Oklahoma Bride
Carol Finch
YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!To a woman who was all fire, sass and temptation that was a hell of a hello! But army major Rafe Hunter had no choice. Karissa Baxter was a "Sooner" attempting to secure the homestead she wanted before the start of the Land Run, danger–and rules–be damned! But what about what he wanted? And what if what he wanted was her?WHO DID RAFE HUNTER THINK HE WAS?All spit and polish, and with Eastern money to boot! Unlike the hardscrabble types Karissa was used to, he could never understand what drove her to go after her dreams. So how had he managed to quick-march his way into her heart?
“You are under arrest,”
he muttered as he grabbed her elbow and frog-marched her ashore. “What’s your name, woman?”
She tilted her chin defiantly, clamped her mouth shut and glowered at him as he dragged her alongside him.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” he asked.
“In places I’m sure you’ve never been, General,” she said impudently.
“Obviously. Where I come from ladies don’t brawl. I have already determined—the hard way—that you’re no lady. Furthermore, I’m not a general. I’m the commandant at Fort Reno. Major Rafe Hunter.”
She twisted to flash him a smirk. “You’re from back East, right? Uppity accent. Imperious demeanor. Wealth and pedigree, no doubt. Don’t you have better things to do than sneak around, assaulting defenseless women?”
“Defenseless?” he hooted. “I can think of a dozen adjectives to describe you, but defenseless isn’t on the list!”
Praise for Carol Finch
“Carol Finch is known for her lightning-fast,
roller-coaster-ride adventure romances that are
brimming over with a large cast of characters
and dozens of perilous escapades.”
—Romantic Times
Praise for previous titles
Bounty Hunter’s Bride
“Longtime Carol Finch fans…
will be more than satisfied.”
—Romantic Times
Call of the White Wolf
“The wholesome goodness of the characters…
will touch your heart and soul.”
—Rendezvous
“A love story that aims straight for the heart
and never misses.”
—Romantic Times
Oklahoma Bride
Carol Finch
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to my husband, Ed,
and our children, Jill, Jon, Christie, Jeff, Kurt
and Shawnna. And to our grandchildren, Blake, Livia,
Brooklynn and Kennedy. Hugs and kisses!
A special thank you to my editor, Kim Nadelson.
It is a pleasure to be working with you!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter One
Indian Territory
April, 1889
R afe Hunter lifted his hand to bring his patrol of soldiers to a halt. His roan gelding, Sergeant, shifted impatiently beneath him, anxious to return to Fort Reno and the anticipated bucket of grain in his stall. Rafe panned the rolling plains that stood knee-high in waving grass then glanced toward the tree-lined creek that meandered southeast.
It was hard to imagine that in a couple of weeks this peaceful countryside would be the site of the nation’s first Land Run. He had the unenviable task of guarding the western boundary to the two million acres of free land. It was his responsibility to insure would-be settlers didn’t jump the gun and sneak in to stake their claims prematurely.
In addition, it was his duty to keep a watchful eye on the Cheyenne-Arapaho reservation near the garrison. The extra obligation of gathering up trespassers demanded long days and stretched his company of soldiers to the limits.
When Rafe glanced over his shoulder, his longtime friend—and second in command—lifted a questioning brow. “A problem, Commander?”
“No, just taking time to appreciate the peaceful moment before all hell breaks loose,” Rafe replied.
Micah Whitfield grinned wryly. “By the end of the month, I wonder if any of us will recall what peaceful feels like.”
Rafe stared past Micah to focus on the five prisoners the patrol had flushed from the nearby creeks. The Sooners—as the army referred to the illegal squatters—had set up camp inside the territory, hoping to claim prime property before thousands of anxious settlers could make the Run. After three weeks of relentless patrolling, Rafe and his company of men had a stockade crammed full of Sooners who refused to follow the rules.
To Rafe Hunter a rule was a rule was a rule. Those who broke the rules paid the consequences.
Rafe’s attention shifted southeast when he picked up a familiar scent in the evening breeze. Micah must have recognized the scent, too, for he followed Rafe’s searching gaze.
“There’s more Sooners hunkering down out there,” Micah said quietly.
Rafe scowled. “There’s always more Sooners scuttling around out there. You capture five and there’s another five waiting to take their place. At the rate we’re going we’ll have to build another stockade to house them all.”
“If you want to make another sweep of the area to determine who started the campfire I’ll go with you,” Micah volunteered.
“No, you take the prisoners back to the fort,” Rafe requested. “I’ll reconnoiter the area alone.”
While Micah led the patrol back to the fort Rafe reined his reluctant mount toward the tree-choked creek. Although he was tired and hungry, he was determined to rout out another nest of Sooners. By damned, this unprecedented Land Run was going to be fair for all participants—at least if he had anything to say about it.
Rafe dismounted and left his gelding to graze. Employing the Indian-warfare skills Micah had taught him, Rafe moved silently along the creek, following the faint scent of smoke that had caught his attention earlier. To his surprise he spotted a young boy dressed in homespun clothes. Rafe scanned the shadows, expecting to see a crowd of Sooners migrating toward the small campfire. He frowned curiously, wondering if the boy’s family had sent him into the territory alone to illegally stake a claim.
The smell of brewing coffee and a simmering pot of beans made Rafe’s stomach growl. He had been on patrol all day, wolfing down trail rations for lunch and wearing calluses on his backside. And here was this scrawny kid, tucked discreetly beneath a copse of trees, preparing a tasty meal and lounging by the fire.
It just hit Rafe all wrong. He wasn’t going to wait until daybreak to come swarming down with his army patrol. He was going to arrest this kid and haul him back to the fort tonight. Then he was going to seek out this boy’s parents and chastise them for sending a child out into the wilderness alone.
He wondered if the kid’s family expected a soldier to show leniency and look the other way. It wouldn’t be the first time some scheming adult had tried that tactic. But it wasn’t going to work with Rafe.
This kid was not going to spend the night, nestled up to the heat of the small campfire, Rafe decided. He was going to find himself wedged into the stockade with the other prisoners. That should teach the kid a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.
Filled with purpose, Rafe circled around the trees to sneak up on the young boy’s blind side. “You’re trespassing, son, and you’re under arrest,” Rafe growled as he emerged from his hiding place.
The kid shrieked in surprise, bounded to his feet and took off through the trees like a cannonball. There was not the usual moment of paralyzed shock, just immediate flight. In addition, the kid was amazingly agile and swift of foot. He zigzagged around the trees like a gazelle.
Scowling at finding himself in a footrace with a kid half his size, Rafe took off at a dead run. “Halt!” he shouted authoritatively.
The boy didn’t break stride, just whizzed through the trees and underbrush and never looked back.
Rafe tackled the kid before he could leap over the narrow creek, scramble up the steep incline and disappear in the thick underbrush. He and the boy landed with a splat, and Rafe hooked his arm around his captive’s waist.
To his amazement the worming bundle of energy smacked him in the nose with an elbow, squirmed sideways and arched his back. Rafe found himself on the losing end of a mud-wrestling contest before he could blink. The kid was so slippery that he very nearly slithered away before Rafe could grab him by the scruff of his tattered jacket and yank him off balance.
With an enraged squawk the boy fell facedown in the creek. Rafe bounded to his feet and hoisted the kid upright before he took on too much water and drowned.
To Rafe’s amazement the waterlogged kid thrust back his leg—and hit Rafe squarely in the crotch. Rafe’s knees buckled beneath him, but he kept a death grip on the squirming kid, determined not to let him escape and have to recapture him again.
“Hold still, damn it!” Rafe growled threateningly, then gave the kid a good shaking. “You—”
Rafe’s voice dried up when the boy’s scruffy cap fell off and dropped into the creek. A waterfall of flaming red hair tumbled to the kid’s shoulders. “You’re a girl!” Rafe croaked in disbelief.
He was still trying to digest that startling discovery when the female in question ducked her head and plowed into his midsection, causing the air in his lungs to rush out in a pained whoosh.
All those lectures—delivered by his grandfather and father—about treating a lady with the utmost respect and consideration flew right out of his head when the woman shoved him back into the creek and tried to use him as a doormat to make her escape.
In all his thirty-three years he had never encountered a female quite like this one. And this one was no lady, Rafe decided as he made a quick grab for her ankle. This was a scrappy, two-legged wildcat who knew how to fight dirty and didn’t mind utilizing every trick in the book to make her getaway.
Scrappy female or not, she was an illegal Sooner and it was his job to evict her from the territory, even at the risk of personal injury—which he had already suffered at her hands. His groin was throbbing like a son of a bitch. His ribs were still tender after she had used her head like a battering ram. Plus, the claw marks she had left on his neck, during their most recent struggle for supremacy, were bleeding onto the collar of his mud-soaked shirt.
“Enough!” he roared as he concentrated all his energy on rolling on top of her and pinning her down in the water.
Rafe’s conscience tried to deliver a scathing lecture when he straddled her bucking hips, clamped his hand over her face and held her head under water until she stopped resisting. But his noble conscience relented when she practically bit a chunk out of his hand.
Muttering, Rafe shifted the heel of his hand to her forehead and held her underwater until all the fight went out of her. When she sagged beneath him, as if she were about to succumb to drowning, he wondered if this was another of the many dirty tricks in her surprising repertoire. And sure enough, she began to struggle again, lashing out with her arms and fists, trying to do enough physical damage to unseat him.
Only when Rafe was reasonably certain that he had held her underwater so long that her lungs were about to burst did he grab a fistful of her hair and pull her into a sitting position beneath him. She exploded to the surface like a spouting whale, cocked her arm and tried to punch him in the nose.
Rafe hurriedly shifted sideways so the intended blow connected with air. He jerked her up beside him while she raked that mop of red hair from her eyes. As she struggled to get her bearings, Rafe fished into the pocket of his soggy jacket for a length of rope to shackle her wrists. Thankfully, he was able to restrain her before she used those deadly claws on him again.
“You are under arrest,” he muttered as he grabbed her elbow and frog-marched her ashore. “What’s your name, woman?”
She tilted her chin defiantly, clamped her mouth shut and glowered at him as he dragged her alongside him to fetch his horse.
Ten minutes later Rafe scooped up the woman and plunked her atop Sergeant. Keeping a firm grip on her leg, he swung up behind her. With her hands secured in the middle of her back, her elbows out so she couldn’t clobber him in the midsection, Rafe wrapped one arm around her waist to insure she didn’t launch herself off the horse during their jaunt to the fort. Given the battle royal he had just encountered with this female, he wouldn’t put another escape attempt past her.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” he asked five miles later.
“In places I’m sure you have never been, General,” she sassed.
“Obviously not. Where I come from, ladies don’t brawl. I have already determined—the hard way—that you’re no lady. Furthermore, I’m not a general. I’m the commandant at Fort Reno. Major Rafe Hunter.”
She twisted in the saddle to flash him a smirk. “You’re from back East, right? Uppity accent. Imperious demeanor. Wealth and pedigree, no doubt. Don’t you have better things to do than sneak around, assaulting defenseless women?”
“Defenseless?” he hooted. “I can think of a dozen adjectives to describe you, but defenseless isn’t on the list.”
