“You did rob those coaches,” she finally said in an uncertain voice.
“Of course I did,” he replied easily.
She felt anger prick at her again.She had never wanted to commit violence before, but she thought she might be able to do exactly that right now.“Why did you let me think …?”
The pretense of a smile left his face.“It doesn’t matter, Miss Randall.Now I’ll give you exactly four minutes before we go back to the cabin.”
As he watched Shea head for a thick clump of brush, Rafe regretted his cruelty.He hadn’t intended it.He had thought she would throw his past conviction in his face when he’d asked her how she knew he had committed the robberies.And then that damned doubt flitted through her eyes, touching him in ways he didn’t even want to think about.It had almost made him feel human again, had made hope bubble up inside him.But he didn’t want her doubts as to his guilt.He didn’t want her pity.Not from a Randall.
And so he had stepped on her, as he would step on an insect, carelessly and without thought.And he’d hurt her.
He kept his eyes on her head, on the fine brown hair that looked like silk.He kept his eyes there as a kind of punishment to himself.He didn’t think she would take this time to try to escape.She was too clever for that.She would wait until she had a head start, and then, wilderness or not, he suspected she would take off.
Rafe cursed himself, cursed that integrity and vulnerability about her that kept him off-balance.He told himself it was just an act, but he really didn’t believe it.Christ, he wanted to know about her relationship with the one man he despised above all others, and she wasn’t telling him.Because she knew he would use it to hurt Jack Randall.
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to avoid an unpleasant truth about himself.He would use her or any other human being to bring about justice.He wouldn’t, couldn’t, think beyond that, especially not the fact that this time he might be the one corrupting justice.Any doubts he had were dispelled when he glanced down at his hand.
Rafe sensed her approach.His senses tingled, just as they had ever since she arrived.He didn’t look at her, just picked up the bucket and started toward the cabin, knowing she had no choice but to follow.
Shea watched him as he moved restlessly around the cabin.She sensed he didn’t like being in here, and she supposed it was because of her presence.She looked nervously at the one cot in the room, and she wondered what he was planning for sleeping arrangements.
Tyler paid no mind to her as he quickly chose several cans of food and unsheathed the knife at his belt.He had opened the window, but it was dusk, and he was wrapped in shadows, which made him seem even more distant and enigmatic than ever.
She wished she could read him better.She had never seen anyone so contained, so infernally elusive.Very little showed in his eyes or face or expression, and she had always been good at ferreting out qualities and feelings of those she met.A couple of times she thought she’d seen a wisp of humor, but then he had tamped it immediately.She wondered whether she’d just imagined it because she wanted to see some lighter emotion in him to temper that deep, seething anger he made no attempt to hide.
He was certainly making no attempt to mask it now.She had the impression of an angry wounded tiger, just waiting to turn on a victim, as he knifed open the cans, then set them down much too softly, as if he had to keep himself from doing it in a more violent way.He produced a spoon for her, offering it to her with a mocking bow.He then took a couple of additional cans in his hand and whirled around, stalking outside.
The cabin still seemed full of his presence, and she felt dwarfed by it, by the anger that surrounded him.A part of her wanted to follow him, to keep loneliness at bay, but her pride wouldn’t let her.
To brighten the darkness, both real and emotional, she lit a candle and placed it on the table, and then sat down.He had opened two cans of peaches and a can of beans for her.There were also some dried strips of jerky.
She loved peaches and would normally have found them wonderful, but now she ate merely to keep up her strength so she could ultimately outwit and outmatch her captor.But she felt sick inside, wondering about tonight, wondering about him.So much had happened in the past twelve hours, so much had changed since the time she’d thought she was on her way to see the man who had fathered her.
She wondered where the mouse was.Maybe she would just leave the food here for him.Or was it a her?
Shea went to the open door and looked out.Only a pink glow remained of the sun, which had already set.She didn’t see her captor, but she did see her valise and drawing case.The door to the other building was open, and she wondered whether she should try to escape now.
She moved to the valise and picked it up, still undecided.The day had turned cool.It would get even colder tonight, and she would need something other than the lightweight shirt she wore.Just as she thought she might make a dash for it, no matter what, he sauntered out of the other building, as if he had been waiting for the moment when she would make up her mind.
“Going someplace?”he drawled.
“I’m cold,” she said.“Do you object to me wearing my own clothes?”
“Not if I see what’s in there first.”
The thought of him riffling through her undergarments was intolerable, but she knew better than to wage a war she couldn’t win.
“If it gives you pleasure,” she said, and this time she was taunting him, though she knew she shouldn’t.
His brows arched together with displeasure, but then he shrugged.“Think what you want.”
“I don’t carry guns with me.”
“A mirror could be just as dangerous,” he said.
“In your hands, perhaps,” she said acidly.
“You don’t like violence, Miss Randall?”
