Rescued By A Desperado: Prequel Novella (Emerald Falls Book 0) Page 5

  “Outnumbered? Who’s out here?”

  “Mason, please. I have to go before he comes looking for me.”

  The fingers on her arms tightened. “Don’t go. Come with me.”

  Her throat closed up, and the tears fell faster as a sob choked her. “Oh, Mason. You don’t know how much I want to.”

  The crease in his brow deepened. “Then let’s go. Right now. Run. Be with me.”

  He pulled on her, but she dug in her feet.

  “I can’t. Not right now. He knows where I am, and he’ll follow me.”

  Mason’s grip on her didn’t falter, but he stared at her in a hovering silence.

  She trailed her fingers down his cheek. “Come back for me,” she whispered. “Tonight. After the moon is high in the sky.”

  He let out a shuddering breath, and she could see in his eyes that he wasn’t keen on the plan.

  “Please, Mason.” She pushed on his chest lightly, and he took a step back. “Come back for me.”

  She moved backward as well, letting her fingertips slide off his chest.

  The mix of turmoil and confusion in his eyes was nearly too much for her. Her heart ached to run back into his arms. But she wouldn’t see him die like the others. Especially not him.

  She swallowed a knot so sharp she felt as if it would split her throat apart, then she turned and walked away.

  Chapter 8

  Oscar had been waiting for her at the edge of the campsite, rifle in hand, when Bridget returned. She'd marched right past him and thrown herself into her tent and cried. He either had better things to do than to mess with her or her blubbering had chased him off because he never came in after her.

  She’d heard him and Jonas speaking in hushed tones at one point, but when she’d finally emerged after a good cry and a nap, she’d found the men gone again. Only Linda sat next to the fire, twisting a group of twine into a rope. She glanced up at Bridget for only a moment before getting back to work.

  “I heard you made quite a scene this morning,” the woman said.

  Bridget rubbed her arm, squinting in the sunlight. It had to be close to evening already. “I suppose I did,” she said without meeting the other woman’s eyes.

  Linda had strips of meat laying on the rocks next to the fire, drying into their next batch of traveling jerky.

  “I think you shocked the hell out of him.” Linda’s lip twitched.

  The sight of it made Bridget feel a little better. A chuckle tickled up her throat, but she held most of it back. “About time someone did.”

  “Yes, well. Be careful. Just because you’re the first we’ve known to do that, doesn’t mean there haven’t been others that, you know, aren’t around anymore.”

  Bridget gnawed the edge of her lip with a nod. It was true. Oscar was a dirty predator.

  The women sat in silence for a moment. Linda twisted the remaining strands of her rope and worked the ends into a tight knot.

  “So who was that guy really?” she asked without looking up.

  Bridget’s mouth went dry. “A stranger that happened upon me at the stream. I’d never laid eyes on him before.”

  Linda nodded silently, eyes only for her task at hand.

  After another silent spell, she asked, “He live around here?”

  Bridget frowned, feeling as if she were slipping down a tricky slope. “He said he did.”

  “It’s nice around here. He got a house out in the woods?”

  Bridget licked her lips, hands clenched behind her back. “He didn’t mention a house.”

  Linda tied her final knot and examined her work. “I bet he does. One of those fellas living off in the woods by himself. They always got good stocks of cans and guns. Not to mention he’s probably got money hidden under his bed or something.”

  An uneasy feeling weighed in Bridget’s belly. She didn’t like where the conversation was going.

  “Those are always the best houses to dig through,” Linda said. “It’d be a good stop on the way out of here tomorrow.”

  The hairs on the back of Bridget’s neck tingled. “I, uh, don’t believe he has much of anything left. Nothing of value anyway. A lot of thieves come through here, you know.”

  “Sounds like he’s lucky he hasn’t been shot yet.”

  Linda was oblivious to the anxiety coursing through Bridget like river rapids.

  “That’s true,” Bridget said with a nervous chuckle.