She fell silent as they approached the post, and Rafe made no further attempt to pry information from her. It rankled that she poked fun at the privileged background he had spent years trying to overcome. He had prided himself on becoming his own man rather than flitting by on the laurels accorded to him by the illustrious Hunter family name. Rafe had worked damn hard to prove himself capable and responsible to assume command of this military fort. But in one fell swoop, and in a few choice words, this sassy hellion implied that his personal accomplishments were the result of his family pulling strings to land him this position.
When Rafe halted at the hitching post in front of officers’ quarters, Micah was leaning negligently against the doorjamb. Micah’s astute gaze drifted over the female captive then focused on Rafe’s disheveled appearance. The hint of a smile quirked his lips as he pushed away from the door to assist the captive from the horse.
“Met with trouble, did you?” Micah questioned as he set the woman on her feet then clamped an arm around her elbow.
Rafe watched in amazement as the hellcat—who had tried to claw him to shreds—turned a radiant smile on Micah. “If that question was directed to me, sir, then the answer is yes. I would like to press charges against your commanding officer for molestation and assault.”
Rafe nearly choked when the woman mimicked his Eastern accent and projected an air of ladylike dignity. When Micah’s befuddled gaze bounced back and forth between Rafe and the woman, he had the impulsive urge to spout his denial of her outrageous accusations.
“Well?” the woman prompted haughtily. “Don’t I have the right to protest such ill treatment, just because Rafe Hunter is the commandant of this fort?”
“I…uh…” Micah stammered, his blue-eyed gaze leaping from one mud-covered face to the other.
“Come along, miss,” Rafe muttered as he towed her into the foyer of officers’ quarters. “Captain Micah Whitfield is second in command and he’s a longtime friend of mine. Your ploy won’t work on him.” He hoped.
To Micah he said, “She’s the one who set up the campfire that we detected before you led the patrol back to the fort.”
Micah’s eyes widened as he reassessed the woman in muddy breeches, faded shirt and patched jacket. “You were out there alone?” he asked incredulously.
She turned pleading green eyes on Micah, graced him with that feigned-innocent smile and began her spiel about traveling cross-country to rejoin her family and how she had resorted to wearing men’s clothes to protect herself from lecherous men—like the post commander.
Rafe barked a laugh. He didn’t believe this feisty little con artist for a minute. He had seen her fight like the very devil and then he had watched her turn on the charm for Micah’s benefit.
“That is more than enough,” Rafe interrupted her long-winded explanation. “Don’t waste your breath. Micah isn’t as gullible as he looks.”
Whoever this woman was, it was glaringly apparent that she was adept at living by her wits and she would say anything in an attempt to talk her way out of trouble.
Rafe grabbed the woman’s arm, wheeled toward the door, then halted in his tracks. As much as he would like to stuff this feisty female in the stockade that was bulging with men, he couldn’t. If she antagonized any of them the way she had smarted off to him they would collectively strangle her. Either that or she would find herself molested repeatedly before the guards could reach her. He really had no choice but to lock her in his quarters for the night and bunk with Micah.
“I’ll keep her in my room,” he announced as he reversed direction.
Micah’s dark brows shot up.
The woman refused to budge from the spot. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Well, good, thought Rafe. It was about time this mouthy hellion showed him some wary respect.
Rafe uprooted the woman and herded her into his tidy quarters. He slammed the door shut then positioned a chair under the doorknob to make sure she didn’t escape while he wasn’t here to stop her. With Micah hot on his heels, Rafe walked back outside to lead his weary mount to the stables.
“You gonna explain what is going on or just leave it to my vivid imagination?” Micah teased as he fell into step beside Rafe.
“That female is a chameleon,” Rafe declared. “She might have been charming to you, but she fought like a cornered Apache when I apprehended her. I’ve encountered less resistance and more respect from the men we’ve taken into custody. I was kicked, bitten and clawed repeatedly.”
“So I see.” Micah chuckled in amusement as he appraised Rafe’s frazzled appearance. “Makes me wish I had insisted on going with you. I’d like to have witnessed that battle.”
“It wasn’t a pretty sight.” Rafe’s stomach growled, reminding him that it was long past supper. “I tried to remind myself that I was brawling with a woman, but it wasn’t easy when she fought like a man.”
“I like a woman with spunk and spirit,” Micah said, blue eyes twinkling.
“You’re welcome to her,” Rafe shot back. “I’m accustomed to a woman who behaves like a lady.”
“Like your fiancée? Ah, yes, the poised and dignified Vanessa Payton. Ask me, that will be a dull marriage indeed.”
“Marriage is part of my obligation to my family,” Rafe reminded him with a casual shrug. “You know perfectly well that I’m devoted to my position here. The army is my life.”
“Which is obviously why you allowed your grandfather, the general, and your father, also a general, to arrange this marriage. As I recall, you’ve only met the lovely Vanessa twice. How can you possibly know if you’ll suit?”
“That’s just the way it’s done in my family,” Rafe replied as he led Sergeant into the stall to remove the saddle.
“Being a half-breed, raised among the Choctaw tribe, I was taught to believe that a man and woman should have a certain affection for each other when they marry. You have heard the word love before, haven’t you, my friend?” Micah taunted.
“Heard of it,” Rafe agreed as he grabbed a brush to tend his prize gelding. “Never associated it with marriage, however. My grandparents’ marriages were arranged, as were my parents, as mine has been. It’s no different than accepting an assignment with the army. You take what you are given and you make the best of it.”
“And my parents, though they hailed from drastically different cultures and contrasting civilizations, defied it all because they loved each other,” Micah maintained then grinned teasingly. “All I can say is that you whites have a strange way of looking at things. And some say Indians are heathens,” he added with a smirk. “Ask me, it’s the other way around.”
“Be that as it may,” Rafe said as he rewarded Sergeant with a bucket of grain, “I agreed to marry Vanessa when the Land Run is over and business in this territory is functioning smoothly.”
He pivoted to shoulder his way past Micah, who was leaning leisurely against the top rail of the stall. “In the meantime, I have to focus my time and efforts on protecting the Unassigned Lands against settler intrusion and attempt to maintain law and order.”
Micah shrugged as he followed Rafe from the stables. “Whatever you say, Major Hunter, but I still contend there is life beyond the military. After I served with the Choctaw light-horsemen to police the territory and guarantee my credentials, I joined the army so I wouldn’t be stuck on the reservation like my mother’s people. I’m not married to the army. When the right woman comes along, I intend to marry for love, not because her name will sound good when it’s linked to mine. That, I assure you, will be my very last consideration.”
Honestly, Rafe sometimes wondered how he and Micah had formed such a strong, lasting friendship when they came from such different walks of life. Maybe the truth was that Rafe envied Micah’s laid-back manner and his philosophies that were steeped in Indian beliefs.
In the early years of their friendship they had relied on each other’s knowledge and backgrounds to broaden their horizons and make them well-rounded soldiers. Now they were as close as brothers and had saved each other’s hide several times during harrowing campaigns against the hostile Plains Indians who had escaped from the reservations in New Mexico.
“Let me know if you need help dealing with your latest prisoner,” Micah commented as he veered toward his quarters.
Rafe snorted at the reminder of the upcoming encounter with the red-haired firebrand who was occupying his room. Now there was a woman he could never love—if there was such a thing as love.
Indeed, Micah was welcome to the smart-mouthed little witch. Rafe preferred to associate with women who allowed him to behave like the gentleman his family had groomed him to be. It didn’t sit well to know that he had tackled a woman, straddled her hips and held her underwater until she practically drowned, just to make her surrender.
Rafe smiled in reluctant admiration when he recalled how that belligerent hellion had refused to accept defeat, despite the odds against her. She had more spunk and spirit than most men he knew.
Exasperated, Karissa Baxter paced Commander Hunter’s living quarters. It irked her that the bedroom and sitting room were neat as pins. Everything was in its proper place—lined up like soldiers on parade.
Most of the men she had encountered in her twenty-six years never bothered to pick up after themselves. Her father certainly hadn’t and neither did her younger brother, Clint. She had taken care of him since he was six years old and she had tried to become the mother they had lost to typhoid. Because she felt sorry for Clint, she had pampered him.
Karissa halted beside the window when the regimental band stuck up a lively tune. There was no way she could escape through the window, not with so many soldiers milling around the place. She had already tried the door and found it had been secured from outside. The commander had taken extra precautions because she had made the mistake of letting him know she wasn’t beneath doing whatever necessary to escape.
Karissa sighed audibly and resumed her pacing, serenaded by the regimental band. How long was she going to be detained at the fort? Probably until His Highness decreed that she could leave. And if Rafe Almighty Hunter thought for one minute that she was going to provide him with sexual satisfaction while she was under arrest then he had another think coming!
She had learned long ago to size up men and situations quickly and she could think of only one reason Rafe insisted that she would stay in his private quarters. For all his refined good looks and prestigious position at the fort, he was still a man, she reminded herself cynically.
The thought caused her to break stride. She was a woman who had learned to stand up for herself and depend on no one but herself. She had also learned to take advantage of situations, to survive as best she could. If Rafe Hunter had in mind to take her to bed while she was under arrest then she was damn well going to make it worth her while.
In short, one favor exchanged for another. If she was forced to give up her innocence then, by damned, she was going to profit from it.
She would negotiate with that dignified commander who ruled this roost. One night in his bed for her freedom. That was the deal. He was not getting something that intimate and personal from her for nothing!
She was determined to quit this place and return to the new territory to protect the land she wanted to claim. Yet, the prospect of surrendering to the lusty desires of a man unsettled her. Karissa had spent years mastering the art of discouraging men from approaching her with amorous intentions. Never once had she tried to attract a man’s attention. Who would have thought that she would be standing here wishing she had the skills of an accomplished courtesan?
Karissa laughed at the absurdity of the thought, but she didn’t laugh for long. She had made a pact with herself to do whatever it took for her and her brother to make a fresh new start in the newly created Oklahoma Territory. After being dragged along behind her father from one saloon to another in every cow town in Kansas, she asked for nothing more than to put down roots and have a home.
She was sick to death of the gypsy lifestyle her father had forced on her and Clint. Sick to death of being referred to as the gambler’s brats and treated like pariahs by the so-called respectable members of local society.
Having been soured by proper society’s condescension, it was little wonder that she had felt instant hostility toward the fort commander. In her mind he represented the establishment that had treated her shabbily for years on end. Yet, despite his position of authority, despite his mud-caked eyebrows and eyelashes, despite smudges of slime on his chin and cheeks, he was still the most strikingly attractive man she had ever laid eyes on.
He stood six feet four inches tall and had to weigh more than two hundred pounds—she should know since he had nearly squashed her flat while he sat on her to hold her down in the creek. His eyes were the color of hammered steel. His shoulders were noticeably broad and his long legs were solid muscles—she knew that, too, because she had been pressed flush against him during the ride to the garrison.
Although she definitely disliked Rafe on general principle, there was no denying that he could turn a woman’s head. Even Karissa’s.
“Obviously, he held you under water so long that it turned your brain to bog,” Karissa muttered at herself.
When the doorknob rattled, Karissa spun around and mentally prepared herself. She struck a saucy pose, imitating dozens of dance-hall queens who called attention to themselves to entice drunken cowboys to private rooms, in exchange for cash.
