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She stilled for a moment as if listening to his advice, and then resumed her struggles even more frantically, trying to get away from him.
He cussed himself silently for losing patience and scaring her heedlessly.
"Where you going to go if you get loose?" he tried to reason with her. "I've told you, I'm not going to hurt you." His arms tightened around her, molding her back to his front.
Slowly, she began to tire and little by little her struggles diminished to a few small jerks until she went completely still within the circle of his arms.
He held her motionless for a moment and without hurting her, he let her feel his strength, so she would understand it was useless expending anymore of her energy. "That's better. What's your name?"
She shuddered and remained silent.
"A quiet woman. I like that," he said with only a hint of sarcasm.
His arms began to loosen a small bit. "Tell me your name and that you understand I'm not going to hurt you, and I'll let you go."
She stiffened against him and he felt her inhale as her chest rose and then fell as she expelled the harsh breath. Ferocious arousal hit him in the gut from the feel of the small breasts underneath her calico dress pushing against his forearm.
Her voice when it came was raspy and hesitant. "You won't harm me?"
"I won't harm you," Harming her wasn't what he had in mind. "What's your name?"
"Emma Martin."
He felt her voice wash through him and he lowered his mouth to speak directly in her ear. "Nice to meet you, Miss Martin."
She pushed slightly against his arm and seemed to consider her next words. "Mrs. Martin."
"You're married?" His voice hardened.
She paused again. "Not--anymore."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Mrs. Martin." That was a bold-faced lie. He wasn't sorry at all. He hadn't even seen her face, but he'd felt her body, and he didn't want to think about her belonging to another man and being off limits to him. But he tried to commiserate to put her at ease. "Seems like you've had your fair share of tragedy. Were you the only passenger?" he asked her, referring to the robbery.
She blew out a breath but otherwise stayed still. "Yes. Who are you?" her voice was quiet and carried a bite of suspicion.
"Name's Luke Butler, ma'am. The sheriff in Burnet asked me to check out the situation. Now you give me some indication you know I'm not a threat to you and I won't have to chase you down again, and I'll let you go."
She hesitated only momentarily. "I understand," she said in a voice that sounded almost resigned but he didn't altogether believe.
Luke released his grip around her waist and slowly slid his hands to her hips to steady her as he cautiously made sure she was capable of standing on the uneven terrain and that she wouldn't take flight again.
Her body was slim and smooth under his fingers and he had to make himself stop touching her completely and take a step back from her.
She shuffled her feet awkwardly as she turned to face him and he could see she was favoring her right leg.
"You hurt yourself?" he questioned. "Twisted your ankle?"
Emma's mind went blank for a moment and then she realized he thought she had a new injury. She couldn't bring herself to trust him just yet and wondered how his mistake could gain her any leverage against him. "Yes," she stated simply in a lie that caused only a twinge of guilt.
"You shouldn't have tried to run from me. It was a foolish idea and now you've made your situation worse." His voice was curt and he seemed to be out of patience. But he wasn't speaking to her as if she was an invalid or a cripple as so many people did.
Emma was startled to realize that because he thought her injury was a new one, he also thought it was an injury that would heal. That he thought she was a woman like every other woman.
Her thoughts fled as he reached down and placed one arm under her legs and the other under her back and lifted her slight weight into his arms and began carrying her to his buckboard.
"Mr. Butler--"
"Luke." He issued the order with one swift syllable that seemed to take for granted her agreement to the informality.
Emma ignored the command and continued, "Please put me down, sir. I can walk." As shocked as she was to find herself being carried in his arms, at least now she was past thinking he would outright kill or rape her.
"Obviously you can't. You just agreed you twisted your ankle." As he spoke, he deposited her in the conveyance and began to swing up next to her.
The idea that he was under the impression her injury was new and would no doubt heal was intriguing and one she wanted time to ponder but she had a more pressing concern at the moment. He seemed to be ready to drive away and take her with him but leave her belongings behind.
"Stop," she demanded.
He did and turned toward her at the same time. "Ma'am?" He looked directly at her in the dark night and then at the moon that was shining in the darkened sky. She realized he would probably only have just enough light to see to travel by.
"If we're leaving, could you please retrieve my things before we go?" She hesitated to ask the question or talk to him more than was strictly necessary but she couldn't leave without her personal items.