  “Long as he stays out of our way, we won’t have to shoot ‘em either.” Linda cackled, and it was all Bridget could do to keep from gagging.

  Her cheeks were tense, teeth clamped together. She gave her best forced smile as she eased away from the fire. As she got to her feet, Linda pointed at a basket near their supplies.

  “Throw me a piece of bread, would you? Get yourself one too. Dinner won’t be for a bit.”

  The thought of eating did not settle Bridget’s stomach, but she grabbed a second piece from the hard loaf just the same. She tossed a chunk to Linda and walked back to her tent.

  “The boys are off gathering some food now,” Linda said. “They’ll be back before nightfall, and gone again in the morning for their last run before we go home, so we’ll pack early.”

  Bridget’s breath fluttered in her throat.

  She was down to her last night. If she didn't leave with Mason, she'd never have the chance. Any doubt she might have still been worrying over had been erased, however, at Linda's idea. If the boys were going to go scouting for Mason's house in the morning, she needed to warn him so they could be far away when it happened.

  She might be dangerous for him to be around, but she was also the only warning he had.

  * * *

  Bridget stayed inside her tent even after the men arrived. As usual, they sounded boisterous and like a gang of young boys. They’d brought in a pair of rabbits for dinner, but she didn’t come out to help. Food didn’t interest her. She didn’t want to cook for Oscar or be near him while they ate. Her stomach rolled as she tried to prepare herself for that night.

  She was going to run.

  No matter what snags might be waiting for her, she was going to at least try to set her future straight.

  Once their meal was over and the sun had disappeared, the men sat around the fire and confirmed plans on their final mission. As with all the others, she tried to block out the details. Someone would die and the men would take things that didn’t belong to them.

  That’s what outlaws did.

  The crickets were chirping and the moonlight beaming against the side of the tent when the voices all began to disappear. Bridget braced herself, muscles tense and teeth clenched.

  But Oscar never came inside.

  She waited, breath shallow as she listened.

  It was quiet outside.

  As the moon inched higher up the fabric of the tent, Bridget crept to the flap to peer out.

  Camp was empty. Only the crackling fire made a sound.

  Her heart pounded in her chest. It was time, but where was Oscar?

  The horses stood under a nearby tree dozing, including Oscar’s spotted one. The men hadn’t left.

  Not knowing where Oscar had gotten off to was terrifying, but it was also a window of opportunity. She’d been trying to determine how to sneak past him for the last hour.

  Bridget slipped out of the tent and stood up, peering around as far as she could see in the darkness. No one was around. She was alone.

  It was time to go.

  Without allowing her brain to fly through too many frightening possibilities that might happen if she ran into Oscar, she simply ran. Soft shoes through the grass, across the knoll, over the edge of the embankment, and down to the water.

  A figure stood there, and for a breath, she wanted to scream. Her hands flew to her mouth. But when he moved, the moonlight caught his white hat, and she nearly fell into a fit of tears.

  “Bridget,” Mason said. Even in the darkness, he looked surprised. “I was beginning to think
you’d changed your mind.”

  “Shh,” she hissed, stepping close to him and pressing her fingers to his lips. Only the sound of the moving water and crickets reached her ears. “We have to keep quiet.”

  He fell silent, arms winding their way around her. He didn’t retort, just stood with her, eyes gazing into hers in the moonlight. Her heart ached for him. For the unquestioning loyalty he’d already shown her.

  If only it’d been Mason she’d met upon getting off the train. Her life on the frontier would have been the dream she’d wanted.

  But she’d take tonight.

  Her hand slipped into his and held it tight. “I’ve far from changed my mind. But if we want to get out of here in one piece, we have to go.”

  Mason’s brow furrowed. “Are they chasing you?”

  She tugged on him. “Not yet, but he’s out here somewhere.”

  Mason drew a revolver from his hip with his free hand, eyes moving up and down the stream. Bridget drew in an unsteady breath, eyeing the gun with an uncertainty that made her stomach turn.