Rafe Hunter whizzed into the room and halted abruptly. He snapped back his raven head, drew himself up to full stature and stared down his patrician nose at her. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, it won’t work,” he said stiffly. “Do you really expect to pull off that come-hither look, while standing there in mud-covered men’s clothes?”
Despite his unflattering remark, Karissa marshaled her courage and unfastened the top two buttons on her shirt. Sure enough, those steel-gray eyes dropped to her chest. Typical man, she thought bitterly. He might be standing there spouting indignantly, but like the rest of his kind, his brains were located beneath his belt buckle. No matter how aloof and dignified the commander believed himself to be, she suspected that he, too, was a slave to his insatiable passions.
“I plan to be standing here wearing nothing but a smile,” she purred as she unfastened another button on her shirt. “You really aren’t planning to complain about that, are you, General?”
To her amused satisfaction, his Adam’s apple bobbed repeatedly and his gaze focused on her bosom. Now, if she could keep him preoccupied with the prospect of taking a tumble in his bed, she might be able to catch him unawares, elude him and make her getaway on the nearest horse.
It was definitely worth a try, she decided as she sauntered provocatively toward him and flashed him an inviting smile.
Chapter Two
“B ehave yourself,” Rafe demanded, though the flicker in his eyes indicated that he wasn’t averse to seeing a bit more feminine skin.
Karissa halted a few feet away from him and struck what she hoped was another irresistible pose. “My dear general, you know perfectly well that I have a penchant for misbehaving,” she said in the most seductive voice she could muster. “I have a proposition for you.”
She slid her hands up and over his massive shoulders and felt him tense beneath her fingertips. It gave her an odd sense of power and satisfaction to realize this distinguished military officer was leery yet exceptionally aware of her as a woman.
Damn, if she didn’t like knowing that he wasn’t sure what to expect from her next and that he was fascinated, in spite of himself.
“What kind of proposition?” he croaked. His eyes dipped to her bosom then he quickly jerked those rainstorm-colored eyes back to her smudged face.
“I think you know what I’m suggesting.” She glided her fingers through his raven hair then inclined her head toward his bed. “You won’t have a fight on your hands this time…provided you meet my terms.”
His dark brows snapped together as he stared down at her. “Am I to understand that you’re offering to sleep with me if I agree to release you in the morning?”
His disapproving frown threatened to rattle her composure. She had been certain that any man, even the commander, would succumb to his lusty desires when opportunity presented itself. Men rarely saw past the moment. She, on the other hand, was prepared to do whatever necessary for her release so she could secure her dream of a home in the newly established territory.
Wasn’t it just her luck that she had encountered a man who was apparently the exception to the rules she thought applied to all men?
Chin held high, she stepped back to look down her nose at him—even if he was a good foot taller than she was. “Oh, come now, General, surely you didn’t think I’d let you waltz in here and take me to bed without bartering for my freedom.”
He jerked back as if she had slapped him. “I have no intention of taking you to bed,” he declared.
“You didn’t put me under arrest in your room so you could take advantage of me?” Karissa smirked at him. “You really expect me to believe that? Just how stupid do I look?”
“You don’t look the least bit stupid. During our brawl in the creek, I discovered that you’re as wily as a fox. And I did expect you to believe that I was trying to show you a modicum of courtesy and consideration,” he snapped as he veered around her to gather fresh clothing from his trunk.
“I couldn’t very well put you in a stockade that is teeming with men. Therefore, I brought you here for your own protection. Though why I bothered, after that little performance, I’m sure I don’t know.” He did an abrupt about-face and glared at her. “I plan to bunk in Micah’s quarters for the night.”
Karissa’s jaw sagged in amazement. She had totally misinterpreted the commander’s intentions and she had come off looking like a trollop. Despite what he thought, she was the farthest thing from a woman who made her living on her back.
“I’m posting a guard outside the window and one outside the door,” he informed her briskly. “You’ll stay here until you promise me that you will not sneak back into the territory before the Run.”
“I promise,” she said swiftly. “May I leave now?”
Rafe halted beside her. A sardonic smile touched the corners of his sensuous mouth. “You might find this astonishing, but I don’t trust you.”
“I gave you my promise,” she sassed him. “That’s all you asked for.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him defiantly. “Some commander you are, General, if you change your mind every other minute.”
“Well, this decision stands,” he said with brusque finality. “You’ll be here indefinitely. It’s the only way to guarantee your safety and I can think of nothing worse than a woman so belligerent and contrary that she refuses to admit to her own vulnerability on the frontier. Furthermore, I want to be certain that you won’t break the law I’m sworn to uphold.”
Karissa scowled at him. “I’m finding that I like honorable men less than I like the dishonorable ones. It’s impossible to deal with men in general, General.”
“Stop calling me General and fasten your shirt,” he muttered at her. “Maybe when you start behaving like a lady I’ll reconsider.” He opened the door then shot her a stony stare. “If you’ll excuse me, I would like to treat the injuries you inflicted on me. Sleep well, spitfire.”
“Karissa. My name is Karissa,” she said, striking a proud, dignified pose—just to prove to him she could be dignified if she felt like it. “Karissa Baxter from Kansas.”
“I will see that you have a supper tray delivered, Karissa from Kansas,” he replied in that aloof, authoritative tone that made her grit her teeth in annoyance. “Good night.”
When the door shut behind him, Karissa pulled a face. She definitely did not like that man. Too much spit and polish. Too much blue blood spurting through his veins. He obviously stuck to rules and regulations like flies stuck in molasses. If he had flown through life by the seat of his breeches, as she had, he would be considerably more sympathetic and understanding of her plight. But there was no sense wasting her breath, explaining her situation. Commander Rafe Hunter wouldn’t think of breaking his precious rules, much less bending one because of her.
Karissa flounced on the foot of the bed. If she gave a damn what that handsome soldier thought of her she would be depressed right now. But she didn’t have the time or inclination to wallow in unproductive emotions. She was on a crusade to insure her brother’s future in this new territory and she was spinning her wheels in house arrest.
She glanced speculatively toward the window and decided to make her escape after her supper had been delivered. She couldn’t plan her next move while her empty stomach was growling so loudly that she couldn’t think.
When a quiet rap rattled the door, Karissa pivoted and braced herself for another encounter with the fort commander. To her relief, Micah Whitfield poked his dark head around the door and smiled in greeting. His stunning blue eyes glistened with amusement as he directed her attention to the tray of food he carried in one hand.
“According to Rafe, a man can get his hand bitten off when he wanders too close to you. I brought supper so you will have something to chew on besides me.”
Karissa chuckled as Micah made a big production of cautiously circling around her to set the tray on the table. This brawny soldier, who was obviously of mixed heritage, had a knack of putting her at ease, even when she was conditioned to keeping up her guard around all men.
“You can relax, Captain,” she assured him as she walked over to pick up the slice of buttered bread. “I only bite and claw when physically attacked. You seem reasonably harmless.”
Micah laughed. “I’m sure you meant that as a compliment, but I have the reputation of being a hard-bitten, relentless scout and soldier.” He grinned teasingly and said, “Of course, thanks to you, Rafe is the one who’s hard-bitten.”
“Well, he tackled me and knocked me in the mud,” Karissa defended between bites. “What was I supposed to do? Thank him kindly for nearly drowning me and squishing me down in the slime?”
Micah ambled over to sit down in the chair—backward. He draped his muscled arms on the back of the chair and regarded her with blatant admiration. “Rafe might find you a bit unconventional, but I like your style. I always did admire a woman with pluck and gumption.”
Karissa sank down at the table to devour her meal. “And I’m cautious of men who are quick with compliments.” She eyed him with amused curiosity. “What do you want from me, Micah?” she said informally. “And do keep in mind that you won’t get it.”
He threw back his head and laughed heartily. “No small talk for you, I see. Just cut to the chase.” He nodded approvingly. “No wonder Rafe is having a hard time dealing with you. You’re nothing like the women he’s accustomed to.”
“The dainty and dignified types who bat their lashes and compliment his striking good looks and intelligence?” She sniffed in disgust.
“My sentiments exactly,” Micah agreed. “I’ve never trusted a woman who fawns and flatters. It means she wants something and that makes me suspicious. But then, I was raised in an Indian camp, not in the posh drawing rooms of the highest military echelon on the East Coast.”
“Like Rafe Hunter,” she presumed. “So what’s a man like him doing on this outpost of civilization? I suspect that he has the necessary connections to land a plum commission in someplace that’s safe, civilized and dignified.”
Micah shrugged. “He does and he could. Rafe graduated with high marks and honors from West Point. But he isn’t the type who is satisfied with taking the easy way out. We’ve faced hostile Apaches and Comanches together and he’s guarded my back while I guarded his. He likes the rigorous challenges of defending the country and protecting its honest citizens.”
A dyed-in-the-wool career army officer, Karissa mused. It was just her luck to be arrested by the gung-ho major.
“He’s damn good at his job,” Micah added. “He’s earned the respect of most of the soldiers under his command. Except for the lazy few who expend more effort trying to avoid work than carrying their share of the load. Rafe has a low tolerance for that type,” he added. “He never asks one of his men to do something he isn’t prepared to do himself. Despite his privileged background he isn’t afraid of hard work and he doesn’t shy away from trouble or tough decisions.”
“Enough on that dull topic,” she said with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “How long am I to be detained? I’m certain my brother and his wife are concerned about me. I would like to get word to them. Even better if I could reassure them in person.” She tossed Micah a meaningful glance.
“Does this imaginary brother know you were trespassing on the unopened territory?” Micah asked.
Karissa set down her fork and stared the ruggedly handsome half-breed squarely in the eye. “My brother and sister-in-law are very real. They are camped along the river, about five miles from this fort. At the very least I would like to relay the message that I’m alive and well. Of course, I would prefer to omit the part about being under arrest. No need to upset them, after all.”
Micah inclined his head agreeably. “I’ll see what I can do to reassure them, but I’m afraid Rafe has his rules about immediately releasing squatters who jumped the gun before the Land Run. You, my dear lady, have to accept the fact that you will be detained until Rafe decides to release you.”
Karissa’s shoulders slumped in frustration. While she was stuck at the garrison, someone else might sneak into the territory and stake the property that she had fallen in love with the moment she walked over the rolling hill and saw the lush countryside spread out before her. That wild, untamed land had called out to her as nothing else ever had. She could have sworn she heard home whispering in the gentle breeze.
“If I’m to be detained then I need something to occupy my time,” she insisted. “I’ll be climbing these walls if I have nothing to do. Can you arrange for me to become a laundress? Surely with so many soldiers about, I can earn wages by washing and cleaning.”
“I don’t see a problem with that,” Micah replied. “Rafe might, however. He doesn’t trust you not to break and run the first chance you get.”
Karissa glanced up when she noticed a shadow hovering outside the window. Ten feet away, the fort commandant loomed over her, watching her like an eagle-eyed predator. The man obviously trusted her so little that he volunteered to stand watch so she didn’t make a break for it via the window.
Out of pure spite, Karissa emulated the mannerisms of a gushing female by batting her eyes and waving enthusiastically at Rafe. Sure enough, he frowned skeptically at the sudden contradiction of her feisty temperament.
