Chapter 10
Burke searched the gray sky. Heavy rain clouds drifted in from the distance, promising a downpour. He checked the perimeter of the camp once again and saw nothing. He took his frustration out on a rock, kicking it with his boot and sending it tumbling.
It had been six days since Storm and Tanin had left. He hadn’t been informed of their absence. It was the day after he had dumped Storm on her bed. He had intended on rising early to see that she took it easy for the day, giving her shoulder time to heal.
She wasn’t in her quarters and no one would tell him a thing until Malcolm finally returned to camp and told him she’d be away a few days. He would say no more, and Burke had no choice but to accept the snippet of information.
He had advised Malcolm that he could have helped. Malcolm had told him not this time, which made him worry even more.
He hoped it didn’t have anything to do with Cullen. It would annoy him if Storm had gone off on a matter concerning his brother without him, but then they had never agreed that he would be privy to all information regarding his brother, only that she would help locate him.
Being it was the sixth day, he was growing concerned, though no one else seemed to. Activity went on as usual, and he had become familiar with the camp in Storm’s absence.
It ran smoothly, with everyone tending to specific chores and none complaining or shirking their duties. They were a fine group working together to survive. That his money was needed was evident in the tattered and patched clothes, the sparse food, and the lack of adequate weapons.
Laughter, however, was prevalent, as were smiles and camaraderie. They were a contented lot for outlaws.
Burke kept busy hunting with Malcolm, making repairs to weapons, and getting to know those in the camp. But there wasn’t a day that he didn’t think of Storm and worry over her.
What was so urgent that it took her away when she needed to recover from her wound? Why didn’t she send someone else or ask for his help? Why was he so annoyed that she left without him?
He finally joined Malcolm and Angus to feast on the rabbit cooking on a spit over the campfire.
“Eat. Rain comes soon,” Angus said, already biting into a fat piece of meat.
Conversation was sparse and the rabbit near cleaned to the bone when the first drop of rain hit. It sent everyone scurrying for shelter.
Burke scanned the edge of the woods. Disappointed that nothing came into sight, he hurried to his quarters in the trees. He stripped off his damp shirt and threw it over the chest to dry, then stretched out on the bed, cushioned his arms beneath his head, and listened to the rain.
He wondered if Storm had safe, dry shelter, or if she huddled cold and wet somewhere. Knowing her, she’d survive either way.
She intrigued him. She had since they first met, dressed as a man, though more resembling a lad. Her face betrayed her gender. She was much too beautiful to be anything but a woman. Add stubborn to that and it rounded out her gender, but then obstinate women were a challenge, and what man could turn down a challenge?
He grinned as night crawled into the room and laid claim to it, except for the small glow of the hearth fire. It amazed him the way a hearth was constructed in the tree houses. It was small but functional, and Burke wondered about the designer’s identity.
Storm had seen to making this a safe haven for them all, but nothing lasted forever. What would happen when a rescue failed, men were lost, and funds ran out?
The future didn’t look bright for the outlaws, but then did a fugitive really have a future?
He recalled Storm when she dressed as a woman and how lovely she looked. He could only imagine how her beauty would shine if she was dressed in new garments. But what good would new garments do her here in the forest, fighting the soldiers?
She could return to America with him.
The unexpected thought rattled him. This was her home, her land, and her people. She was born and raised here and had even warned him that Cullen might very well refuse to leave. He imagined she would as well.
He could do only so much for her, and the thought saddened him.
His eyes drifted shut as he thought how much she might like the Dakota Territory and what a shame that she’d never get a chance to see it.
A crack of thunder woke him with a start and he jolted up in bed. He could hear the rain still, and something else. He swung his legs off the bed, and cocked his head at the sound, his ears trying to determine its origin.
Footsteps. Had Storm returned?
He hurried out of his room, forgetting his shirt. Her door stood ajar, and he thought he heard voices, so he entered without knocking.
She stood naked before the burning hearth, her back to him and her slim body glistening from the rain that dotted her pale skin. She was exquisite; a narrow waist that curved to round hips and taut buttocks, and skin that appeared as soft as a fresh rose petal.
She shivered, her skin running wild with gooseflesh, and he quickly grabbed the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her, drawing her back into his arms to rest against his chest.
