After Sundown (25 page)

And yet, the story she’d told him was the only one that made sense.

The facts were just too plain. She had told the truth about wanting the baby. And giving away the money. He’d seen with his own eyes that she wasn’t cold-blooded. Wasn’t
capable
of murder.

All the evidence added up: It had been an accident.

A tragic, goddamned accident had taken James’s life—and cost the life of the child Annie had been carrying, and left two children without a father. And torn Lucas in half.

But did he believe her because of the facts?

Or because he wanted to believe her?

He lowered his head and hunched his shoulders as he walked toward the pines. Maybe he would find some sign of the missing damned horse. Maybe, in the light of day and the cold air, everything would get clearer. Including his senses and his thinking.

Or maybe, he thought sourly, he’d slip on a patch of ice and fall off a cliff and not have to think at all anymore.

I
mpossible. That was the only word. The man was impossible to understand.

The first night in the cabin, Annie had slept only fitfully, but after making love to Lucas yesterday afternoon, she had slept all through the night. Had felt so safe and sheltered beside him that she had enjoyed the first peaceful sleep she’d known in a long time.

But then she’d awakened early this morning—to find herself alone in the bed.

Because he was stretched out on the dirt floor beside the stove, asleep.

At some point, he had apparently gotten up and decided not to come back. He had taken the wolf pelt and a few of the other furs down from the walls, piled them on the floor, and propped up his saddlebags at one end as a pillow. And he was fully clothed.

When she first opened her eyes, Annie had tried to tell herself that maybe it was some gesture of gallantry.

But that hope hadn’t even lasted as long as it took her to pick up her dress and underclothes and put them on.

Now, as she washed up at the basin in the corner, she began to feel more and more uneasy. Looking at her reflection in the fragment of mirror hung over the washbasin, she noticed her lips, swollen from his kisses, and her hair, tangled by his fingers. The delicate flesh between her thighs still felt sensitive from where he had joined their bodies together so powerfully.

What they had shared yesterday had been quick and hungry and... scorching, but at the time, she hadn’t regretted a moment of it, had given herself to him freely, with her heart.

But there had been only whispers of pleasure and sighs of passion between them, no words.

As she braided her hair, she frowned, telling herself she was asking the impossible. Lucas wasn’t the sort of man who ever revealed his feelings with words.

His tender embrace and what had followed had
shown
her how he felt. She thought—assumed—that he understood her now, that he believed the painful truth about her past that she had revealed yesterday. That he cared.

On the other hand, he hadn’t
said
so. Hadn’t said any of that.

All at once, her heart fluttered with uncertainty. She knew better than to assume what any man was feeling. Or rather, she
should
know better.

As she turned away from the mirror, she remained standing in the corner, watching him while he slept. Tendrils of regret began to twine through her. For weeks, she had been trying to convince Lucas she wasn’t a tramp—and now what had she done? Shared a torrid, passionate tryst with him. With no words of love or even caring between them.

Behaving like a wanton was probably not the best way to show that she wasn’t a wanton.

Annie looked at the dirt floor. She had told him
everything
yesterday, spilled out every painful fact about her life, but did he believe her—or did he still think the worst of her?

Could she really expect him to believe her, when the only proof she had to offer was her word? Lucas was a lawman. He made decisions based on facts and evidence.

Even if he
did
believe that James’s death had been an accident, she wasn’t sure he could ever forgive her. She was still the woman who had taken his brother’s life. It was her fault.

Every time Lucas looked at her, he must think that. And he always would.

She heard him stir. With a little gasp, she straightened, feeling breathless and flushed, as if she’d been running.

He sat up, raking his fingers through his disheveled hair.

“Why are you on the floor?” she blurted.

He blinked at her drowsily, looked startled to find her standing there. “I, uh...” He stood up, running a hand over his beard-stubbled face. “Went to look for the horse yesterday. Couldn’t find it.”

