with a shrug, but suddenly realized that she truly was, for there was something about him that made her heart thump and her skin goose-bump.

  She hugged his shirt to her chest now, smoothing out the wrinkles she’d wrung into it and feeling the softness of the well-worn garment. “Well…good night then.”

  He snorted again, passing his bedroll to his other hand as he turned, muttering, “Hell! Can’t afford to say good night! Can’t afford to lace her shoe. I probably already owe my soul for them damned kisses.”

  Katherine watched him disappear into the trees. She was exhausted, and certainly wouldn’t mind being left alone. She crossed her arms over her bosom now. The temperature was beginning to drop.

  Rubbing her hands briskly, Katherine glanced about and realized that she would not have a blissful sleep. In fact, she wouldn’t sleep at all.

  For Travis Ryland had all the blankets.

  Chapter 13

  “Ryland,” Katherine whispered, not touching him as she knelt down to call his name. “Ryland.” His back was to her, and he had three beautiful blankets wrapped snugly around him.

  She coveted them. She needed blankets to sleep. It had been true ever since she was a child. Even during the dog days of summer she needed at least a sheet to snuggle under. It was a type of security. Perhaps she should have outgrown the need, but she had not. And so she knelt now with teeth chattering as she dared to touch his arm.

  “Mr. Ryland.”

  He turned over finally.

  The moon was hidden behind a fat layer of clouds, but she could see his eyes were open. He had been awake long before she called to him.

  “Is there something I can do for you, Miss Katherine?” he asked now, smiling as he bent his arms to place his palms casually beneath his head and watch her from the lovely comfort of his blankets.

  She had braided her hair and tied it with a small strip of fabric torn from the bundle she had carried food in. Grasping the chunky braid now, she squeezed it in stiff fingers.

  “I’m cold.”

  “Really?” His tone sounded no more than mildly interested. “It hasn’t even started raining yet.”

  “And I can’t sleep without a blanket.”

  “Is that so?” He gazed at the inky sky overhead. “Well, hell, lady, I’d give you one of mine, but…I can’t afford the privilege.”

  “I’ll pay.” She had known he’d be difficult. He was a difficult man. A difficult man that she’d like to punch in the nose. But exhaustion had taken its toll, and though she’d fought her weakness for several hours, she had now determined that one single blanket was worth all of the few hard-earned coins she now clutched in the cloth in her frigid left hand. “How much do you want?”

  He drew a loud, noisy, martyred breath, and paused. “How much have you got?”

  “Two and a half dollars.”

  Travis raised his brows and shook his head. “Ain’t much for a woman who demanded two hundred dollars a night. Guess business ain’t been so good, huh?”

  “Listen, Ryland…” She didn’t know exactly what she was about to say, but decided to tell the truth. “I’m very cold, and I need one of your blankets.”

  “I’m willing to barter.”

  “What?”

  “I said”—he raised himself up on his elbows to stare at her from closer range—“I’m willing to barter.”

  “Barter what?” She leaned away from him, feeling the breath leave her body.

  “What have you got?”

  “I told you.” She scowled. “I’ve got two dollars and fifty cents.”

  Ryland remained still for just a moment then shook his head slowly, as if he almost regretted his refusal. “Won’t do.”

  “Please, Ryland.” She knew she was practically begging, but the difficulty of simple survival was beginning to wear on her nerves.

  “You don’t need to sound so desperate, lady,” he said in an even tone. “Way I see it a woman like you is worth a small fortune.”

  “What do you mean?” She knew what he meant, of course, but it seemed a likely question, something to buy her some time.

  “Well now, lady—two hundred a night. And here my blankets are only worth, well—maybe fifty.”

  “Fifty! Dollars!” Katherine spat, outraged.

  “Too high?” he asked, mimicking her earlier tone.

  “They couldn’t be worth more than a dollar,” she said, ignoring his budding smile and trying to act businesslike.

  “Well now,” said Travis, obviously warming to the game. “That’s not true. They’re wool. Wool comes from sheep. And when was the last time you seen sheep in these parts. Nope.” He shook his head. “These here
blankets are mighty precious. Specially…” A quartet of cold raindrops slapped Katherine on her face. “Specially tonight.”

  Katherine tried to think of a way out of this mess as another drop splattered against her bare skin, pinging hard off her sunburned back. “I’ll get more money eventually, and when I do, I’ll pay you back.”

