The broken rogue - healed by innocence

Stalling them

*Norah*

Incensed, I fling a thousand silent curses at the man riding behind me. At least he's bound my wrists together in front so I can grip the saddle horn. I can't believe he actually called my bluff.

And to make matters worse, he roughly shoves his hat onto my head once the sun rises higher in the sky. I welcome the shade it provides. With my fair complexion, I'm prone to freckles, sunburn, and blisters. I've always hated those freckles. When I was younger, I often wished I didn't have to look at them. But as they say, be careful what you wish for.

We ride at a steady pace. A quick burst of galloping, followed by a longer stint of walking. I didn't expect a man with River's reputation to take such care with his horses. Although, when I think about it, I realize that abusing his animals would only lead to his capture and the hangman's rope.

Every rational bone in my body tells me I should be terrified, and yet, I can't figure out why I'm not. Perhaps it's the way he scolded Thiago for calling me a w***e, or the manner in which he got after me for using profanity. An outlaw who worries about such matters... he's a puzzle, and none of the pieces seem to fit properly.

I wish I could say the same about the way my body molds into his, but the truth is, it fits perfectly.

I feel River draw back on the reins, and I'm relieved that this bout of galloping is coming to an end. Although the slower pace isn't much better, I have more success at holding my body away from his when the horse plods along. At a gallop, River folds himself around me like a long-lost lover, his beard catching in my hair from time to time.

"We should probably alternate the woman between horses so yours is not overly burdened," a voice I don't recognize announces.

"Or you could just leave the burden right here," I snap.

"I think you offended her, Tomás," River says, his warm breath skimming along the nape of my neck, causing a delicious shiver to scurry down my spine. How does he effortlessly elicit this unwanted response from me?

"Tomás is right. Your horse won't be able to keep up with ours if he has to constantly carry the extra weight," Joaquín says.

"I'm not that heavy!" I retort, my anger growing to encompass each man, the entire intolerable situation, but most of all, River's constant breathing.

"I think she prefers to stay with me, hombres," River says, and I can envision a satisfied smile on his dark face.

"I prefer a rattlesnake," I say curtly. At least a serpent gives warning before it strikes.

"Then why do you argue against moving to another horse?" he asks.

Why indeed? Because for reasons I cannot fathom and do not really want to contemplate, I do feel safe within the enticing circle of his strong arms.

"I need a moment of privacy," I announce to distract myself as much as them.

"Again!" Tomás shouts. "You can't possibly need time behind the bushes so soon."

I angle my chin defiantly. "I'm sorry, but I've always had to... relieve myself frequently." The words are a lie, but I know the blush burning my face is true. I don't want to speak of bodily functions, but it's the only excuse I've been able to come up with to slow our progress.

"It hasn't even been an hour," Tomás says.

He's obviously the complainer of the group. River never chastises me when I indicate that I need time alone. I've been able to convince him to stop six times now. The man is either a fool or more considerate than I care to give him credit for. I turn my head slightly so he can see me licking my lips as though I'm embarrassed by and sorry for my request.

"I really can't wait much longer," I say in a low voice. "I'd hate to ruin your fine saddle."

He brings the horse to a halt. His spurs clink as his boots hit the ground. Bracketing my waist with his hands, he lifts me and lowers me slowly, very slowly. My body is close enough to his that I am acutely aware of the heat radiating from his chest, actually hear the fabric of my dress rasping against the material of his shirt, and feel the warmth of his breath wafting across my cheek. That damned breath again. If he means to disconcert me, he is accomplishing his goal with remarkable deftness.

As soon as my feet are planted firmly on the ground, I step away, decidedly uncomfortable with the proximity of River's body. Too near because somehow the fact that we aren't on his horse makes him that much more threatening.

Just as he has each time before, he places his hand on my back with a surety that no doubt comes from knowing an abundance of women. "This way, señorita."

A pang of guilt shoots through me as he guides me away from the others, toward what I know will be a secluded area. Most people take my arm and walk me as though I were a favored pet, not an independent woman. It's uncanny the way River subtly presses on one side of my back or the other to ensure that I sidestep objects.

He removes his hand from my back. Halting, I lift my bound hands. He unties the bandanna from my wrists.

"Am I hidden?" I ask in as meek a voice as I can muster.

"Sly as a fox," he replies.

I listen to his retreating footsteps before quickly circling the small area. I locate a tree and the nearby brush. I rustle my skirts to give the impression that I am lifting them, and then I very slowly, very quietly, ease my way to the ground. With a triumphant smile, I reach into my pocket, withdraw my beloved deck of cards, and settle in to play three games of patience.

My goal is to slow them down until they have no choice but to leave me behind or be captured. A dangerous undertaking that carries risks... and a measure of unanticipated excitement.

I certainly can't classify the last twelve hours as dull. No, dull is sitting beside a window with only the warm sunlight for company and having my meticulous stitches earn praise from the owner of the shop where I work.

Now, I am being challenged as I've never been before, striving to anticipate River's goals and seeking ways to thwart him. Without a doubt, I want to be free of him, and yet a part of me welcomes the opportunity to outsmart him, to put him in his place atop the gallows. To prove to myself and the world that I don't need anyone in order to survive. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

Of course, the fact that I am in this predicament to begin with might detract from my victory, should I ever achieve it.

"Señorita, we don't have all day!" Tomás yells.

"I'm trying to hurry," I sing back, laying out my last row of cards.

I hear footsteps growing louder, then fainter, as though someone is pacing a short distance behind me… no doubt River, waiting for me to announce I am finished. I turn over the top card.

The ultimate satisfaction would reside in capturing him myself. Although even if I somehow manage to meet that goal, I am not certain how I would deliver him anywhere.

More often than not, I consider my blindness a minor inconvenience, but sometimes it proves a definite disadvantage. The most I can realistically hope for is escape. The sooner the better, because the farther I travel from home, the less likely I think it that he will keep his promise and return me to my family.

Why would a notorious outlaw even bother to make such a promise? He obviously puts his needs first; otherwise, he would never have abducted me.

As for River's concern about my welfare... I don't trust him. He has another motive in mind, no doubt the ransom he mentioned earlier. My father would pay handsomely for my return, and my mortification would be complete with the undeniable evidence that my independence is little more than an invisible thread tethering me to family and home.

As I place the eight of hearts on the nine of spades, I hear a pop and freeze. It can't be River. No approaching footsteps provided warning of his imminent return, and I definitely heard his retreat. My active imagination is running wild. Slowly releasing my tension, I turn over another card.

"The black jack…" River begins.

I yelp at his irascible voice, near enough that the air shimmies.

“…Goes on the red queen," he finishes.