But he wasn’t sure what he should remember.Not anymore.He heard her steps behind him, and he opened his eyes.A lacy bit of cloud was waltzing across the sky.The wind was cool on his hot skin, and he drank in the mingled aromas of fish, burning wood, and pine.He was assaulted by sensations, overwhelmed by ordinary things that shouldn’t affect him.
“Rafe?”It was Ben’s voice.Worried.
“I’m all right,” he said.“It’s just …” Just what?He wished he knew.
“It’s just that you’re damn weak, and you need some food,” Ben finished for him.“You haven’t had anything since we left yesterday, have you?”
The question puzzled Rafe for a moment.And then he felt Shea sliding out between him and the door.For God’s sake, what was happening to his senses?He damn well couldn’t think.Not with her around.
He shook his head.“No.”
Ben looked sheepishly at Shea.“I don’t suppose there’s anything we can use for dishes?”
“Just one tin plate, I think.”
“That will have to do.”Ben’s eyes moved from her to Rafe.
That knowing glance jerked Rafe back to reality.He wanted to feel hostility.He wanted to feel anger.He wanted to feel indifference.
He wanted to take her in his arms.He wanted to kiss those cheeks that could flush so hotly, to touch that face that screwed up with such concentration.He wanted to see her smile.
Had he ever seen her smile?
Once.At the waterfall when she watched the bears.Not since then.Not before then.
What in hell had he done?
He had locked her in a place he himself couldn’t tolerate.He’d subjected her to terror and hunger, and still she had stayed and helped him.He had truly become an animal himself, and he could no longer blame it on others.
His eyes met hers, and he sensed she’d read some of his thoughts.
“I’ll get the plate,” she said.“And the spoon.”The latter was spoken wryly.He had taken all utensils except the spoon.
Rafe made his way slowly to the fire.“I … don’t like keeping her here,” he told Ben.
“Are you sure that’s the problem?”Ben said.“Not that you like it too much?”
Rafe grimaced.
“She’s seen both Clint and me.”
“I know,” Rafe said.“I don’t think she’ll say anything.…”
“Why wouldn’t she?Especially if she sees Clint at the Circle R.”
Rafe couldn’t explain it.He just knew it in his gut.But could he risk two lives because of instinct?Christ, he’d been wrong in the past.
“Do you want to give it up?”Ben asked quietly.“Just move on?”
“I can’t do that,” Rafe said, hearing his own ragged voice, hating it, hating the weakness.“I won’t do that,” he added, his voice stronger.He looked down at his hand, the lifelong reminder of exactly how much Jack Randall owed him.
Just then Shea reappeared, her face a little pale in the moonlight.Rafe wondered whether she’d heard anything.
Ben took the fish from the spit he’d fashioned over the fire and, after looking at Shea’s bandaged hand and Rafe’s wounded arm, pulled the flaky flesh away from the bone and offered the plate to Shea, who placed it between herself and Rafe.“What about you?”she asked Ben.
“I already ate,” he lied.“Mixed up a pan of beans.I’ll go look after the horses.”He made his way to the stable, leaving an uncomfortable silence.
As much as he wished differently, Rafe couldn’t dismiss the last few minutes in the cabin with Shea Randall.They echoed between them, the feelings and emotions still radiating in waves.He felt like a marionette, whose strings were being pulled by someone else.It was a familiar feeling, one he’d vowed would never be repeated.