  “Lady.” He leaned forward suddenly with his brows lowered, his form tense. “You ain’t listening. I don’t want your money,” he said, forcing a tight smile. “But like I said—I’m willing to barter.”

  “What do you want?” The words were whispered.

  Silence.

  “I don’t mean to find fault, lady,” Ryland said finally, “but maybe you’re in the wrong business if you ain’t figured out what I want yet.”

  She swallowed, realizing she had gotten herself in too deep this time. “I can’t,” she whispered weakly.

  He stared at her. “Beg your pardon.”

  “I said,” she cleared her throat, praying for strength. “I just can’t.”

  “Can’t what?”

  “Can’t… You know!”

  He shook his head as if puzzled, but finally he said, “Oh,” and nodded. “That. No, of course you couldn’t. Too expensive. But then my blankets are quite precious, too. Notice the texture.” He actually lifted the upper edge to smooth it over his whisker-roughened cheek. “Soft. Warm. And look at this here stripe. It don’t look like much in the dark. But you should see it in the daytime. It’s right pretty. Bright red. Like a shining apple. I’ve often said to myself, Travis, that’s the prettiest damn stripe I’ve ever—”

  “Ryland!” Katherine grasped him by the shirtfront. Her knuckles were pressed up against his chest, and her face was mere inches from his. “I don’t give a spit about that stinking stripe. I’m hungry. I’m exhausted. I’m scared. And I’m cold. So give me that stupid blanket or…”

  His head was slightly tilted. His brows were raised. “Or what?”

  She searched for a likely threat, but the truth was, she’d flat run out of spunk. “Just give me the blanket,” she pleaded.

  “Now, lady,” he chided gently. “You was doing so good there for a spell. All fired up like.”

  “I think I’m freezing to death.” She nodded numbly quite sure it was true, and fully able to imagine her blue body being delivered to her mother without so much as Ryland’s cherished striped blanket to cover her deadness.

  He chuckled, because he couldn’t help it and because she looked so damned pathetic. “You ain’t going to freeze to death, Katherine Amelia Simmons,” he assured her.

  “I’m not?” she whispered.

  “No. I think you’re going to survive everything. You got yourself quite a grip there.”

  She let her hand fall away from his shirt, suddenly self-conscious about how she had gripped it. “I’m sorry.”

  He chuckled again. “Truth is, lady, if you’re gonna threaten someone, it’s generally more effective if you don’t go around apologizing all the time.”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated dejectedly.

  He shook his head. “Damn. I ain’t never seen a woman like you. You really a dove?”

  Katherine managed a nod.

  “But you ain’t going to…” He stared at her face. It was awful pale, so he narrowed his eyes and softened his language. “You ain’t going to…lay with me?”

  He waited for an answer, but she merely stared at him, eyes wide, and he relented finally.

  “Listen, lady. Don’t bother saying anything. By the time you spoke up, there wouldn’t be no time left anyhow. So how ‘bout a kiss and I’ll share my blankets.”

  “One kiss?” she questioned, her eyes shining like wide pools in the darkness.

  “Are you willing to do more?”

  “More?”

  “Never mind. Yeah. One kiss. But not no stingy bird peck. A real kiss. Are you game?”

  The silence was heavy and long before she finally answered.

  “Yes.”

  They stared at each other, eyeball-to-eyeball, before he lifted the blankets from his body in an open invitation. “Come on in.”

  “But we agreed to just a kiss.”

  “One kiss, lady,” he said huskily. “And since I have the pretty striped blanket, I choose the place. You’re cold. I’m comfortable. Come here.”

  She did, shifting closer until he had scooped the blankets around her sun-pinkened back.

  They remained immobile, staring into each other’s eyes, Ryland’s cool and blue, Katherine’s wide and nervous.

  “Now what? she asked.

  “Lay down.”

  She licked her lips. “Lie down?”

  “I ain’t gonna eat you up,” he said gently. “Lay down.”

  He must have found the only soft place in the whole of the Rocky Mountains to sleep, Katherine thought, for as her back touched the bottom blanket she could not help but notice the cushiony feel of leaves beneath her.

  Travis eased down beside her, pulling the blankets up over her bare arms and shifting on his side to watch her.

  “Nervous?” he asked quietly.

  “No,” she lied then realized her usually husky voice had squeaked. So she cleared her throat and tried again. “No,” she said more evenly. “I do this sort of thing all the time.”