He looked away as he continued. “When I got back, you were still asleep, and there was a lot that needed to be done. I went through my saddlebags and divided our supplies into daily rations. Chopped more firewood. Then did some hunting. Came back last night with a brace of grouse and a rabbit.” He jerked a thumb toward the table.

For a man of few words, he was talking a lot.

And he still hadn’t answered her question.

“I see,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her, studying her interlaced fingers. “And why did you sleep on the floor?”

He fell silent for a moment.

And it wasn’t the cool, remote silence she’d gotten used to back in Eminence. This was more like a tense brooding.

“I thought it would be best if...” Again he paused.

She wished he would just tell her something simple, like he hadn’t wanted to disturb her sleep.

Or say the words she longed for.

I understand now. I believe you.

I forgive you.

I care about you.

“What happened yesterday was a mistake.”

Annie’s head came up and all the breath seemed to leave her lungs. His words pierced her heart, no less painful for being what she had expected.

He turned away, his back stiff, his voice unyielding. “It was a mistake,” he repeated, as if he wanted to make it absolutely clear. “It was a... moment of weakness. And it can’t happen again. It
won’t
happen again.”

He walked away from her as if there were no more to be said.

Annie just stood there, unable to move, trying to blink away the burning feeling in her eyes.

She had thought Lucas
cared
about her, that he
felt
something for her—but she’d been wrong. What they had shared hadn’t meant anything to him.

She
didn’t mean anything to him.

He was so upset with himself for giving in to a moment of
weakness
that he had left their bed. Didn’t even want to come near her again. Could hardly even look at her.

“Antoinette,” he said, his voice harsh, “I’m a federal marshal. You’re my—”

“Prisoner,” she choked out.

Annie
, she wanted to say.
Yesterday you called me Annie
.

Her tears threatened to spill over. God help her, why hadn’t she learned? Men only thought about
themselves
.

She had wanted Lucas’s caring, his tenderness.

He had wanted sex. Any warm female body would have satisfied his needs. She had merely been conveniently close at hand.

And because Marshal Lucas McKenna viewed the whole world in terms of good and evil, saints and sinners, he had seen nothing wrong with taking what he wanted—because in his mind, she was permanently branded a sinner.

She stalked over to the stove and grabbed the empty water pail.

“Antoinette—”

“No, you’re right. It was a mistake.” Her voice wavered dangerously. She had to get out of here, didn’t want to cry in front of him. “And we’ll
both
make sure it never happens again.”

She walked to the door and went out, pulling it shut behind her, her vision blinded by tears. A muffled sob escaped her as she slumped back against the rough wood, dropping the bucket in the snow. She covered her eyes with both hands.

She was the biggest fool who had ever lived
. A few kisses, one embrace, a caress on her cheek, and she had stupidly heard tender words that he’d never spoken, and assumed he was feeling emotions that he’d never felt.

Dreams. Stupid, foolish dreams. When would she learn?

And she might, right now, be carrying his child.

Annie took a deep, steadying breath, trying to assure herself that she couldn’t be pregnant. It had only been one time.

But once was enough, if she wasn’t protected. Mama had made sure she understood that, had made her study Dr. Charles Knowlton’s pamphlet
The Fruits of Philosophy
until she understood clearly how to be “safe,” as Mama put it. Annie had always made sure she used one of Dr. Knowlton’s methods of protection before James’s visits.

And even that hadn’t kept her “safe.”

Yesterday, with Lucas, she had been swept away by his passion, so caught up in the newfound feelings in her heart, that she hadn’t given a thought to the consequences.

But she couldn’t be pregnant.
God wouldn’t do that to her, not like this. Not with a man who didn’t care about her. Not after what she had suffered before.

Would He?

Annie shook her head in denial, shivering. But in spite of everything, the idea of a baby sent a tingle through her that was only partly fear.

When she lowered her hands, she saw that white flakes still swirled down from gray skies heavy with clouds. But it wasn’t the sky that captured Annie’s attention—it was the ground.

“Dear God.” Her eyes widened. There had to be two feet of snow on the ground. Maybe more.

