Rescuing Cain (Christmas Rescue Series Book 2) Page 2

  “We’re looking after him, too. He isn’t as troublesome as you.” A smile lit up her pretty face. Such soft white skin, unblemished, except for a few freckles across her nose. Her hair was a shiny brown color, her eyes were green or blue; he wasn’t quite sure which color they were. Why should he care what she looked like? He’d be out of here by tomorrow and on his way to Laramie to hopefully dispatch the Oliver brothers and what was left of their murdering, thieving gang. What if they had left Laramie by the time he got there? The thought hurt him worse than the bullet did.

  He suddenly realized he was only wearing his drawers and his heated face had nothing to do with any fever. “Who undressed me?”

  “Grandpa. Oh, don’t worry, he didn’t see anything. He’s blind.”

  “He’s what!”

  “I said, he’s blind.”

  “I heard, what I meant is, you shouldn’t be giving out all this information to a stranger. How do you know I’m not an escaped convict? A murderer?”

  She looked so crestfallen he softened his voice. “I won’t hurt you, but there are other men around who might if they knew how vulnerable you are.”

  “What did you want me to say? I have six big burly brothers and a pugilist for a husband?”

  “Well, it would be wiser than telling strangers there’s only you and an old blind man living here.”

  “No-one comes out here, well hardly ever.”

  “I came. Well, to be honest Jupiter made his way here – smart horse that he is.”

  “I’ll get you the water.”

  He watched her step across the room. Her telling him she was alone and defenseless were the actions of a naïve young gal, yet by the sway of her hips and the swell of her breasts, she was all woman.

  Skye was an unusual name, yet a pretty one. What were they doing living out here miles from civilization? Surely, they would be better off in some town. None of his business what they did. He’d be gone by tomorrow and they would never meet again. He didn’t know why the thought was disquieting. He must still be slightly delirious to be thinking this way. It was the only explanation making any sense. It was all too much. He slumped back on the pillow and closed his eyes.

  “Are you asleep, Cain?” He liked the way she murmured his name, liked everything about her and he shouldn’t.

  “No, just resting my eyes.”

  “I’ll help you sit up, so you can drink this water. I’ve put special herbs in it to help with the pain and make you sleep. Later, I’ll give you some broth.”

  With her help and groaning with pain he managed to sit up. “Is this your bed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you sleeping?” He glanced at the other side of the double bed. If she had slept with him he would remember it. A man would have to be dead not to.

  “There’s a bed up in the loft, I’ve been sleeping there.”

  “I’ve taken your bed and used up your Laudanum, I’m sorry.”

  “It couldn’t be helped.”

  “I’ve got money, I can pay you.”

  “No payment required. We were just doing our Christian duty.”

  Should he tell her he might have placed her in danger? If the Oliver gang happened to follow him here, he could be signing her death warrant.

  As she crossed the room he called out. “Skye, wait.”

  She swung around.

  “I need to relieve myself.”

  “I’ll get you the chamber pot.”

  “No, I’d rather wet myself.”

  “You used it before.” A frown marred her pretty face.

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Well, you did.”

  “Tell me where the outhouse is, I’ll get there somehow.”

  She gnawed her lower lip. “I don’t think you’d make it.”

  “You and your grandfather could help me.”

  “All right. See if you can sit up.”

  Gritting his teeth so he wouldn’t groan out loud with the pain, he let her help him sit up. She pushed the bedclothes aside, and after two attempts he swung his legs out of the bed and his feet touched the floor. Never had he felt so weak or useless.

  She stood in front of him, close enough for him to feel her warm breath caressing his face. Her lips were only inches away, so soft and inviting he was sorely tempted to kiss them. Deliberately, he put pressure on his left arm and pain quickly banished his lustful thoughts.

  He couldn’t remember ever feeling as embarrassed as what he did now wearing only his drawers. If he’d used the chamber pot, she would have seen everything he had. Heat rushed through his body.

  What was wrong with him? It wasn’t as if women hadn’t seen him naked before. Not a young woman like her, though.

  With Skye’s help he shuffled out into the main area of the cabin. It was a reasonable size with a cook stove next to a fireplace. Cowhides covered the wooden floor.

  A snowy haired old man limped over to them and spoke in a foreign tongue he vaguely remembered from before. Skye answered him. What the pair of them were gabbling about he had no idea.

  “Grandpa said he’ll take you out back, it’s unseemly for a lass to do it.”

  “I didn’t expect you to come into the outhouse with me.”

  She laughed. “Grandpa is very protective of me.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  He didn’t like leaning so heavily on an old man. Maybe he wasn’t as frail as he appeared. He gabbled something. “I don’t understand him. What language is he speaking?”

  “Gaelic.”

  “What?”

  “Gaelic,” she repeated the word.

  “I’ve never heard of that country before.”

  “Gaelic is spoken in the Scottish Highlands.”

  “Oh.” He was starting to understand now, tartan curtains, a portrait of a man in a kilt hanging on the far wall of the living area. “Can’t he speak English?” Cain wondered why he was standing here talking when he felt as weak as a new-born foal.

