“Lightning.”
The soft voice, like the glimmer of a single star in a midnight sky, broke through his savage craze. He lowered his guns and stared at the four dead men lying in the mud.
The infamous Blanco y Negro Gang. Dead. He’d killed them. They’d tried to hurt Theodosia.
But one had escaped.
Again, he raised his guns toward the outlaw riding out of the rain-swept field.
Something touched his back. Fingers. They trembled.
“Roman.”
He groaned, spun in the mud, and lifted Theodosia into his arms. With one mighty motion, he set her upon Secret’s back, then collected his fallen weapons and swung into the saddle.
Theodosia laid her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him as he urged Secret into a ground-eating gallop. She could still hear the thunder, rain smacked her skin, and the stallion’s hooves made a battering noise.
But the loudest sound of all was the beat of Roman’s heart.
Her breath warmed Roman’s chest. He held her tighter and felt her shake. She was so wet, he thought. Her breath was warm, but her breasts were cold.
And bare.
Anger erupted inside him again. He wanted to scream. Instead, he kept Secret on a swift and steady course toward the small cabin in the near distance. When he finally pulled on the reins, the stallion came to an abrupt but smooth halt.
Theodosia in his arms, Roman dismounted and raced toward the cabin. One firm kick opened the door; another closed it.
He stopped in the front room. One look at it told him exactly what had happened.
Theodosia’s belongings lay scattered all over the floor, and Roman knew her gold was gone. Apparently, the Blanco y Negro Gang had found the cabin before they’d found Theodosia.
He stared at the empty fireplace, knowing he had to voice the question in his mind but dreading its answer. “Did they rape you?”
She heard nothing but his heartbeat. It sounded through her, releasing a twisted torrent of memories. “The Comanches,” she said, speaking into his chest. “Hammond was glad they killed the Indians, Roman.”
He frowned. What the hell was she talking about?
“One escaped,” Theodosia whispered, “with a baby. Hammond hoped they died, but perhaps they were Mamante and his son. You gave them food. A horse, and a rifle. But first you fought Mamante. You returned his pride. He hired the lady from town to bring the picnic. Hammond did.”
She clawed at his shirt when she saw more lightning through the window. “I tried to find you last night, but the door wouldn’t open. Secret was gone, and I knew you were too. The lady made roast beef, but I could only think of raisin sandwiches.”
Realizing she was incoherent, Roman carried her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. The sight of her bare breasts made him clench his fists.
But with a gentleness that belied his brutal fury, he began to remove her wet clothes. When she was naked, he drew a quilt over her body, gathered her in his arms, and held her close.
“He said it was a surprise,” Theodosia whispered. “This cabin. But I would have remembered you, no matter where he took me. He wasn’t the one, Roman. I could not have lain with him.”
Roman understood then that she had not lost her innocence to Hammond Llewellyn. But what about the Blanco y Negro Gang? “Theodosia—”
“I smelled the storm. Heard it. The sparrows flew low over the meadow. I imagined the blossoms skimmed their bellies. Beneath the tree. Roman, we were beneath the tree. Picnicking. With all the lightning. Just like my parents. I—I have never known such terror.”
She made no sound, but he felt her tears wet his cold damp shirt.
“I was afraid, Roman, and so was he. He left me. And then I was by myself with the lightning and those men. I ran, as quickly as I could. But the lightning chased me, and so did those men. I made a wish. Not on a star, but on Enchanted Hill. And then you came.”
“So they didn’t—”
“No. You killed them before they could. One got away.”