  She didn’t want there to be any shooting. Though it wasn’t the last thing she wanted. There was no way she was going to let Oscar take her back, however that needed to be accomplished.

  “Let’s get on the way then,” Mason whispered, eyes still scanning.

  He’d only taken a few steps when his body froze. She slid to a stop behind him. His head was cocked, and she did the same, straining to catch what he was listening for. But she could only hear her heartbeat in the silence.

  Then his hand tightened on hers.

  “We have to move.”

  Her pulse leapt, speeding through her like a bullet. What had happened?

  He pulled her across the stream and up the further bank into the trees.

  “Did you hear something?” she whispered as they hurried through the forest.

  “Not something. Someone.”

  Bridget’s chest constricted. Oscar was nearby. Probably hot on their tails. Her feet moved faster.

  They scurried through the thick brush and trees.

  She didn’t know where they were going, just that they needed to pick up the pace.

  Then there were footsteps in the gravel behind them. A grunt, some words muttered under the breath of a horribly familiar voice.

  Bridget gasped.

  Mason tugged on her. “Run,” he hissed.

  They dashed forward, sprinting through the trees and bushes. The farther they got into the forest, the less they could see in the dark, but Bridget just kept her hand clamped in Mason’s and didn’t look back.

  Behind them, the footsteps followed.

  “Hey!” Oscar called out. “Who’s messing around out here?”

  She did her best to block out his voice. To focus her mind on Mason and not the impending doom that followed them.

  After nearly a minute of running, the forest opened up into a large field, hills and prairies stretching for miles in the moonlight. Mason tugged her to the side to skirt along the forest’s edge. Not far ahead she saw a horse standing. Her heart leapt. She’d never been more excited about transportation.

  “This way,” he whispered, still focused on moving forward.

  They slowed as they neared the beast, and Mason made soft sounds to alert the horse before they rushed to its side. Without hesitation, he stuck his boot in the stirrup and hopped into the saddle. Then he pulled her up behind him.

  Sitting astride a horse still felt highly unusual to her―it wasn’t something women often did back in Boston. Sitting with her knees parted around Mason’s hips was far more unusual. And exciting.

  Even the thought of pressing herself into him, legs open against his body, was enough to send a rush through her. Her thighs clenched, and her knees squeezed into him.

  She bit the inside of her cheek. She was only making it worse.

  Mason slid a hand under her knee and pulled her closer, rocking her against his body.

  “Hold on,” he said.

  She wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing her hands deep into his chest. Then the horse was moving.

  Behind them, however, loud footsteps broke through the edge of the trees.

  “Stop!” Oscar shouted. “Bridget!”

  She buried her face in Mason’s back as he horse thundered into a gallop over the grass. Oscar’s voice faded, and they were on the move.

  Finally. She was free.

  Chapter 9

  By the time the horse slowed, Bridget’s arms and legs hurt from clinging to Mason’s back. She had no complaints on wrapping herself around him and burying her nose in the collar of his shirt to pull in his rich, exotic scent, but once the raw adrenaline of their escape had worn thin, she found herself exhausted.

  Mason’s hand reached back and slid down the side of her calf, and the muscles in her leg grew taut. At his touch, more of her senses came alive, and she became even more aware of how much of her body was pressed against him. His hard back against her breasts. The curve of his bottom nestled against the sensitive junction between her legs. With every new step the horse took, she moved against him, and her pulse fluttered.

  “We’re here,” he murmured, and she looked up.

  She’d been so distracted that she hadn’t realized they’d stepped out of the trees and into a wide clearing. The moon had moved far enough down the sky that it was only casting a sliver of light on them, and the fire in the clearing was burning low. Bridget couldn’t make out his campsite well, but she at least knew they weren’t at a house, certainly not a town.

  They were still in the wilds, far from civilization if she had to guess.

  But at least she was away from Oscar.

