Villain's Woman Page 5

  "He raped you," a hoarse voice muttered next to her. She looked up at him from the pale primroses lying in the blood.

  "He raped you," Robert Nash repeated. One of his eyes was half-shut, and the other was wide with horror.

  "No, he didn't," Lucy said. "But you were going to."

  Robert Nash began to cry, tears flowing over the bruises in his face. Lucy slid her silver knife out of her dress's sleeve, cutting the fabric accidentally. She considered using this knife on Robert Nash as she had initially planned to. She considered cutting his ropes and letting him free, as she knew for certain Gerald was going to kill him.

  She did neither. She threw the knife onto the floor, next to the peach pit and the pale primrose petals in the blood.

  She felt Gerald's fingertips brushing her cheek tenderly and turned to him. He could move so silently, she had not even heard him come up to her. He smiled knowingly, and she blushed, lowering her eyes, remembering.

  "We'll be off soon, darling. Just a few little details left to take care of." His eyes had that dangerous glint in them as he looked at Nash. "Can you ride?"

  "A little," she admitted.

  "You'll ride with me then. What's this?" He touched the torn sleeve on her arm, frowning, his fingers brushing over the cut scars on her pale delicate skin.

  "It doesn't matter now," she tried to smile.

  "It does to me. Who did this?" She could sense the rage in him, the predator baring his fangs in fury.

  "No one. I did it … myself. When they told me they would marry me to Nash and there was nothing I could do. I felt so miserable. Please don't be angry with me…" Lucy looked up at him. "It was such a stupid thing to do, I know. The scars will stay now, and … I'm sorry if they make me look ugly." She tried to cover her arm with the sleeve's torn fabric.

  He did not let her. He caught her hand and gently moved it away. Then he bared the scars on her arm again and kissed them, a soft, tender kiss that made her skin tickle as his short beard brushed the flesh of her arm.

  "Nothing could ever make you ugly, Lucy," he said. His eyes were still dark and full of anger, but his arms embraced her so tenderly. "You're beautiful. I'll cherish those scars. And nothing and no one will ever hurt you again. I'd promised you that once. That I'll kill everyone who tries to hurt you."

  "You did," she whispered, glancing at the bodies on the floor.

  "Not yet," he said, and his voice was hard.

  Gerald took out his Colt. It shined slightly, with a silvery-steel cold light. Its grips were white pearl.

  Nash squinted at the gun pointed at his face. He trembled and tried to pull away, but the ropes would not let him. Gerald Steel continued to look at him, having the Colt at his eye level but still not firing that shot. There was a faint smile playing about Gerald's thin lips as he seemed to toy with his victim. But the smile did not reach his eyes, and they were cold and hard.

  "Kill me and be done with it, you murdering scum," Robert Nash croaked. He spat blood at Gerald's feet.

  "All in good time, Mr. Nash," Gerald said almost softly. "Come here, Lucy."

  She moved to his side, looking at the two men who fate had bound her with. There could not be two men more different in the whole world. Nash's defiance seemed to be gone with that spit, and now he was cringing and cowering again. Gerald stood there in front of him with a loaded Colt in his hand, in an easy posture that seemed almost relaxed, but there was unmistakable strength and danger hiding just beneath that easiness.

  Like a cougar, full of that easy and almost lazy grace, but ready to spring at an instant, Lucy thought.

  "Here, Lucy. Touch it. See how it feels?" Gerald Steel smiled, and the darkness in his eyes was dancing, pulling her. "Now take it, carefully now, there, yes, like that. Always point it away from yourself. Yes, there."

  His hands were locked around hers now, around the loaded Colt aimed at Nash's head. The gun was heavier than it looked. She could feel its hard metal cold beneath her fingers, and Gerald's hands warm on top of hers, guiding her, helping her hold it steady. There was a hard, distinct click as he cocked back the hammer, his thumb sliding from the gun to the back of her palm.

  "It's really easy, you see." She was not looking at Gerald's face, but she could hear the smile in his voice. "You put your finger here, on the trigger. Don't pull it forcefully, just squeeze it smoothly, gently."

  Lucy could feel Gerald's breath on her skin. The Colt trembled in her hands slightly, but he steadied her. She saw Robert Nash's face before her, fear staring out of those dull eyes.

  I told you to get on that train, she wanted to tell him. He was already dead, she knew then. He just did not know it yet. Gerald Steel's fingers held her own in a firm but gentle grip. His index finger brushed hers, making the pressure on the cold metal trigger just a little harder. She yielded.

  The shot was a deafening explosion in her ears, the recoil sending her stumbling back into Gerald Steel's arms. He held her as her head swam suddenly, catching the Colt slipping out of her fingers. She glanced at Nash's body, but his face no longer resembled anything human.

  "That's my girl," Gerald said, smiling. "I guess that ends your marriage."

  She staggered against him, suddenly feeling very faint, but he held her next to him firmly, both his arms now around her, the Colt back in the holster on his gun belt.

  "But when they find out…" she whispered, suddenly afraid. Not for herself. She was long past fearing for herself. But she did not want him to get hanged for a murderer. "What about the law?"

  He laughed.

  "I'm the law," he said. In the light of the candles guttering out, his eyes were very bright.

  "Torch the place, boys," he said, helping her outside. He sat her on his horse in front of him and held her there. When his men got all ready, they did not wait for the place to burn down and just rode off. The last thing she saw of Robert Nash's manor was tiny bright-red flames crawling out the windows to the roof.