When Rafe disappeared from sight, Micah snickered. “As much as you seem to delight in antagonizing Rafe, that’s no way to gain his favor and respect.”
“I couldn’t care less about gaining his respect. The less contact we have with each other the better.” She glared at the resolute presence beyond the window then turned away to polish off her meal.
When the door swung open a few minutes later, Karissa glanced up to see His Truly towering over her. Instant but unwanted awareness sizzled through her. The mere sight of Rafe Hunter in his dress uniform—which boasted decorative gold braid and dozens of medals—was enough to take a woman’s breath away. Even a hopeless cynic’s like herself.
His dark hair had been recently washed and combed. His eyes gleamed like silver in the flickering lamplight. Standing tall, masculine and distinguished in his polished black boots, he truly was a sight to behold.
It was easy to understand why gently bred ladies from his social circle would consider him a prize catch. Yet, there was something about him that testified to the fact that the army was his life and that he took his duties very seriously. A woman could never compete with that single-minded devotion, she predicted.
However, Karissa thought with wry amusement, this distinguished officer—who practically radiated authority—chose to approach her while Micah was present. Karissa found small consolation in the knowledge that Rafe Hunter wasn’t sure how to handle her and was leery of being alone with her again.
Why was that? she wondered. Didn’t he trust her? Or didn’t he trust himself? Whatever the reason, this man wasn’t going to take her for granted the way she suspected he took other women for granted.
“Miss Baxter,” Rafe said in an overly polite tone, “one of the officers’ wives offered you decent clothing.” Stiffly, he thrust the dresses at her then shifted awkwardly. “As for the…um…feminine paraphernalia that goes beneath it, I won’t be able to provide that until the post trader’s store opens in the morning. As for proper shoes, that might take some time in acquiring. You’ll have to wear your cloddish boots.”
Difficult as it was to be gracious, Karissa rose from her chair to accept the dresses. “Thank you,” she murmured, uncomfortable with accepting charity. “I was just telling Captain Whitfield that I would like to occupy my time and earn wages by becoming a fort laundress.”
Rafe’s thick brows flattened over his narrowed eyes. “I think not. You’ll have to find something to occupy yourself in my room. Perhaps you can sew buttons back on uniforms and darn socks. But you will not be permitted to have the run of this garrison.”
Karissa hitched her chin in the air and defiantly strode over to the cot. She proceeded to jerk off the blanket and sheets. Holding Rafe’s fuming gaze, she dumped the bedding on the floor then made short shrift of transferring his personal belongings from his trunk to the floor.
Beside her, she heard Micah camouflage a chuckle behind a cough. She glanced over her shoulder to see him battling to keep a straight face—and failing miserably.
Rafe glared sabers at her. “Are you finished making your point, Miss Baxter?” he growled.
“Not quite.” Karissa knew she was sliding on the thin edge of his temper, but it was her nature to spit in the face of defeat. She made a beeline for the bookshelf that was lined with military manuals and dumped them, one by one, atop the bedding. “Now I’m finished and I’m bored again.”
Micah bounded from his chair, his eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. “I think I had better leave before the next skirmish starts. Don’t wanna get caught in the crossfire.”
“No, you’ll stay,” Rafe demanded without taking his eyes off Karissa.
“You definitely have to stay, Captain,” Karissa chimed in then flashed Rafe an impudent grin. “The General is afraid to be alone with me. Terrified, in fact.”
She almost cackled when he puffed up with so much indignation he nearly popped the brass buttons off his uniform.
“Given my position of authority here, there are a lot of people who are afraid to cross me.” He stared at her through narrowed eyes. “You should be one of them.”
“Really? I didn’t know you were God’s brother,” she sassed him.
Micah snickered, but he schooled his amused expression when Rafe shot him an irritated glance.
“Might I remind you, Miss Baxter,” Rafe said through clenched teeth, “that your other option here is to be jailed with the male prisoners in the stockade.”
Karissa shrugged carelessly. “I can take care of myself, General. And believe me, I have found myself in more harrowing situations than being thrust into a stockade with male prisoners.” Her green eyes sparkled with challenge. “Of course, if you wish to contend with a full-scale riot that voices objections to being crowded into unsanitary conditions that, no doubt, plague your stockade, then lead me to it.”
“I don’t think she’s spouting an empty threat, Rafe. It wouldn’t take much to incite the imprisoned settlers. Joan of Arc here looks all too eager to champion a rebellion,” Micah interjected. “However, we are short on laundresses at the moment and we could use her offered services. You can always put a guard on her so you can keep track of her constantly.”
Karissa graced Micah with her best smile. “Ah, a man who shows reason and common sense.” She turned back to the stony-faced commander. “I can understand why Captain Whitfield has been chosen as second in command to serve as your advisor, consultant and mentor.”
She waited, wondering if Rafe would relent, especially after she had purposely goaded him. He stood there so stiffly for so long that she almost gave up and resorted to taking the rest of his room apart and leaving it in shambles. Finally he blew out his breath and nodded curtly.
“Very well, Miss Baxter, you can begin your duties as laundress and housekeeper in the officers’ quarters first thing in the morning.” He glared at her again. “And you can start by undoing the damage to my room. I want this place to look exactly the way it did before you performed your whirling dervish act.”
She flashed him a mocking smile and noticed his jaw clenched in determined restraint. She suspected he would enjoy strangling her for maneuvering him into agreeing to her request. Well, tough. She would like to choke him for detaining her at the post.
“You are too kind, General,” she cooed pretentiously.
“For the last time,” he gritted out, “stop calling me General!”
When the door swung shut behind Rafe and Micah, Karissa half collapsed on the bed. Squaring off against Rafe Hunter was exhausting. She decided to postpone her escape attempt for a day. Besides, she could use the extra money and she would have the opportunity to familiarize herself with the daily routine at the fort. With money jingling in her pocket she could plan the perfect time to make her escape without drawing too much attention to herself. Then she would return to the property she hoped to claim for her brother and sister-in-law.
But this time, she vowed, she was going to be more watchful and attentive when the army patrol came hunting for illegal squatters. She would dig a hole and pull it in after her, if need be, but she was going to stake a claim on the land she had selected to be the Baxter homestead.
“You were a lot of help,” Rafe muttered to Micah a few minutes later at headquarters as they prepared the duty roster for the following day.
Micah took a seat beside Rafe to peruse the schedule. “Oh, come on, Rafe, you really can’t expect a woman with that much restless energy to sit in a room night and day indefinitely. We lost three laundresses whose husbands intend to participate in the Land Run, and we’re shorthanded. Plus, if you put a guard on Karissa she can’t get far.”
Rafe snorted irritably. “You haven’t scuffled with her. I have. She could be gone before a negligent guard realized it. That woman is too crafty and clever for her own good.”
“She gets to you, doesn’t she?” Micah asked candidly.
Rafe scowled in frustration. Yes, that hellion was definitely getting under his skin—to the extreme. Never in his life had he been forced to match wits with such a quick-minded female. And to his baffled amazement, he found her extremely attractive, even when she looked like a scruffy ragamuffin in those dowdy men’s clothes. In all fairness, she shouldn’t ooze sex appeal with her tomboyish appearance and her fiery temperament and that sassy mouth.
It was those green eyes that sparked with so much inner spirit that really got to him, he decided. In addition, he had the outrageous urge to grab a handful of that wild mane of curly red hair, pull her to him and kiss the breath out of her when she challenged him. It was an inappropriate and insane reaction—like nothing he had previously experienced in his association with women.
Before Karissa blew into his life like a tornado, he had never had difficulty controlling his emotions. Ordinarily he reacted with logic and intellect. But he couldn’t respond normally when she purposely tormented him.
He told himself he was attracted to her because he had been a long time without a woman. That was what caused his volatile reaction to Karissa. Since his parents had formally announced his betrothal to Vanessa Payton, Rafe had denied himself sexual satisfaction. It had been the honorable thing to do.
When Karissa’s image flashed through his mind like a bomb bursting in air, Rafe gnashed his teeth. For God’s sake, he was engaged to a woman whose family name carried prestige in military circles. It didn’t matter that he didn’t love Vanessa. How could he? He barely knew her. But she would make an acceptable wife for a career army officer. Even if this fort on the frontier afforded very little in the way of luxuries Vanessa would honor her family obligations and remain by his side.
So why had Rafe spent most of this evening, harboring all these forbidden thoughts of that red-haired witch who prowled around his room? It was beyond ridiculous. In addition, she obviously was in the habit of using her body to gain favors from men.
Even knowing that, he had been tempted by that siren. The realization that he desired her offended his strong sense of personal pride and honor.
She was a woman he knew he shouldn’t—and couldn’t—have.
“Hello?” Micah prompted playfully. “Are we going to fill in the duty roster or do you plan to spend what’s left of the evening staring off into space?”
Rafe forced himself to focus on the business at hand and set to work assigning tasks for enlisted men. With practiced precision, he and Micah completed the task in a few minutes.
“I suggest we assign Harlan Billings to guard Karissa,” Micah commented. “After you put him on report for being drunk and disorderly, he’s been digging latrines for three days. Personally, I would rather not have him back on patrol with us. I’m tired of listening to him whine and complain about scouting the area, day after day, looking for squatters. If nothing else, it will keep Harlan out of our hair.”
Rafe was inclined to agree. Corporal Harlan Billings—who had been demoted from the rank of sergeant already—was a pain in the backside. Yet, Rafe wasn’t sure he wanted that particular soldier trailing after Karissa. Then again, he mused, she seemed to possess the ability to deal with men. If anyone could keep Harlan in line he would lay odds on the infuriating woman who had taken apart his room for pure spite.
With a nod, Rafe wrote Harlan’s name on the roster. “We’ll give him a trial run tomorrow,” he agreed. “If that doesn’t work out I think Harlan could best serve his country by mucking out the stables for a few days.”
Micah snickered. “Very appropriate. Why not send an ass to clean up after the mules and horses?” He shifted in his chair and sighed tiredly. “I for one will be glad when this Land Run is over and the territorial boundaries aren’t crawling with would-be settlers. The camps in this area are filling up steadily. I’ve counted nearly five hundred wagons circling the encampments. We also received a telegram that reported nearly ten thousand settlers have gathered on the Kansas border, preparing to move south within the next few days. Hopefully, our job will be easier when these settlers can focus their time on tilling the ground and constructing homes on their claims instead of crowding our space and picking fights with each other.”
“After the Run, I suspect we’ll be exchanging one set of headaches for another,” Rafe prophesied. “Free land brings out greed in people. Not to mention the money-hungry shysters who have been selling falsified maps to these hopeful settlers.”
“All the same, I think I prefer maintaining law and order to scouring the countryside for squatters and babysitting all these campsites that have sprung up around us.” Micah sighed wearily as he stood up. “I’m calling it a night. You can have my cot and I’ll make a pallet on the floor.”
“No,” Rafe insisted. “I’ll take the pallet. Just because a wildcat is tearing up my quarters doesn’t mean you should have to suffer for it. I’m the one who decided to stuff her in there for safekeeping.”
When Micah strode off, Rafe slouched in his chair and drummed his fingers on the desk. Even though he planned to post a guard to shadow Karissa every hour of the day he still didn’t trust her not to escape. When he returned from scouting the area for squatters he would keep an eye on her himself. He predicted she would try to make her escape at night.