"Posse's heading out at first light to track the outlaws. They'll gather everything and send it back to town. Night's gone dark, I need to get us home." He lifted the reins and she had just enough time to grab a hold before he began to move the horses forward.
She was too intimidated to argue and what he said sidetracked her anyway. "Home?"
"Yeah, my home," he elaborated.
"I can't go home with you, sir." She said in a strained tone.
"You can and you will." His voice brooked no arguments.
"No, I cannot," she argued regardless.
"Well, you can stay here with the coyotes. The sheriff will be here in the morning if you want to wait on him."
As if on cue, the loud and eerie howling of the animals silenced her argument.
"Nothing to say to that, Miz Martin?" His voice was almost a sneer as the threat to leave her had obviously been meant to silence her.
"It must be apparent to you that I can't stay out here all alone so I won't continue to argue about the matter." Her voice was soft but infused with starch.
He must have chosen to ignore her tone and focus on her agreement. "Good girl. Don't care for argumentative women. It'd probably do you good to remember that."
"I have no interest in what you care for or not, Mr. Butler."
He brought the horses to a stop and turned to face her. She knew he was studying her in the darkness and that he couldn't see her any better than she could see him.
But his tone of voice was indicative of his mood and his hand grasped her chin and lifted her face to his. "You seem like a reasonably smart young lady. I think once you think about it a bit, you'll realize you do need to take an interest, and quick-fast, in how not to piss me off. Look around you, girl. You're in the middle of God's country, you've got a twisted ankle, and right about now those coyotes are sniffing around thinking what a tempting bit of supper you'd make. I'd say you'd better learn real quick-like how not to rile me up."
Emma swallowed and trepidation climbed up her throat. His fingers on her face pinched her chin and his voice rang with clear expectation of her submission. His body crowded hers on the seat and his iron thigh pressed into hers. The air around them was redolent with his aggressive masculinity and she had no thought of further insubordination. "I get your point, Mr. Butler."
"My name's Luke. Learn to use it."
She shuddered and closed her eyes briefly and knew she was defying him already with her silence.
"You'll call me by my first name, but I won't push it tonight. You've been through enough. Was it just the two of them?" He turned away, took a firm grip of the reins, and they were in motion once more.
Trying to keep up with his change of subject and relieved at the reprieve he'd given her, her mind turned
reluctantly back to the attack. "How did you know?"
"Saw their tracks."
"Oh." Of course, she knew that there were men who could look at tracks and such and learn about things that went on around them. But having been raised in an orphanage in St. Louis, she'd never had the experience of actually meeting anyway with that kind of knowledge. "Yes, just the two of them."
"And they didn't know you were inside the stage?"
"Why do you ask that?"
"Because you're alive, Emma."
The way he said her Christian name so intimately slid down Emma's spine in an altogether inappropriate, heated rush, before the import of his words chilled her.
"They knew I was inside." Her voice came to a sudden halt and he stopped the horses and turned to her once more. They'd never get to his home at this rate.
"They hurt you in some way you haven't mentioned, ma'am?" His eyes narrowed on her and his lips flattened in a distinct snarl.
Shock slid through her when she realized he was asking if she'd been violated. "No."
His body relaxed slightly at her answer and he continued to study her as if he were trying to work out a puzzle. "Then how is it you're still alive? They wouldn't have wanted to leave any witnesses."
"No, they didn't. The big one, the man in charge--told the other one to finish me." She paused and cleared her throat, trying to get through the ghastly memory. "The big man was loading the stolen goods and was distracted, I guess. I remained in the coach the entire time. The other one looked at me and cocked the trigger. He stared at me a long while and then shot just to the left of me, purposely missing me."
"He had second thoughts." Luke's voice was harsh as he understood the close call she'd had. His guts tied up with tension at the thought.
"Evidently," Emma agreed with a small shudder.
"Lucky for you."
"Yes."
Luke studied her intently in the darkness and wished he could see more than a dim outline of her face. Slowly, he turned back to the horses and began moving them in the direction of the ranch.
"Well, they're gone and won't be back. You're safe now. You'll be safe on my ranch until the next stage comes by."
"Thank you, but I can't possibly stay with you--"
"How do you know you can't stay with me? Maybe I have a wife and five kids." Somehow he knew her hesitation about staying with him had more to do with his unmarried state than with any burden she would put on him and his household.