For a moment, she just stood there, her breath white against the bitterly cold wind. It looked as if Lucas had shoveled a clear place around the door yesterday, so they could get in and out more easily, but even that was half-f of fresh, white crystals that glinted in the morning sun. And the snow was still coming down, so thickly that she could hardly see more than a few yards in front of her.

A choked sound of distress slipped from her throat. She had never been afraid of snow before—but she had never seen snow like this.

She was used to Missouri snowstorms, like the ones that used to send her and her brother Rafe running out of their family’s cabin on crisp winter mornings when they were little, to taste the icy flakes, and pelt each other with snowballs, and spell their names in huge letters with their footprints before it all melted.

Annie swallowed hard at the sweet memory. She wiped her eyes and picked up the empty water pail, forcing all her fears to the back of her mind.

There was no point in worrying about what had happened between her and Lucas, or what might happen in the future—not when the two of them might not survive beyond the next few days.

She moved a few feet beyond the door, starting to scoop snow into the pail. As soon as it was full, she turned to go back inside—but stopped halfway.

For a moment, she had thought she saw... No, it couldn’t be. She shaded her eyes with her hand, peering through the falling cascades of snow, in the direction of the pines.

Yes, yes it was! A rider in the trees—a lone figure on a brown horse, trailing a pack mule behind.

Annie’s heart started hammering. “Over here!” she shouted, dropping the bucket, waving her arms. “Help us! Over here!”

A second later she stopped, realizing two things. First, it wasn’t necessary to signal him, since he was already heading straight toward the cabin. And second, not everyone traveling these mountains was necessarily friendly. It might even be the fur trapper who owned this place—and Annie doubted he would take kindly to strangers invading his dugout.

Then the rider stood up in the stirrups and waved one arm. “
Annie!
”

Annie blinked in surprise as she heard her name shouted across the distance—especially since it wasn’t a man voice. It was a woman’s.

In that same instant, the cabin door opened behind her and Lucas came rushing out, barefoot, his gun in his hand. “What the hell is going—God Almighty.”

The rider had urged her mount into a gallop, racing toward them, plumes of snow flying from beneath the horse’s hooves, the mule braying in protest as it was tugged along behind.

“It’s Lily!” As the rider drew near, Annie recognized Valentina’s friend Lily Breckenridge beneath a wide-brimmed hat and heavy winter coat. Annie couldn’t have been more surprised—or happier—to see a detachment of cavalry come riding up out of nowhere.

“Annie! Marshal!” Lily reined in when she reached them, smiling and breathless. Dressed in trousers and chaps and a wool shirt beneath her coat, she dismounted in an agile leap, her cheeks reddened from the cold, her voice filled with relief. “Sure am glad to finally find you! We’ve been searching for two days now—”

“We?” Lucas had been standing there looking stunned despite his bare feet, but he finally ducked back inside the open door.

“Folks from town,” Lily explained. “‘Bout a dozen of us split up and went different directions.” She took off her hat and knocked the snow from it, her blond pigtails falling to her shoulders as she shifted her attention to Annie. “You all right? Rebecca said some varmint ran off with you. None of us knew what in tarnation happened—”

“A bounty hunter kidnapped me. But Lucas—the marshal,” she corrected herself quickly, “found me in time. He rescued me.” Annie felt her cheeks redden and hoped Lily would blame it on the icy wind. She didn’t want to supply too many details. “We’re both fine.”

Lily didn’t ask what had happened to the bounty hunter—but maybe she didn’t have to as Lucas reappeared, his boots on and his pistol in its holster.

“You rode all this way alone?” he asked Lily, disbelief and reproach mingling in his tone as he finished buckling on his gunbelt. “A woman traveling by herself in this weather—”

“I been riding these passes since Sugarfoot here was knee-high to a June bug.” Lily gestured to the mule, her chin rising indignantly. “And I can take care of myself just fine. I figured I owed you one, Marshal, seeing as you rescued Val and me from those drifters in the saloon.”