And he would be there to pounce.
It was going to be a fair Run, for one and all, to claim free land, Rafe thought determinedly. Just because he was suffering feelings of partiality toward Karissa didn’t mean he was going to let it stand in the way of duty. He was not going to show her special treatment by letting her sneak back into the territory prematurely.
On that determined thought Rafe checked the door to see that Karissa was locked up tightly for the night, then he sprawled out on the floor of Micah’s quarters to grab a few hours of sleep.
Chapter Three
T he next morning Rafe dragged himself off the floor, worked the kinks from his back and heaved a tired sigh. He was definitely going to need more padding for his pallet, he decided.
Glancing sideways, he noticed Micah was up and gone. The sound of a trumpet splitting the still morning air prompted Rafe to grab his clothes and dress hurriedly. Never once had he been late for assembly, which commenced a little after five in the morning. He was always there to take roll call then lead the way to the stables to groom and care for the horses.
Lickety-split, Rafe burst out the door, fastening the buttons of his shirt as he went. He reached the parade grounds just as his men gathered in front of him.
She had done this to him, Rafe mused sourly. Thoughts of that spitfire had kept him tossing and turning instead of enjoying much-needed rest. He could only hope he didn’t look as frazzled as he felt.
Assuming his customary position beside Micah, Rafe drew himself up to dignified stature to begin roll call. A few minutes later he strode toward the stable, with Micah hot on his heels.
“You look like hell,” Micah murmured. “I doubt the rest of the men noticed since they’re still half-asleep. Bad dreams, my friend?”
“Worst nightmare,” Rafe grumbled.
And that’s exactly what Karissa Baxter was, Rafe mused as he tended then saddled Sergeant. She had tempted him, tormented him and deprived him of sleep. If he didn’t believe it was necessary to adhere to the rules of the Run, he’d set her free just to get her out from underfoot. But she had broken the rules and she would suffer the consequences.
At six o’clock, Rafe ambled into the mess hall and plunked down in his chair at the officers’ table. He nearly choked on his coffee when Micah escorted Karissa into the room. All conversation dried up when the men noticed the fetching new arrival.
As for Rafe, he wasn’t sure what he expected the first time he saw Karissa dressed as a respectable lady, but the sight of her would have knocked him off his feet if he hadn’t been sitting down.
All those shapely feminine curves that had been downplayed by her baggy men’s clothes were advantageously displayed in the pale green gown. He, like every other man in the mess hall, became distracted by the scooped-neck dress that showcased the full swells of her breasts.
She had twisted that thick mass of wild red hair atop her head, calling attention to the swanlike column of her neck. The trim-fitting gown accentuated her tiny waist and the seductive flare of her hips. In short, she was breathtakingly attractive, even with that smattering of freckles on her upturned nose.
To make matters worse, Karissa flashed a smile around the room and a collective sigh of masculine appreciation sent a draft of air rushing past Rafe.
Damn, beauty, brains and irrepressible spirit all rolled into one. Much too pretty a package to be such an aggravating misfit, he found himself thinking. He had never considered a woman dangerous before, but that was the first word that sprang to mind when he thought of Karissa. Men naturally assumed that such a dainty-looking, petite female who barely stood five feet two inches and couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds wouldn’t be a force to reckon with.
Rafe knew better.
“Good morning, General,” Karissa greeted him, all smiles and good humor.
While she gracefully seated herself between Micah and Rafe, he noticed that speculative glances were bouncing across the mess hall. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what his men were thinking, as it pertained to his connection to Karissa.
When Rafe flung Micah a why-in-the-hell-did-you-bring-her-to-breakfast glare, Micah shrugged. “She was getting bored again. I was concerned about your room. I don’t want to bunk together indefinitely.”
Karissa laid her hand on Rafe’s arm and turned such a sticky sweet smile on him that he nearly lost his appetite. “Micah is such a thoughtful and considerate gentleman,” she cooed pretentiously. “You should take your cue from him, General. His charm brings out the best in me.”
Knowing all eyes were on him, he flashed her a smile he didn’t feel. Rafe leaned sideways and whispered, “Do not cross me, woman. You will not win.”
She graced the mess hall full of men with another dazzling smile. “You don’t frighten me in the least,” she murmured confidentially. “Last night we discovered who was afraid of whom.”
His fists curled on his thighs, wishing he could strangle her. “I have the authority to see you deported. One word from me and you won’t be permitted to make the Run. You better remember that.”
When her smile faded and her lower lip trembled, as if she was about to burst into tears, Rafe silently scowled. His men stared at him as if he had committed the unpardonable sin of upsetting her. She was staging an act for their benefit and threatening his credibility with his men. Even Micah, and the officers’ wives gathered at the table, looked at him as if he had committed a breach of gentlemanly etiquette.
Hell and damnation! Was there no way to gain the upper hand with her? First off, she had cleverly countered his every threat. Secondly, she stuck in his mind like a flaming arrow, even after he had vowed not to give her another thought. Rafe decided, there and then, that as long as Karissa Baxter was running around the garrison, his routine would be turned upside down.
A wise commander knew when to charge and when to retreat. He had little choice but to take a company of his men and spend the day scouting for squatters. The less he saw of Karissa the better.
Bearing that in mind, Rafe wolfed down his meal then left Micah with the task of introducing Karissa to her posted guard.
Rafe swore he heard Karissa laughing triumphantly when he turned tail and all but ran from the mess hall.
Karissa’s first impression of Harlan Billings, the corporal who had been assigned to keep watch on her while she tended her laundress chores, was not good. After Micah had made the introductions then walked off to assume his duties, Harlan had leered at her. It annoyed her that he kept finding excuses to place his hand at the small of her back to guide her through doorways and to grasp her elbow as they ascended steps.
His beady black eyes, pointy nose and thin tuft of brown hair reminded her of a rat dressed in a uniform, and each fleeting touch of his hand made her wince. Having this man following like her shadow was quickly spoiling her mood.
While Harlan propped his thin-bladed shoulder against the wall in the washroom, Karissa set to work scrubbing clothes and tried to ignore his unwanted presence. By the time he escorted her to the mess hall for lunch she decided she preferred matching wits with Rafe rather than being subjected to Harlan’s lecherous stares and innuendos. It was obvious this skinny weasel of a man wanted something from her—the same thing that he presumed she had given to Rafe.
Judging from the snide comments Harlan made about Rafe, she surmised that her guard suffered from a severe case of professional jealousy. Obviously Harlan coveted Rafe’s position of authority and had convinced himself that the commander held a personal grudge against him.
When the two other laundresses carried off their baskets of clean clothes, leaving Karissa alone with Harlan, he stepped closer and devoured her with another of those insulting stares that visually undressed her.
“So, is the commander’s mistress also available to enlisted men or is he the only one allowed to sample your charms?” Harlan asked rudely.
Karissa tossed the underwear she was cleaning into the soap-filled tub then rounded on the smirking guard. “I am no man’s mistress,” she informed him sharply. “I am under house arrest, same as the men in the stockade.”
Harlan smiled sarcastically. “Of course, and that explains why you’re staying in Commander Hunter’s living quarters and dining beside him in the mess hall. Come now, sweetheart, everyone at this post knows that rank has privileges. But you should know that the commander is betrothed already. If you’re scheming to become more than his mistress I suggest you think again. The high-and-mighty commander is marrying into another well-known family of military echelon. You’ll never be more to him than the time he’s killing before the wedding.”
Karissa didn’t know why that information sent her stomach on a downward spiral. Rafe Hunter was betrothed to one of his own kind? She shouldn’t be the least bit surprised…or hurt by the news.
It wasn’t as if she wanted Rafe for herself, for she had vowed years earlier that she would never care so much for a man that he could wield the power to destroy her. She had watched her father reduce himself to gambling and drinking when her mother died unexpectedly. She would never let herself become that dependent on anyone.
Looking out for her younger brother fulfilled her need to be useful and needed, and she had no intention of finding herself at the mercy of any man. She had been independent and self-reliant too many years to sit still for that!
She knew Rafe Hunter was far above her station in life, that he was devoted to his military position, that he would—and should—marry someone of equal social prominence. Yet…
And yet nothing, Karissa scolded herself as she went back to work. Yes, Rafe Hunter was attractive and his dynamic presence demanded her attention. Yes, he was sharp minded and she enjoyed the challenge of matching wits with him. Yes, he appealed to her physically and he stirred something deep inside her the way no other man ever had.
But nothing would ever come of it, she reminded herself sensibly. She refused to let it. She enjoyed playing the role of his antagonist until he released her, because ruffling his military feathers provided mentally stimulating amusement.
Harlan nodded toward the soapy tub where Karissa vigorously scrubbed dirty clothes. “There’s an easier and more pleasurable way to earn extra money,” he insisted. “Although the soldiers don’t mind riding into the nearby community to take a tumble with the prostitutes, I’ve no doubt that I could make arrangements for you to visit the men in their barracks. For a cut of the profit, of course.”
Karissa glared at Harlan. It didn’t take long to realize that Harlan was an opportunist who constantly looked for ways to make quick and easy money to supplement his army salary.
“Do you also steal from the post’s commissary and turn the goods to would-be settlers for a profit, Harlan?” she asked perceptively.
She could tell by the look on his face that her presumption was right on the mark. He jerked upright and stared her down. “Just because you’re the commander’s whore doesn’t mean you can use the power of your new position to hurl false accusations to get me demoted or court-martialed.” He stalked over to wag a bony finger in her face and, when he sneered at her, his thin lips all but disappeared. “If you get me in trouble with Rafe Hunter I swear you will regret it.”
Karissa flung wet underwear at his chest before hurriedly brushing past him. “Excuse me, I need to see to my needs, Corporal Billings. No need to follow me to the latrine. I was told that you know exactly where it is since you’re the one who dug it.”
Leaving Harlan sputtering and swearing, Karissa strode across the compound. If nothing else, she needed a mental break from her annoying guard. She was sure she could have handled that weasel better if he hadn’t blindsided her with the announcement that Rafe was betrothed.
The news had caught her off balance, was all. It explained why Rafe was reluctant to come near her, why he had been taken aback by her request to exchange intimate favors for her freedom. He was obviously in love with his fiancée and intended to remain faithful to her.
Damn, she certainly had come off looking and sounding like a trollop, she mused, disgruntled. She had completely misunderstood Rafe’s intentions of putting her up in his room, and she had tried to turn the situation to her advantage. All she had accomplished was leaving him with the wrong impression of her.
Yes, she had stretched the limits of the law along the way—in the name of caring and providing for her younger brother. She had relied on her wits to obtain funds to support herself and Clint. Never once had she resorted to offering sexual favors for money. She was not about to start now. All she had was her pride. If she ever lost that then she would be poor and pathetic indeed.
Karissa took a deep, cathartic breath to regain her composure. For certain, she wasn’t going to let Harlan Billings rattle her. She was stuck with him—at least until Micah returned and she could request another guard who was less offensive.
When she walked across the parade grounds, she noticed Harlan leaning casually against the washroom wall, smiling that nasty little smile that made her want to double her fist and clobber him. The man was a menace to this army post. She could understand why he had been demoted, why Rafe and Micah chose to leave him behind while they scouted for squatters.