  “He lost most of his English in the accident that took his sight and killed my father.” Her eyes clouded over.

  “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

  “Grandpa will help you along, but you’ll have to be his eyes. The outhouse is straight ahead, you can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks.”

  Cain leaned heavily on the old man as they made it out on to the back porch. He took a deep breath, groaning with the pain, although it was worth it to smell fresh clean air.

  “You wait here, Mr. McLeod, I can duck behind this clump of bushes, won’t be long.”

  “All right, lad.” The words came out clear enough. He could obviously speak English when he chose to, had no problem understanding it, either.

  When Cain returned, the old man hadn’t moved so much as an inch. He was staring in the opposite direction, yet his head swiveled around. Obviously, his hearing was acute. How could they make a living out here? The place didn’t look to be productive land, if he was any judge. There was some fencing, post and rail by the looks of it, but old and weather beaten. It was too much for an old man and a gal to look after. Dangerous being stuck out here alone too. He only hoped he hadn’t brought them trouble.

  He linked arms with the old man as they slowly, painfully made their way to the cabin. Cain was panting by the time he got there, barely having the strength to grab hold of the porch post with his good hand to haul himself up the steps.

  Skye met them at the door and took over from her grandfather. The old man was breathing heavily from the exertion also.

  “You’re ghostly white, Cain.”

  “I’m not as strong as I thought I was.” He gave a rueful laugh.

  “Bed for you I think.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Maybe a drink first.”

  “Only water.”

  “Okay, as long as it’s wet.”

  The old man handed him a cup of water and he gulped
it down. “Thanks.” A grunt being the only reply he got.

  “Have a rest then I’ll get you some broth.”

  He was too weary to argue, but he wouldn’t be eating any broth, a nice, juicy beef steak would go down well.

  “If you feel up to it later, you can change into your clean drawers, and I’ll wash the ones you’re wearing. You need a wash.”

  “Not from you I don’t.” He couldn’t believe how she brought up a subject like that without so much as a blush. Had she been with a man before? Why should he care if she’d lain with a dozen men? He did though. Cursing under his breath he slumped on the bed, letting her lift his legs up.

  “You should have used the chamber pot.”

  He liked the way she smiled even as she scolded him.

  “Never.”

  If only he had met her a few years ago before he chose the path he was now on. It wouldn’t end up well, any man with half a brain would know this. One by one he had picked off members of the Oliver gang, but it was the two Oliver brothers who were left that he really wanted. Once they were dead, he would consider hanging up his guns.

  She eased him back on the pillow and he sighed in relief. “Thanks.” It was the Oliver brothers or him, no other way around that.

  “Hatred is a terrible thing, Cain.”

  “How do you know whether I hate anyone or not?”

  “I can read it in your eyes. There’s pain and sorrow too. Give it up before it kills you.”

  “I can’t. I will have my revenge.” He closed his eyes to block out the distressed expression on her face.

  “Skye, we need to get the livestock closer to the cabin.”

  The old man’s raised voice intruded on Cain’s musing.

  “There’s a storm approaching, lass. A bad one if I’m any judge.”

  “All right, I’ll saddle up and meet you out the front.

  Skye dashed off to do her grandfather’s bidding. The old man might be blind, but his other senses were obviously extra sharp. On a small place like this, if they lost any cattle, they would be hard pressed to survive the winter by his reckoning. He inwardly cursed his inability to help them.

  CHAPTER THREE

  As the wind whistled and shrieked outside and rain battered the windows of the cabin, Skye put aside her lace work to watch Cain as he slept. What long eyelashes he had for a man. What could have engendered such hatred in him? Gently she stroked his stubble covered cheeks.

  “Nice,” he mumbled without opening his eyes.

  She was setting herself up for heartache if she fell for this man. He was a stranger who, once he was strong enough, would leave and their paths would never cross again. Sadness almost overwhelmed her.

  His fever had now broken, the man must have the constitution of an ox to have survived. He was anxious to be on his way. Now the weather had turned bad it was even more important for him to stay until he was fully recovered. Deep down she wished he wouldn’t ride away and leave her. It was foolish to develop such strong feelings for him.

  Living out here in the wilderness with grandpa, she had been reasonably content. Now she had met Cain, she wanted more out of life. A loving husband and children.

  She picked up her lacework and used the bone crochet hook with the skill of long practice. The delicate lace collars, pillowcases and narrow decorative bands for sewing on to bedspreads, as well as tableware, gave them much needed income to pay for any supplies they couldn’t produce themselves.

  Three times a year, Mack, a distant cousin would bring them supplies and rolls of yarn in exchange for her lacework, which he would sell to stores in the East who catered for rich ladies wanting only the finest of lacework. Without vanity she knew she had inherited the gift of crocheting lace from grandma, who had passed nearly three years ago.

  She brushed irritably at wayward tears, which came unbidden to her eyes. They couldn’t live in a town, not the way grandpa was now. He knew the ranch so well, and with Lochie’s help, could get around and feel the fresh air on his face. In a town he would be confined to the house if they could afford to buy one, which was doubtful unless they sold the ranch. Who would buy an isolated place like theirs?