  He propped himself up on his left elbow and grinned into her face.

  He had a good face Katherine admitted in silence. Deep-set eyes, blue as a mountain lake in the daylight. His mouth was generous and tilted upward at the corners now. His bone structure was broad, across his brow, his cheeks and his jaw. Broad and lean with the whisker-stubbled skin stretched tight over his square chin.

  “So…” He raised his brows at her. “How do you usually begin?”

  “Begin?” She winced as her voice cracked again. “Begin?”

  “Kissing.”

  “Oh. Yes.” Dear Lord. She was going to die. “Of course. Kiss… Kissing.”

  “Do you prefer the bottom or top?”

  “Bottom of what?”

  He shook his head. “It ain’t no mystery why you ain’t got a lot of ready cash, lady. How long you been in this line of work?”

  “Oh…” She found her braid and gripped it now with frantic fingers. “About three days.”

  Ryland raised his brows again. It was the first answer with a shred of credibility to it. “Then maybe I’d best get things rolling.”

  She opened her mouth to disagree, but before a sound emerged, his lips touched hers.

  They were firm lips, and warm. They slanted across hers like living flame, moving, caressing, urging.

  His hand had settled on her waist. His chest pressed against hers, and his right thigh, heavy with taut muscle, lay with solid familiarity across her knees.

  But it was his lips and tongue that took her breath away. They skimmed and tantalized and teased, or pressed and nibbled and urged, until Katherine found her arms clasped about his broad body, with her heart thundering against his and her lips answering each parry of their own accord.

  Who would have thought a kiss could feel like this—could make her forget her fatigue, her discomfort, even her hunger. Or was her ravenous appetite simply replaced by a different hunger?

  He had promised not to consume her, but in truth she felt as if she might be the one to devour him, for every nerve ending in her trembling body was screaming for release. What kind of release, she didn’t know, but she’d best listen or explode.

  His kiss slipped away as he lightly touched her cheek with his lips, and moved down her neck! She arched against him, aching. He took a detour, lifting his hand from her waist to stroke the hair from her throat and follow his fingertips with his kisses, up her tingling flesh to her ear.

  “Oh!” She said the word on a gasp, feeling she would surely explode if he did not stop and refusing to consider what she would do if he did.

  He kissed her again—just behind her ear—and she shivered, squeezing her eyes shut and try
ing to calm her breathing. But it was no use for already he had returned to her lips.

  She kissed back, forgetting about the cold, poor dead Patterson, and the damned pretty striped blanket. Katherine was simply feeling.

  It was Ryland who finally pulled away.

  Her arms were clasped about his back, and her breath was sounding like a freight train going uphill.

  Their gazes caught, hard and bright.

  “So,” she rasped without thought.“How long have you been doing this sort of thing?”

  He grinned, white teeth showing in the darkness. “What’ll you give me for more?”

  “I’ve got a little establishment in Silver Ridge,” she said.

  He touched her cheek with gentle, callused fingertips. “Not interested.”

  “A new satin gown?” she bartered breathlessly. “Only worn twice.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  “But…” She licked her lips, knowing she’d fallen over the edge and finding she did not care. “What would I wear?” she whispered.

  Travis felt as if someone had hit him in the chest with something hard and broad, for just the sight of her teasing him was enough to make his heart ache. “I can only imagine,” he murmured.

  “I can’t,” she whispered in return.

  He raised his brows.

  “I can’t imagine what it would be like.”

  Stark honesty shone in her silver-blue eyes, and the ache in Ryland’s chest turned to a burn. He was falling under the spell of her eyes, going beyond the understandable and acceptable lust to a deeper more dangerous level.

  But he could not afford that price. He pressed back a fraction of an inch more, employing all his strength. “I guess the debt’s been paid.”

  His tone had changed, but she didn’t notice, for the thrill of his nearness was having adverse effects on her ability to think.

  She licked her lips, staring into his face. “Now I’m… curious,” she whispered. “It’s been a fault of mine.” Her breathing was shallow and quick. “Ever since I was a little girl. Always wondering why or how or what if.”

  He could imagine her as a little girl. Long dark hair. Bubbling laughter. A book perched on her knees, reading to her little brother. But she had no little brother, and the boy he saw in his imagination was himself, curled against his sister’s side like a trusting puppy.