No doubt, Rafe had selected Harlan as her guard to punish her for antagonizing him. Well, it had worked. Karissa couldn’t wait to deliver the clothes she had washed and return to her room. Being alone was far better than spending time with the likes of Harlan Billings.
Micah frowned curiously when Rafe led the patrol in the same direction they had taken the previous evening. “We’re backtracking?”
Rafe nodded. Although the patrol had reconnoitered a different area during the day he wanted to check that no other squatters had pitched camp on the land that Karissa wanted for her own. For the life of him he didn’t know why he was granting her that favor. Nonetheless, he wanted to see to it that this plot of ground remained unclaimed until the day of the Run. She would have a fair chance to obtain the property without some Sooner staking it illegally.
A few moments later he heard Micah chuckling behind him. “Ah, now I understand. Very gallant of you, Rafe. You want the witch, as you refer to her, to have an opportunity to acquire a deed to the property she has her heart set on.”
“Clam up,” Rafe muttered when Micah snickered again.
His thoughts scattered when he noticed movement in the dense trees that shaded the creek where he had first spotted Karissa. He motioned for the patrol to encircle the area so they could swarm down from all directions at once.
Alarmed shouts followed the thundering hoofbeats as the mounted patrol converged. Rafe cursed sourly when three of the eight men bounded into their saddles and raced down the winding stream, eluding the patrol.
Well, no matter, he consoled himself. He would be back the next day, and the next. He wouldn’t allow illegal squatters to return and set up camp on this particular plot of land.
It was nearly dusk by the time the patrol, with ten male prisoners in custody, returned to the fort. As much as he hated to admit it, Rafe found himself looking forward to seeing how Karissa had fared during the day. If nothing else, he kept his wits sharpened by associating with her. Just so long as he didn’t get lost in the hypnotic depth of those mesmerizing green eyes and allowed his attention to drift to the lush curve of her lips.
Desire slammed into him and Rafe cursed his lack of self-control. Never had the mere thought of a woman left him aching and aroused. This had to stop! He would not fantasize about that intriguing misfit. He was engaged to a perfectly acceptable woman and he would carry through with the arrangements his parents had made.
Until now, the thought of marrying Vanessa hadn’t disturbed him in the least. He had planned to honor his family’s request and share his life with Vanessa. But he also planned to devote most of his time and energy to serving his command post to the best of his ability.
“You looked pained,” Micah observed as they approached the fort. “Something wrong?”
“I’m fine,” Rafe mumbled as he nudged his mount into a trot. “Nothing supper won’t cure.”
“The appetite is a very demanding thing,” Micah said wryly. “When a man starts craving something in particular it’s difficult to get past it.”
Rafe shot Micah a scathing glance. “I asked you to clam up. Now I’m making it an order.”
“Yes, sir,” Micah said with a snappy salute. “If I had known how easily you could be offended today I would have kept my observations to myself.”
“See that you do so in the future,” Rafe suggested.
Micah’s teasing taunts drifted away like a breeze when Rafe rode into the post and saw Karissa headed for the mess hall with Harlan on her heels. Like some foolish schoolboy, his pulse beat accelerated and he found himself overanxious to unsaddle Sergeant, wash up and race over to the mess hall.
Despite Micah’s amused glances, Rafe saw to his mount then scrubbed up without appearing to be in an all-fired rush. Although he hadn’t expected his men to avoid Karissa like the plague, he was surprised to see so many of them clustered around her in the mess hall.
Rafe felt left out and deprived when Karissa voiced some witty comment that caused an eruption of laugher among his men. He refused to approach Karissa, even if he felt drawn to the sight of that curly red head in the center of the circle.
When some of the men noticed his presence, they bowed politely to Karissa then went to take their places in the mess line. When Karissa pivoted toward him, awareness slammed into him. Rafe tried very hard not to stare in masculine appreciation as she sauntered toward him, smiling impishly.
“Did you catch a few dozen Sooners today?” she asked as she veered around the table to take her seat.
“Only a short dozen,” he reported. Reflexively, he pulled out the chair for her then sank down beside her. “Did you scrub your fingers to the bone while I was gone?”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “Considering the long days I was accustomed to working before venturing south from Kansas, this was a snap.” She grinned playfully at him. “I decided to add starch to the military drawers that I washed and dried. I think some of them were yours. At least I can only hope.”
Rafe tried not to return her smile, but it was contagious. “I wondered how you would retaliate. Leave it to you to be inventive.”
“I do what I can so that you know I’m not taking my captivity sitting down.” Her eyes sparkled with deviltry. “I wonder how easy it will be for you to sit down in those stiff drawers. But they should suit you perfectly.”
He presumed she was referring to his personality, but it wasn’t the only thing about him that was stiff at the moment. Rafe sighed. He really should release her, if only to avoid the frustrating attraction he didn’t want to deal with and could do nothing about.
“On a more serious note—” Karissa clamped her mouth shut when one of the soldiers reached around her shoulder to place a plate of food on the table.
“You were saying?” Rafe prompted Karissa after the private moved on to serve the officers.
“How was your day?” Micah interjected as he took the empty seat beside Karissa.
Disgusted, Rafe watched her turn a beaming smile on Micah. “I’m sure my day wasn’t as eventful as yours. I spent most of my time staring at the inside of a washtub and doing battle against dirty floors. The General tells me that you apprehended more squatters.”
Micah nodded his thanks when the private served his meal. “I swear they’re multiplying overnight.” When Karissa frowned glumly, he hastily added, “But not to fret, pretty lady. Rafe circled back to chase down the Sooners who infiltrated the property you picked out.”
Karissa turned her astonished gaze on Rafe, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “You did? And here I thought you didn’t have a single saving grace. My apologies, General. I’m grateful for that, at least. Of course, other squatters are probably making camp on my prospective homestead as we speak.”
“That’s why we patrol the area continuously,” Rafe replied between bites of his meal. “I want this Land Run to be fair for all.”
“Being a woman, I’ll start the race with a distinct disadvantage,” she grumbled.
“I doubt it,” Rafe said. “I have yet to see you at a disadvantage, distinct or otherwise.”
Karissa wasn’t allowed the opportunity to request another guard for the following day. She glanced up to see one of the soldiers, who had introduced himself earlier, standing directly in front of her. He, like many of the men she had met, had been exceptionally respectful and polite to her. It seemed to her that the soldiers were pleased to be in the presence of a single woman and she hadn’t felt threatened by any of them. Except, of course, for Corporal Billings.
“I was hoping you might find time to sew new buttons on my dress uniform.” The soldier offered her the neatly folded garment then placed a coin on the table. “I’ll be back to fetch them in a few days.”
The soldier stepped aside and Karissa was greeted by another one, and then another. The stack of coins on the table increased as the men pointed out torn shoulder seams, frayed hems on trousers and holes in their shirts.
Well, one good thing about this, she decided, was that she would earn more money and she’d have something to relieve the boredom of sitting alone in her room all evening.
Karissa excused herself from the table and scooped up the tall stack of garments. Rafe came to his feet beside her.
“I’ll walk you back to officers’ quarters,” he volunteered.
Karissa was so aware of his presence beside her that she forgot to ask for a change of guard. It was all she could do to concentrate on keeping the riot of butterflies in her stomach from bursting loose. Damnation, why she allowed this man to affect her was beyond comprehension. She had no trouble dealing with the other soldiers.
“I thought perhaps I could accompany you on a walk around the garrison after I file my daily reports,” Rafe said.
“I’m allowed another breath of fresh air before I bed down for the night?” she asked, striving for a flippant tone of voice that would disguise her nervous flutters.
Rafe halted in front of his private quarters and lifted a dark brow. “Is that a yes or a no?”
“A walk around the post will suit me fine,” she replied. What better way to acquaint herself with the layout of the fort after dark? When she made her getaway—and it was only a matter of time before she did—she needed to know the best place to go over the wall.
He bowed ever so slightly then opened the door. “I trust you will be anxiously awaiting my return then?”
“Oh, absolutely, General,” she said breezily. “I think I would even offer to polish your boots if it would get me out of solitary confinement.” She knelt down to brush her finger over the toe of his boot. “Good heavens! Is that a speck of dust? Isn’t that against regulations? You could go on report!”
“Very funny,” he muttered. “Try not to climb the walls before I get back. It would be a pity if you fell and broke your neck.”
Karissa arched a brow. “Do I detect a warped sense of humor? Send it over to the washroom and I’ll have it starched and pressed in no time at all.”
When she turned toward the room, his muscled arm shot out to block her path. “I’m not the stuffed shirt you think I am,” he murmured as he leaned toward her.
His face was so close to hers that breathing was next to impossible. Her traitorous gaze focused on the sensuous curve of his mouth and her heart commenced pounding so hard that she swore it was about to beat her to death. He was so large and powerful that she felt dwarfed by his massive presence.
Ordinarily, Karissa balked and rebelled when she felt intimidated by a man. Yet, the feelings Rafe aroused inside her went beyond the norm. This ill-fated and unprecedented attraction made her feel more vulnerable than she ever had before. This was worse than physical vulnerability; it was emotional suicide. A woman who lived by her wits couldn’t afford to permit emotions to influence her ability to reason.
Desperate to put some distance between them, she ducked under his arm and darted into the room. She stood there, clutching the garments to her chest, as if the uniforms could protect her from these sensations that rippled through her body.
He stared at her for a long moment and she stared back at him. Then, without another word, he closed and locked the door. Karissa half collapsed on the end of the bed and dragged in a shaky breath. The man had an incredibly potent effect on her. She’d tried to alienate him, to irritate him, but she could still feel sparks flying when they were alone.
Flustered and desperate, Karissa snatched up her clean breeches, jacket and shirt. It would be better if she was garbed in men’s clothes on her walk with Rafe. She didn’t want to risk looking like a woman—for fear she would start behaving like a woman and end up doing something totally inappropriate.
Like kiss him. No, better to behave like the tomboy that life had forced her to become, she decided.
Being detained by the army was trouble enough. Yielding to the temptation of kissing a betrothed man, just to see if he tasted as scrumptious as he looked, would be more than trouble. It would be a disaster.
Rafe completed his reports then raked his hand through his hair. Why had he offered to spring Karissa from confinement to take her for a walk? In the dark? Hell!
He dragged in a determined breath. He could do this. He could keep a respectful distance, chitchat for a quarter of an hour then return her to the room. Certainly he had encountered more difficult situations than accompanying a woman for a stroll around the post. And she was just a woman, after all.
Resolutely Rafe stood up and exited his office. He crossed the compound in brisk strides. When he reached his quarters he rapped on the door. It opened immediately. To his surprise, he encountered the scruffy urchin, not the curvaceous beauty he had dined with an hour earlier.
“Going somewhere?” he asked. “Like on a fast getaway?”
She sashayed past him to exit the building. “Nope, just slipped into more comfortable and familiar clothing. And by the way, I’d like to shoot the imbecile who decreed that women should wear hampering dresses. It was, no doubt, the inspiration of a man who wanted quick and easy access to a woman when he wanted to appease his lusty craving…what’s the purpose of that building?” she asked in the same breath.