  Stop thinking like this, you’ve got a good life here. They had plenty to eat, a comfortable cabin to live in. What would happen to her if grandpa passed? Mack had promised to look out for her. Not having grandpa was too awful to contemplate. She sniffed, inwardly scolding herself for thinking such morbid thoughts.

  “Are you okay?”

  She jumped when Cain spoke. “Yes.”

  “That’s one wild storm we’re having.”

  “Yes. Grandpa says it’s going to be a long, hard winter.”

  “Is he good at predicting these things?” He raised himself on the pillow. As she made to help, he waved her away. “I need to do things for myself and get my strength back so I can leave.” He swung his legs out of the bed and stood staring down at her. “I can’t stay here much longer, Skye.”

  “You’re not fully recovered yet.”

  He glanced around. “Where are my pants and shirt?”

  “I hung them in the closet.”

  “I’d like them back please, and my vest also.”

  “There’s a storm raging outside,” she said.

  “I know. I’m not stupid enough to leave yet, but I want to get dressed and walk around a little. I won’t regain my strength lying in bed all the time. Unless.” He snapped his fingers. “You want me to stay.”

  There was no point lying to him, she did want him to stay. A thought so shocking that she trembled when it flashed into her head. She loved him. Loved a man who was prepared to throw his life away for the sake of revenge. A man who had told her nothing about himself or where he’d come from.

  Without answering she stepped over to the closet and took out his pants, shirt and vest and handed them to him.

  “Thanks. You didn’t have to wash and iron them.”

  “Yes, I did, they were filthy. I’ll give you privacy to get dressed if you don’t need my help.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  She turned to go.

  “Skye, thank you for everything you and your grandfather have done for me. I wish I could do something to repay you.” He dressed as he spoke, wincing every now and again.

  Another couple of days if the weather improved, then he would be able to leave. Her heart felt weighted down with lead. Dare she tell him how she felt? Maybe he would stay if he realized she loved him? It wasn’t like her to procrastinate. As grandpa always said, if you had something to say, you had better just spit it out.

  “I want you to stay here, Cain.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Please. I….I love you.”

  He rocked back on his heels. Something flared in his eyes before he turned his head away. “You don’t know me or what happened in my life to make me the man I am today.”

  “Tell me,” she said softly, coming up to him. “Tell me all about Cain Kilkenny.” She leaned in and boldly kissed him on the mouth. As she went to move away his right hand shot out and clamped her to him. His mouth closed over hers and he kissed her passionately. His tongue thrust between her lips, parted them and darted inside where it tangled with hers. At that precise moment, she would have done anything he asked. Given him anything he wanted.

  Suddenly she was free. He stepped away wiping his lips with the back of one hand. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice sounded husky.

  “I’m not. I liked it.”

  “There’s no future for us, darlin’. Heartache and trouble are all I can give you.”

  It is not she wanted to scream out to him. Without another word he swung on his heel and stepped out, into their living quarters.

  Cain saw the old man dozing in an armchair with the faithful Lochie lying at his feet. He didn’t know what breed the black and white dog was, a mixture of several if he was any judge. Not that he was. Wh
en he was a boy, they’d had a dog. Half wolf his father used to say. It was a savage animal who had turned him off dogs for life, although Lochie had redeemed his species somewhat. The dog cocked one ear and glanced at him without much interest. At least he didn’t growl at him anymore.

  Skye had said she loved him. As if a gal who had lived such a cloistered life would know anything about such feelings. The moment he tasted her lips he had known – she’d never been kissed by a man before. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end, wanted to take it further, but knowing he would be leaving soon, he couldn’t take what she so innocently offered. He wasn’t that low down.

  “Stop skulking around and take a seat,” the old man said. “And make sure you leave my granddaughter alone.”

  Cain sat in the other chair feeling like a naughty little boy whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar. Did McLeod have the gift of second sight or whatever it was called? Although his accent was broad, it was understandable.

  “Whereabouts in Scotland do you hail from?”

  “A wee town on the Isle of Skye.”

  Now he realized how Skye got her name. “Her mother was your daughter?”

  “Aye, she was an only bairn, just like my wee Skye.”

  The family were obviously not prolific breeders. He wondered when and why the old man came to America. Skye came out of the bedroom, one glance at her face and he knew she’d been crying. He felt like a low-down polecat. Better to hurt her a little now, than a lot later.

  “Anyone for a cup of tea?” Did the old man notice the huskiness in her voice?

  He didn’t want one, but under the circumstances didn’t like to refuse. “Thanks.”

  McLeod gabbled to her in Gaelic and he sensed the old man was talking about him. How much had he guessed? Her cheeks reddened and she hung her head. He couldn’t say anything in case he made things worse.

  What were a few harmless kisses? Who was he trying to kid? He had wanted to devour her, make her his in every sense of the word. Only common decency and the fact that he owed them his life had given him the willpower to end the kiss and step away.

  She had no future with the likes of him. He had nothing to give her. He couldn’t abandon his quest, he owed it to his friend Brian to make the men who had murdered him pay for what they did. They had not only killed his best friend but had ruined the stage-coach business they had worked so hard to build up after the war.