  Mason stopped his horse near a single tree and dismounted. Bridget propped her hands on the back of the saddle and let her muscles stretch. If she had to guess, they’d ridden about an hour, and her body was stiff. Though areas of it still buzzed where it’d touched him.

  Staring down into his eyes did not help to calm her nerves. Just seeing his face again, recalling the risk he’d put himself in for her, had her stomach flipping. Her eyes dropped to his lips and back. She wanted to kiss that beautiful man and thank him until the end of her days.

  As if he’d heard her thoughts, he pulled her off the horse and set her in front of him, sliding a hand up her cheek and into her hair. His touch was gentle but fierce. Light fingers that grazed her skin but dug in at the edges to pull her closer.

  “We’re safe,” he breathed.

  The words tickled her just as much as his warm breath on her skin.

  “Safe. And free,” she murmured back. “Thank you. I owe you my life.”

  Her fingers moved tentatively up to his cheek, running over the ridge of his cheekbone and across the soft stubble along his jaw.

  He gave her a crooked smile that reached his eyes and made her knees wobble. “Thank you for coming back to me, angel.”

  She could barely see his face in the darkness, but she caught a glimpse of his eyes move as they dropped to her mouth. Her fingers slid into his short hair, knocking his hat aside. It fell to the ground, and he lowered his head, pressing his lips to hers with an urgency that stole her breath away.

  This time his kiss was not soft and flirty. His mouth captured hers, giving and asking all at once. And she gave back without hesitation. Her lips parted, and his tongue touched hers, flicking and dancing. Her breath escaped as utter relief and excitement filled her.

  Even as her recent horrific luck with men hovered on the edge of her consciousness, she was not afraid. She'd never been more sure of anything in her life. Emotions built within her just as strongly as the heat that flew through her veins, setting her body on fire.

  “Thank God for you, Mason,” she said against his lips.

  His grip on her tightened, and his forehead rested against hers. With a raspy whisper, he answered. “No, thank God for you, angel.”

  He’d scooped her up before she’d seen him move. He cradled her ag
ainst his chest, and they were walking through the darkness. He approached what appeared to be a tent in what was left of the moonlight and slipped inside.

  An even greater darkness enveloped them.

  Mason laid her on a soft mat on the ground and all but disappeared as her eyes adjusted to the inky night. She felt him kneel next to her but his hands were gone. The odd metal scraping over her head told her he’d reached for what sounded like a lantern.

  The loose edges of his shirt brushed her arm and face, and she took the opportunity to explore him, running her hands up his torso and chest. His shirt pulled free from his pants with ease, and her fingers brushed his stomach and waist. His skin was smooth over hard muscles that had her pressing in with curiosity. They flexed against her fingertips, and she smiled.

  When her hands slid underneath his shirt, running up to his ribs, he paused. A raw rumble in his chest tickled her fingers, and she pressed her palms flat to his skin. The primal energy coursing through him entered at her fingers and ran through her entire body, fueling a hungry fire in the pit of her stomach. The core of her body pulsed between clenched thighs.

  Ignited by a new excitement, her hands slid over his shoulders and down his back, parting his shirt from his skin and kneading her fingers into his muscles. His breath stuttered as he worked faster over her head.

  She smiled at the control she had for the moment, moving her hands to his torso again and popping buttons on his shirt free. She’d just finished and pushed the clothing aside when the inside of the tent lit up. The orange firelight burned her eyes until he set it dim again. Nearly dark. Just enough to see the wide wall of his bare chest and the flicker of arousal in his green eyes.

  Then his body lowered over hers. He caught her lips in a possessive kiss and sent his hands roaming over her. His palms brushed her ribs and breasts, awakening them further.

  Her fingers managed to snag the edge of his shirt and pull it away. He twisted his arms out of the sleeves and came back to her with a renewed hunger. His hands caressed over her shoulders and chest as he pulled the dress down her body. When her torso was free, his hands found both her breasts and kneaded them with strong but gentle fingers.