Rafe glanced in the direction she indicated. “That’s the weapons and ammunition depot. Be careful about shooting off your mouth around it. I wouldn’t want you, or it, to blow sky-high.”
“Point noted, General,” she said. “And what’s the purpose of that building?”
“Temporary storage for the mess hall and infirmary. The stockade fence will be dismantled and the post will be expanded after the Run. We are cramped for space.”
Rafe answered all of her questions—until she asked how many guards were posted in the two guard towers on opposite corners of the enclosed garrison. “Why do you want to know that?” he asked suspiciously.
She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Simple curiosity.”
He smirked. “There’s nothing simple about you. Without a doubt, you’re the most complicated woman I have ever encountered.”
“Bothers you, doesn’t it?” She halted to stare impishly at him. “Well, if it makes you feel better, General, you’re the most frustrating man I have ever met.”
The angled light cast by a lantern beamed across her enchanting face, compelling Rafe closer. He couldn’t remember wanting to kiss a woman quite as much as he wanted to capture Karissa’s lush, sensuous lips. While it was true that her sassy mouth was twice as big as she was, he was still intrigued by it, compelled to taste her thoroughly.
Karissa forgot to breathe when she noticed the flicker of awareness in his pewter-colored eyes. When he leaned toward her, suffocating her with his nearness—without actually touching her—unfamiliar sensations coiled in the pit of her stomach. He looked as if he was contemplating kissing her, and conflicting emotions roiled inside her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know how it felt to be wrapped in his sinewy arms and feel his full lips moving upon hers.
She was afraid she might like it too much. Yet, that didn’t stop her traitorous body from gravitating ever closer to him, leaving the narrow space between them to crackle with sensual speculation.
“Rafe—?” Her voice faltered. She wasn’t sure if she was asking him to move closer or back away.
“Karissa—?” Rafe stood there, savoring her unique scent, lost in the fathomless depths of her shimmering green eyes. He was torn between reckless desire and ruthless self-denial, unwillingly drawn to her and helpless in his inability to control the aching need that prowled through him.
Just when he felt himself give in to the overwhelming need to draw her into his arms and taste her, a voice called out, “Ah, there you are, Major.”
Rafe shook himself from the bedeviling trance and stepped back. He would gladly have promoted Lieutenant Johnson on the spot, for his timely interruption. A few more moments and Rafe would have pulled Karissa into his arms, sampled the sweet nectar of those full lips and abandoned the good sense he’d spent years accumulating.
“What’s the problem, Lieutenant?” Rafe asked. His voice sounded as if it had rusted.
“One of our men was suddenly taken ill. The post surgeon wants to speak to you about relieving him of his duties until he’s back on his feet,” Lieutenant Johnson reported.
“Tell Doc Winston I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Rafe took Karissa’s arm and steered her back to officers’ quarters. “I’m sorry to cut your walk short,” he said very formally.
“Just as well. I have a stack of mending to tend. But thank you for the grand tour.”
She didn’t protest when he practically shoveled her into the room then secured the door for the night. Rafe leaned against the wall and inhaled a steadying breath. Willfully he forced all thoughts of Karissa from his mind. It wasn’t easy, but he was the commandant of this post and his duties always came first.
He wondered why he’d had so much trouble remembering that the past two days.
Chapter Four
R afe spent the following day doing exactly the same thing he had done the day before—and the day before that. Tracking down illegal squatters. He and his patrol had been led on a hair-raising chase over hill and dale before capturing four men who resisted arrest and had to be forcefully subdued.
Tired, irritable and hungry, Rafe rode into the fort. The place looked normal, with off-duty soldiers strolling about. But something didn’t feel quite right. Rafe glanced suspiciously toward the officers’ quarters. Karissa damn well better be where she was supposed to be.
He suspected that she had used their tour the previous night to case the area, looking for a niche in the shadows to hide out before making her getaway.
He had anticipated that she would wait until she thought she’d lulled him into a false sense of control and had him thinking she had accepted captivity before she made her escape. But knowing Karissa, his attempt to second-guess her strategy would work against him, not for him. Much as he hated to admit it, she was a mental step ahead of him.
The woman was too smart by half.
Rafe shifted uneasily in the saddle as he passed by the officers’ quarters. The sixth sense that he’d learned to rely on warned him that something was wrong. It left him with an uneasy tension that prompted him to make fast work of tending his horse. In record time he shut Sergeant in his stall and headed straight for his quarters. He needed to see for himself that Karissa was still in custody.
A growl exploded from his lips when he opened the door to find his room in shambles. The sheets and blankets were in a tangled heap. The table had been up-ended; the bookshelf had toppled over, leaving his military manuals strewn about like casualties of war. The glass globe of the lantern lay in shattered pieces on the floor and oil stained the floorboards.
“Damn her!” Rafe said furiously as he stormed outside.
“She’s gone?” Micah hooted. “I presumed—”
Rafe wheeled on his longtime friend. “You never presume when it comes to that woman!” he fumed. “The moment I think we have reached a workable truce she rips my quarters to shreds and escapes.” He swung his arms in agitated gestures. “This is the thanks I get for guarding the land she wants to claim and keeping it free of other squatters.”
“I’ll go after her,” Micah volunteered hurriedly. “I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to track her down.”
“Oh, no, you won’t,” Rafe countered as he stalked off. “She is my responsibility and this is another act of rebellion against my position of authority.”
Rafe didn’t add that, although Micah was probably better suited for pursuing Karissa, he was suffering from an absurd feeling of possessiveness and protectiveness. He wanted to be the one to track her down. He wanted to be the one to discover she hadn’t put herself in harm’s way. He wanted to be the one to rake her over live coals for destroying his quarters and thumbing her nose at his orders. And, by damned, he was going to drag her back to the post to serve her time for breaking the laws governing the upcoming Land Run.
“Um…Rafe?” Micah murmured as he followed his friend.
“What?” he growled as he headed back to the stables.
“I know you’re furious,” Micah called after him, “but outright murder doesn’t become you. You are first and always an officer and a gentleman.”
“Maybe so, but right now I would gladly resign my command for five minutes of justified fury! When I get that woman back in custody she is not going to see the light of day for a week!” He broke into a run and sprinted into the stables. “Assume command of this post while I’m gone, Micah!”
Karissa brushed her fingertips over the bruise on her cheek that still throbbed hours after her harrowing encounter with Harlan Billings. He had tried to force himself on her after he had escorted her back to Rafe’s quarters for the evening. Karissa shook off the repulsive thought of how close she had come to being violated. She had made the mistake of dismissively turning her back on Harlan—a mistake she would never make with any man again.
Considering the fact that she had left Rafe’s room in shambles—as a show of defiance that first night—she really didn’t expect him to believe that lecherous toad had assaulted her. She, after all, was an escaped prisoner and Harlan was a soldier under Rafe’s command.
She clutched the torn neckline of her borrowed dress and waited until the wagon in which she’d hidden had reached a thicket of trees. The driver, who was oblivious to the fact that a stowaway was tucked beneath the tarp in the wagon bed, went merrily on his way. Karissa wormed from concealment and hopped off the wagon. Casting a quick glance to make sure the driver hadn’t noticed her, she dashed into the underbrush.
She knew she didn’t have much time before Rafe discovered she was missing. She had heard the driver of the supply wagon call out a greeting when he encountered the returning army patrol. By now, Rafe would have seen the destruction in his room and assumed she had spitefully laid the place to ruin and made her escape.
Karissa predicted that Rafe would tear off to the site where he had originally apprehended her. Therefore, she would be asking for more trouble than she had already encountered if she made a beeline for her property.
“Well, what have we here?” came a voice from the shadows of the trees.
Karissa refused to let herself freeze up in fear. She had endured one near brush with disaster today and that was more than enough. She had to lose herself in the underbrush and wait until she could use the gathering darkness to her advantage. She didn’t have time to retrieve the bag of men’s clothing and supplies she had buried on her claim site. But she felt exposed and vulnerable while wearing a dress, and whoever had sneaked up on her had realized she was a woman.
When she heard two more male voices behind her, panicked desperation spurted through her veins. Karissa grabbed the front of her skirt to keep from tripping and dashed southeast, veering away from the cover of the trees toward more familiar territory. She knew the property she wanted to claim like the back of her hand. If she could elude the men until darkness became her protector she was sure she could find a place to hide for the night.
Terror and outrage threatened to overwhelm her when she heard one of the men breathing down her neck. She let out a bloodcurdling shriek when he clamped hold of her shoulder and jerked her backward. As she stumbled off balance she raised an elbow to bash in her attacker’s nose. He yelped in pain and covered his face, giving Karissa time to wrest free. Unfortunately, the other two men overtook her and she found herself shoved facedown in the grass.
She screeched, she kicked and she clawed, but three to one odds overpowered her. Karissa screamed bloody murder when two of the men rolled her onto her back and pinned her shoulders to the ground.
A bearded face loomed above her. “You nearly broke my nose, bitch,” the man growled as he yanked up her skirts. “And now you’re going to pay for it, thrice over.”
When the man dropped to his knees, Karissa thrust out her leg and caught him squarely in the groin. He howled like a coyote then lambasted her with curses. But Karissa kept kicking at him and straining against the two men who held her shoulders to the ground. She felt her strength waning and knew it was only a matter of time before these lusty scoundrels did their worst. But Karissa refused to surrender, refused to make it easy on her assailants. She had fought her way through life and it was second nature to battle even the most difficult odds.
“Let her go!” Rafe’s booming voice rumbled in the distance and Karissa slumped in relief.
The men sprang away from her and wheeled toward the mounted soldier, who loomed in the twilight like an avenging angel. When one of the men made a grab for his pistol Rafe’s rifle barked viciously. Karissa glanced sideways to see one of her assailants wilt to the ground, clutching his arm.
“I said back off!” Rafe thundered as he took the second man’s measure on the sight of his rifle.
While dismounting, Rafe kept his weapon trained on the two men left standing. He had ridden hell-for-leather, itching to strangle Karissa for spitefully destroying his quarters and escaping from the fort. But his anger was nothing compared to the outrage that overwhelmed him when he’d heard Karissa’s shriek in the distance and had ridden over the hill to see these three men trying to rape her. He considered himself a fair and just man, but committing cold-blooded murder was starting to appeal to him greatly.
“Sit down in the grass, back to back,” he ordered gruffly. Reaching into his saddlebag, he retrieved three lengths of rope. “Karissa, bind them together.”
She rolled unsteadily to all fours then staggered to her feet. When she swayed slightly, he realized she was suffering from the aftereffects of the attack. Nevertheless, she gathered her composure and tied the two uninjured men together while Rafe inspected the third ruffian’s bullet wound.
When he heard the rending of cloth, he glanced up to see that Karissa had torn the hem off her tattered gown to provide a bandage. “I should let him bleed to death after what he tried to do to me,” she said bitterly, “but I’m not quite as heartless as he is.”
Rafe noticed her hand was still shaking as she offered the improvised bandage. He knew how it felt to ride an adrenaline high, knew she was barely holding herself together. Sooner or later traumatic shock from the unnerving incident was going to catch up with her. Aggravated though he was with her, he was still going to be there to catch her when she fell apart.
“I’m bleeding to death!” the injured man railed as he stared at his bloodstained jacket.