  She slept in the saddle a little, encircled by his arms. When she came to, they were far out in the prairie, and the tiny stars were growing pale in the pre-dawn sky. She felt drowsy and aching, her head still spinning a little, and she was wincing at the horse's rocking motion against the sore feeling between her legs. Her lips were parched, and Gerald gave her water to drink from his flask. She gulped the water greedily, and then, tired and sore and shaken as she was, she smiled up at him and put her hands around him and drifted back to sleep.

  She was asleep only a short time then, and when she opened her eyes, it was still dark. But it seemed to Lucy that a multitude of white candles were lit up around them. She stared around her in wonder, as she took in the towering white flowers scattered all about them in the desert. Their delicate white petals seemed to reach out to the sky slowly turning to dawn in shades of rose and gold. As the first glow of the rising sun touched the pale white blossoms, they seemed to shine with a light of their own, like so many candles.

  "Lamps of the Lord, they call them," Gerald smiled. "The Yucca flower. The wild desert is not too bad for them. They say they grow especially lush after a fire. Here, have one."

  He cut a cluster of delicate white petals and handed it to Lucy. She breathed in the scent of them. It was sweet, fragrant and heady.

  "I like them," she said, nestling the flowers at the breast of her torn dress.

  "So do I," Gerald said, cutting another flower and putting it in her hair.

  The sun was shining high in the sky as they came to Gerald Steel's ranch. Lucy was too exhausted to notice details, but she liked the look of those rough wooden walls shaded by the hills, the sound of the river murmuring soothingly near and the cattle lowing in the corral. She had never been here before, and now she had a chance to see his home. And it was her home now, too, she realized, giddy.

  "You have a rocking-chair," she smiled, looking at his porch and seeing the thing. It had once been painted green, but now it was old and peeling. It was beautiful. "I dreamed of you having a ro
cking-chair. Reading Byron in it…"

  Gerald chuckled, helping her from the saddle. She could barely stand on her feet.

  "No Byron for you now, darling. You go straight to bed."

  He lifted her up in his arms, carrying her over the threshold as if she weighed nothing more than a feather. There was a large shaggy black dog inside, and it barked and wagged its tail.

  "Was that what happened to the preacher's wife?" Lucy asked drowsily as he carried her into the room with its walls of raw wood plank. The big bed occupied the most of it, and the window was half-open, making the white curtain flap slightly in the warm wind.

  "Who?" he frowned, lowering her onto the bed.

  "The preacher's wife." Lucy felt her eyes closing of their own accord, but she was nothing if not stubborn. "That preacher that your men ran off, and his wife disappeared…"

  "Oh. She lives with Harry now, right here at the ranch. She is much happier than she used to be. Now sleep," he smiled, wrapping her in a bed sheet tenderly and putting a pillow under her head.

  She did.

  She slept uneasily at first, her dreams full of blood and violence, but as the sun began to set, tingeing the wooden walls of the ranch a warm glowing gold, her breathing calmed as she sank deeper into sleep, clutching Gerald's pillow close to her face, breathing in the scent of him. She dreamed of him again as on those many nights away from him, she felt his kisses and caresses once more, and it made the sore ache between her legs intensify.

  "Oh, Gerald," she whispered in her sleep, feeling his hand slide to that delicious soreness inside her, his fingers caressing her and entering her and making her all so wet. And then she dreamed such a licentious thing, one she had never heard of or even thought of … she dreamed of him spreading her legs gently and kissing her there, his tongue and his lips making her writhe in pleasure and gasp in soft little dream-muffled moans.

  It is the sweetest dream, she thought, smiling, beginning to wake up and not wanting to wake up, because he was kissing the rest of her body now, his fingers back at her throbbing and aching wetness, his mouth on her breast, sucking and pulling on her nipple. The sweet torment she was feeling seemed too much to bear, and then her eyes flew open as she felt his large hardness thrust into her, and she realized it was no dream.

  "Oh," was all Lucy could say, her eyes still hazy from sleep, her mouth half-open in shocked surprise, and the acute pleasure she was feeling as he locked her in his arms, taking her. "Oh." He was kissing her, and she could taste her juice on his lips.

  "You taste sweet, darling," he grinned.

  This time it was even sweeter. The waves of pleasure rocked her as she held on to him, feeling his hard manhood drive into her time after time, answering his kisses and echoing his moans, holding him close to her as he came inside her with a deep, satisfied laugh.

  "How did you like it?" he asked later, his eyes glinting as they were resting in each other's arms and catching their breath. They were sprawled together on Gerald's big bed, sweat cooling on naked skin. It was almost night, and the crickets were chirping.

  "It didn't hurt like the last time," Lucy said, blushing a little.

  "That's a good thing," Gerald said, smiling. He threw an arm over her naked shoulders, and pulled the bed sheet around them. The days were very hot, but the nights could be chilly. But as Lucy lay in his bed and in his arms, tracing softly with her fingers the curls of hair on his chest and stomach, she thought she would never again feel cold, or frightened, or alone.

  Two weeks later, Lucy testified in court that Mr. Robert Nash's property had been attacked by the Comanche Indians. They had killed everyone and set the house on fire, she said, her voice trembling a little. Gerald Steel and his men had come in time to save her. She had the feeling they did not quite believe her, but she was the only surviving witness, and the legal authorities had to be satisfied with that. However, the people of Way's End gave her strange looks and avoided her company.

  She did not care. That evening after giving her testimony, she was back at Gerald Steel's ranch and in Gerald Steel's arms, and that was the only company she wanted or needed.

  She was a villain's woman now, and happy for it.

  The End

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