“Well, I’ve heard a few different versions,” Judge began, looking distressed.“Areyou all right?”
“I am fine,” Candice said vehemently “But I am sick of everyone thinking the worst!” She turned and strode away.
Remembering the kiss.
And it wasn’t just because of Judge’s words, or the gossips she was surrounded by. The kiss had haunted her and bothered her and agitated her for the past few days—ever since he had left.
It was one thing to feel compassion for a hurt man. It was another to allow a half-breed Indian to kiss her.
The guilt and the shame were intolerable. If any of her brothers ever found out, they would kill him—and certainly never respect her again. It was too awful to even contemplate. She would never be able to hold up her head around them—and if any of these people knew the truth …
She flushed. Furiously. But the anger was directed at herself. How could she have allowed him to kiss her? Why hadn’t she fought, struggled, screamed? And—worse—she had been more than passive. She had actually enjoyed his touch.
That was too outrageous and unbelievable to face, so she didn’t.
Everyone had assumed Jack Savage had escaped on his own. When Mark had returned, he had been furious over Jack’s disappearance. No one had known that Mark had had him tied, but no one seemed too upset over it. Her brother, Luke, did give her one long, thoughtful glance. Candice had forced herself to meet his gaze, but she’d felt her face pinkening. There was no way they could possibly guess that she had set Jack free.
There was one good thing. There was no reward posted for a gray-eyed half-breed, and Candice was surprised at the level of relief she felt. She just wished she could stop thinking about him, stop remembering the shared intimacy—God.
And five minutes later, when she was dancing a jig in Tim McGraw’s arms, she looked past Tim’s shoulder and thought she was seeing things. She actually tripped on Tim’s foot and almost fell on her face except that Tim’s strong arms were around her. She stared.
It was him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
He was standing completely apart from everyone, leaning against an oak tree. He was dressed from head to foot in store-bought clothes. Candice could not believe what she was seeing, the transformation. A spotless, brand-new black Stetson, a white cotton shirt, red bandana, and black trousers tucked into spanking new black boots. She looked at his face again. He was staring right at her.
The jolt took her breath away.
“Who is that?” McGraw was asking jealously.
Candice realized she was staring, and she quickly turned away, although she couldn’t stop seeing him in her mind’s eye. She was about to tell Tim “No one,” but knew Jack’s identity would soon be known—and then Tim would think she was hiding something. She bit her lip and found herself glancing at Jack again. He hadn’t taken his eyes from her. She remembered his body stretched out on top of hers, his mouth hard, sucking and nipping and caressing hers, and she flamed. “That’s Jack Savage, she said very softly.
McGraw whirled around, his eyes wide. “That breed?”
Candice had her hand on his arm, darting a nervous glance back at Jack. He had pushed himself away from the tree, watching them. “Tim, let it be. He saved my life. He has a right to be here too.”
“He sure as hell doesn’t,” Tim growled. “And I don’t like the way he’s looking at you.”
“If you make trouble, Tim,” Candice said, “I’ll never speak to you again.”
He stared, then clamped his mouth shut.
Candice led him away, trying not to look back. Her heart was beating wildly. Why was he here? Oh—how could he be so foolish? The High C hands would surely recognize him, even in his new clothes—and if they didn’t, Mark would, and he’d be sure to make trouble. She gnawed on her lip and quickly looked around at the crowd. No one was even looking at the man in black and white with the red scarf, standing by himself in the shade of the tree. But she couldn’t shake her uneasiness.
Why had he come?
“I can’t believe you’d stick up for him,” Tim said harshly.
“What? Tim, I’m so thirsty—could you please bring me some lemonade?” She watched him stride off. Her hands were shaking. She pulled out a linen handkerchief and blotted her face very delicately. It was so hot. Still holding the linen to her face, she turned toward Jack and peered over the handkerchiefs white lace edge.
He didn’t smile, and he didn’t look away.
Down came the handkerchief, and Candice began biting her knuckle. He looked so lonely—and alone. So separate from the crowd of laughing friends. Not able to come any closer, watching from afar. And he was extraordinarily handsome.
Her heart twisted.
Tim returned with the lemonade, and Candice was quick to pretend to be inspecting a cut on her hand. She gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Tim.” She took his arm and pulled him away.