“You’ll live,” Rafe diagnosed as he hurriedly bandaged his captive’s wound. “Considering what you tried to do, you’re lucky I didn’t aim for your heart.”
Swiftly he bound the man’s hands then hoisted him to his feet. With Karissa’s assistance, he marched the men toward the nearest tree and tethered them. “I’ll send a patrol out to retrieve you,” he told the men. “Until then, you can sit here and rot.”
To his surprise, Karissa sidled up beside him, clutched his hand and murmured, “Thank you.”
“This wouldn’t have happened if you had stayed put,” he said, and scowled.
She jerked up her head so quickly that the last of her disheveled coiffure came tumbling down her shoulders, catching in the last rays of sunset like dancing flames. When Rafe noticed the discoloration on her cheek and the gaping neckline of her dress, his fist clenched around his rifle. Vicious fury took a bite out of him as he glared at the three men.
“They didn’t leave the marks,” she told him shakily.
His narrowed gaze swung back to her. “Then who did?”
“You don’t want to know and probably couldn’t care less,” she muttered.
Rafe clutched her arm to shepherd her toward his horse. “When someone assaults a woman who is under my protection, I care,” he assured her gruffly. “Even if said woman probably deserved what she got for her reckless daring.”
To Rafe’s disbelief she didn’t snap back at him. She just sort of crumpled beside him and he reflexively reached out to steady her on her feet. He heard her muffled sob and felt her trembling hands clutch at his arm. In the blink of an eye his frustration evaporated and he gathered her compassionately to him.
“Damn it,” she mumbled against his chest. “The very last thing I meant to do was let you see me cry.”
“It’s all right,” he whispered as he impulsively brushed his lips over her bruised cheek. “You’re going to be fine now. After a warm meal and hot bath you’ll be your sassy self again.”
Well, so much for reading her every paragraph of the riot act—forward and backward, twice. When she broke down and soaked the jacket of his uniform with tears, he couldn’t work up the anger to chastise her.
Yes, she had it coming for putting herself in harm’s way. And yes, he had wanted to be the one to deliver a scathing lecture. But when a woman as strong as Karissa buckled to her emotions Rafe couldn’t bring himself to do anything except offer comfort.
And he was not even going to think about how good she felt in his arms or how much satisfaction he derived from being the one who had rescued her from disaster. As hard as he tried, it was impossible not to become emotionally involved with this woman, even if she was all wrong for him. Even if he was betrothed…
The thought prompted Rafe to release her and step back into his own space. He scooped Karissa off the ground, gently settled her on Sergeant’s back and then swung up behind her.
When he reined toward the fort, she clutched his hand. “I need to fetch my belongings,” she said brokenly. “I buried them near the spring…please?”
Rafe relented and allowed her to take the reins to ride toward her abandoned campsite. He listened to her muffled sobs for as long as he could stand and then said, “I’m truly sorry you met with trouble, Karissa. No woman deserves to be treated so disrespectfully. Rest assured that those three men will be punished severely.”
Ten minutes later Karissa halted beside the rock-covered hillside where a spring trickled into a shimmering pool. Rafe dismounted and then set her to her feet. Swaying slightly, Karissa approached the site of her buried cache and used a nearby rock to unearth her carpetbag. And then to Rafe’s tormented dismay, she burst into tears all over again. He tried to tell himself that it was a manipulative ruse, aimed at drawing his sympathy, but he doubted that even Karissa was that good an actress.
“Can’t you bend your damnable rules and just let me stay here?” she said on a sob and hiccup. “Every soldier at the fort thinks I’m your live-in mistress, even if most of them have been polite and respectful in my presence. I don’t want to go back there. I would rather take my chances out here.” She clung desperately to the carpetbag in her quaking hands. “At least out here I have a disguise for protection. If I had been dressed like a boy, those men wouldn’t have accosted me and your—”
Karissa bit down on her tongue before she blurted out that Harlan Billings had tried to do the very same thing to her. She knew Rafe was loyal to the army and to the men in his command. She had no doubt whatsoever that he would take Harlan’s word over hers.
“My what?” Rafe grilled her as he strode forward to tower over her. “What were you going to say?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s not important. What is important is that I need to stay here so I can claim this property. It’s all I want in life. Is that asking so much?”
Rafe squatted down on his haunches and curled his index finger beneath her quivering chin. Steel-gray eyes bored into her and, even in the darkness, she could feel their intensity on her. “Tell me why it’s so important that you have this property?” he demanded. “Why should I grant you special privileges when this Run for free land is supposed to be a fair race for all other settlers?”
Karissa didn’t know why she wanted to take Rafe into her confidence when she had kept her own counsel for years. She supposed the unnerving experiences of the day had simply broken her spirit and left her with the need to lean on someone until she could gather her composure. She had never begged for anything in her life, but suddenly she found herself blurting out her thoughts like a witless ninny.
“As much as I love this property that calls out to me, I want to claim it for my brother and his new wife,” she gushed as she clutched her dirty carpetbag to her chest. “On the way down from Kansas, Clint was thrown from his horse. He suffered a broken leg and concussion. He barely gets around on the crutch I…found…for him and it will be impossible for him to make the Run. His wife is seven months’ pregnant and she is in no condition to take Clint’s place in the race for land. I’ve looked after my younger brother since we were kids. Now I want him to have a fresh start, the chance to make a new life.”
To her dismay, she realized tears were dribbling down her cheeks. She managed to reroute them, but she couldn’t seem to clamp down on her tongue as she should have. Rafe didn’t care what a difficult life she’d had. She wasn’t his responsibility. He had a blue-blooded fiancée waiting for him back East. He didn’t care that she had somehow gotten attached to him the past few days.
It was ridiculous, but it didn’t stop her from pouring out her heart to him. She felt the insane need to make him understand there was good reason she had turned out the way she had. She didn’t expect him to like her, but she wanted him to understand what motivated her.
“I doubt that you can begin to imagine what it’s like to be uprooted and moved from one lawless cow town to the next while your father drowns his woes in whiskey and gambles away every cent he’s accumulated. I doubt you know what it’s like to be a woman who has to dress as a boy and sweep up in smoke-filled saloons, while calico queens and drunkards paw each other and fling lewd remarks, just so you can acquire enough money to feed yourself and your little brother.”
“Where is your father now?” he asked gently.
“He got caught cheating at poker and the dispute ended badly for him. I couldn’t afford to give him a proper burial.”
“I’m sorry, Rissa.” Rafe tried to pat her consolingly, but she shrugged him off and rambled on before the tears washed away her voice.
“I never had the chance to make friends, only passing acquaintances. Never had a home to call my own or enough money to buy a gown as fine as this one that you borrowed for me. And now look at it!” To her horror, Karissa wailed like an abandoned baby when she realized the gown had suffered irreparable damage. “And how am I going to earn the money to replace this gown? What little money I made from washing, scrubbing and mending will barely cover food and supplies for my brother and his wife!”
Shamelessly Karissa fell into Rafe’s arms, knowing perfectly well she didn’t belong there, that she wasn’t particularly wanted there, but needing to be held and comforted.
Of course, she would never be able to look this man in the eye after she had reduced herself to blubbering tears, but she had to get through the night—somehow—if she was going to marshal her spirits to face another trying day.
“I—I’m s-sorry,” she whimpered, humiliated. “I— I—”
To her further mortification she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him squarely on the mouth. It was a reckless mistake, a complete lapse of good judgment. She had no idea why she thought she needed to kiss Rafe Hunter so desperately. He didn’t belong to her, would never belong to her and she was only reaffirming his belief that she was nothing more than a trollop.
But suddenly Karissa forgot all the reasons she shouldn’t be kissing him, because he was kissing her back and the world tilted on its axis and time ceased to exist.
It didn’t take long to realize that Rafe Hunter kissed as well as he handled a rifle and sat on a horse. He stole the breath right out of her lungs and ignited a fire in her blood that all the water in the creek couldn’t extinguish. Karissa had never felt so wild, reckless and needy, never knew desire could leave a woman’s head spinning so furiously that she couldn’t tell which way was up—and couldn’t care less.
Brawny arms crushed her to him and held her fast. His mouth was like liquid fire on hers and she could feel his heart hammering in frantic rhythm with hers. Every unruly emotion that had hounded her throughout the evening fueled this newly discovered sensation of desire and compelled her to kiss him as if there was no tomorrow.
Karissa lost herself in the unprecedented pleasure, lost herself in this man who stood squarely between her and her dream of a home that could support her family and grant them a new start in life. Yet, at the moment, Rafe Hunter’s incredible kisses seemed to be the only thing she needed to survive from one instant to the next.
While Karissa’s thoughts spun out of control, Rafe kissed Karissa the way he had never kissed a woman—without the slightest restraint. As fragile as her emotions were at the moment he shouldn’t have kissed her at all. But not kissing her was like telling himself not to breathe.
She tasted spicy—so like her temperament. She felt like every man’s forbidden dream in his arms. She held him as tightly to her as he held her to him—like two drowning castaways floundering on a storm-tossed sea. And even knowing he was breaking his impeccable code of honor he still couldn’t stop himself from caressing the shapely curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts.
Rafe had never felt so reckless, and he was a man who prided himself on logic and self-restraint. More than anything he wanted to peel off that tattered dress and press his lips and fingertips to every luscious inch of Karissa’s body. He ached to let this obsessive desire run its fiery course and finally allow him to reclaim his sanity.
Yet, a quiet voice whispered they were alone in the middle of nowhere and no one would know if he took his pleasure in Karissa while she overcame her tormenting experiences by losing herself in his eager arms.
No one would know. But Rafe would know and Karissa would most likely expect him to grant her request to remain on her claim if he took what she had offered to him that first night at the fort.
Just a few more heart-stopping kisses and tantalizing caresses, he bargained with himself. Then he would step back into his role of responsibility and respectability and clear his befuddled head.
“My God,” she wheezed when she came up for a breath of air. “I never knew passion could feel like this.”
Those enormous green eyes, so full of hungry wonder, dropped to his lips, and Rafe realized he hadn’t had enough of her yet. She was the worst kind of temptress a man could encounter. She was complex and complicated. She was spirit, strength, temptation and vulnerability rolled into one enticing package.
There was an innocence about her, even when she’d confided that life had dealt her a difficult hand. But she had defied her fate and fought back with every ounce of energy she could muster, just as she had battled the three men who’d tried to reduce her to an object of sexual gratification.
Rafe knew he’d never held more woman in his arms. That knowledge was an aphrodisiac that left him plundering her mouth and filling his hands with her shapely body. He simply could not get enough of her fast enough to satisfy himself.
He was sorry to say that it wasn’t his own good sense that finally prompted him to remove his wandering hands from her generous curves; it was the sudden hoot of an owl. Guilt and frustration hit him like a fist to the jaw. Damnation, for a man who prided himself on honor, duty and commitment, he was no better than the three men who had pounced on Karissa.
He opened his mouth to apologize, wondering if the astounded look on Karissa’s face mirrored his expression. Probably. It seemed neither of them wanted to acknowledge the powerful attraction that exploded between them like blasting powder.
In the aftermath of their reckless surrender to desire, her gaze dropped like a rock and she clutched her discarded carpetbag to her chest as if it were her only salvation.
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