Chapter Three
As Zach ate his meal, he watched Bethany across the small fire. He couldn’t figure her out. Why hadn’t she run screaming in terror? He was a felon, a murderer, yet she’d treated him as though he were the preacher come for Sunday supper.
Christ, she’d been like heaven in his arms, pushing against him so sweetly, cradling the rigid length of his cock between the soft curves of her ass as though she’d wanted him there. He’d kissed her neck and cupped her breast and almost came on the spot.
It had been so long… In fact, he hadn’t been with a woman since his wife, Hannah, had been killed. He’d made himself crazy in prison, trying to remember the last time they’d made love. Had it been a day before her death, or a week? He should remember the last time, but he couldn’t.
Forcing thoughts of Hannah away, he concentrated once again on his companion. He’d done a lot of bad things in his life, but he figured planning how to seduce this sweet girl ranked right up there with the murders he’d committed. Higher, really, since the men he’d killed were rapists and killers and had deserved to die.
But if he must burn for his sins, he decided he might as well commit one that was worth it. Was it so wrong to try and grab a few moments of tenderness and bliss before he went to ground again, hunted like the animal he’d become?
Finished with his meal, he threw the paper sack into the fire, watching the flames kick up for as second as they devoured it. “How’s your leg?”
She gave him a startled glance. “It throbs. But I don’t think it’s bleeding anymore.”
“Good. I worried when I saw your bandage had soaked through.”
She shivered a bit and drew the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I’m still cold. But I feel much better now that I’ve eaten.”
Her words gave him the opening he was looking for. “We should try to get some sleep. If we lie beside each other and share the blankets, we should stay warm even if the fire goes out.”
“Can I trust you?” Her imploring gaze made him feel like the biggest cad who’d ever lived. “Promise me I can trust you, Zach.”
Shit.It had been an eternity since someone had trusted him, since someone had believed there was even an ounce of goodness in him. “Yeah,” he mumbled, knowing her trust was the one thing he couldn’t betray. “You can trust me.”
She gave him a tentative smile and remade the pallet, smoothing the heavy blankets until they were neat. Blushing, she slid beneath the top three. With a sigh, he got to his feet, wishing he could take off the damp trousers. But they would serve as a necessary shield, so he supposed he could bear the discomfort.
He stoked the fire then crawled into bed beside her. An entire foot of space yawned between them. For endless moments neither of them moved, and the crackling flames sounded loud in the tense silence.
“When I woke up in your arms, I thought you were my husband, David.” She turned to face him in the flickering light. “He died a year ago. Of tuberculosis. That’s why we moved to Colorado. The doctors said the air would be good for his lungs.”
Hearing the pain in her voice, he reached out and pulled her into his arms, offering the only comfort he could. “Ah, darlin’, I’m sorry.”
She snuggled close, as though she’d wanted his arms around her all along. “I’ve missed this. Being so close to someone, close enough to hear a heartbeat. Since David died, I’ve been so cold, so alone.”
He hugged her tight, her words striking a chord deep within him. “I know. My wife died five years ago.”
“Were you angry with her?” she asked. “Were you angry with her for leaving you all alone?”
Zach shook his head in denial. “No, I was angry with myself. For not being there when she needed me.”
Bethany stared at her handsome companion in the flickering light, stunned by his soft confession. She wondered if he meant his wife had died while he was in prison. Whatever the circumstances, his grief was real. The pain in his eyes convinced her he’d once loved a woman with fierce devotion.
With each passing moment, she found it harder to believe he was a killer. Though she knew it was foolish, she longed to believe he was a good man. Reaching up, she traced his lean jaw, discovering the dark stubble shadowing his beautiful face was surprisingly soft.
“Don’t blame yourself. I’m sure she knew how much you loved her.”
He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against her palm. “Did she? I didn’t even know myself until she was gone.”
She inched closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, only to shift back when her feet encountered his damp trousers. He couldn’t be comfortable, and she knew he was enduring the cold in order to protect her modesty. She bit her lip, wondering if she dare suggest he take them off.
What harm could it do? If he meant to have her, one layer of damp material wouldn’t stop him. And she didn’t want him to become ill. She didn’t care what laws he’d broken; he’d saved her life, and she didn’t want him to go back to jail.
“Your trousers are soaked,” she murmured, gathering her courage. “You’ll get sick if you don’t take them off.”
He opened his eyes, surprise shimmering in those deep blue depths. “Aren’t you afraid of me?”
“You said I could trust you,” she reminded him, feeling reckless. For some reason, shedidtrust him. So far, he’d been far more of a gentleman than she had any right to expect.
