Long into the pitch-black nights she lay awake, replaying the times when his strong arms had held her close. The images were so real she could hear his heart drumming in her ear, feel the black silk of his hair sifting through her fingers. As the coldness of the ground seeped through the blankets and into her bones, chilling her to the core, she remembered the heat of Jake's body, of his mouth and hands gliding over her skin.
Humiliating though it was to admit, at those times she broke down and cried. She couldn't help it. Jake was tearing her apart with his silence, his brooding glares, his anger that hadn't faded a bit. Since he refused to tell her what had caused the tension between them, Amanda couldn't hope to repair it.
That didn't mean she could stop dwelling on it. Her mind worked overtime; speculation was driving her crazy. Jake had spoken of lies, but she didn't know which lies he'd been referring to. Confessing to one, only to find out he was talking about another, would only make the situation worse—if that was possible.
Amanda had decided
early on that it would be better if she kept her mouth shut for once, no matter how much the silence was tearing her up inside. It was one of the most difficult things she had ever done, but she did it.
They reached the outskirts of a town at noon on the third day out. Amanda sat back in the saddle and surveyed her surroundings with a critical eye. By Eastern standards, this wasn't much of a town. Shacks of buildings lined the narrow streets. Dusty planked boardwalks, unconnected, stretched out in front of hastily constructed false-fronted shops. The chilly air was thick with the odor of dirt and manure.
The majority of inhabitants of this nameless mining town appeared to be male—and of the none too savory variety. Judging from their grimy, tattered clothes, most mined the diggin's on the outskirts of town. The men looked ragged, slightly gaunt, and tired. The image was enhanced by the months-long growth of coarse, untrimmed beard they sported.
There were few women, though an occasional "fancy lady" could be glimpsed lounging in the doorway of one of the many saloons or dancehalls. Amanda's cheeks colored when her gaze fixed on one woman in particular. The woman was unlike any Amanda had ever seen. She had flaming orange hair that couldn't be a God-given shade, and was wearing a gaudy crimson, indecently low-cut dress. The full skirt swished provocatively from hip to ankle as the woman sauntered down the shaded boardwalk.
Catcalls and lewd suggestions could be heard long after the "lady" had disappeared inside one of the dilapidated buildings.
Amanda sent Jake a sideways glance. She wondered if he'd noticed the woman. And if he had, was he as shocked by the redhead's appearance as Amanda had been?
The answer to both questions was no. If Jake had seen the woman, he gave no sign as, with a flick of his wrist, he pulled his mount to a stop dead center of the narrow dirt street.
Amanda fidgeted uncomfortably when a few curious stares turned their way. Thankfully, a brooding glare from a certain pair of hard silver eyes was quick to divert attention from them.
"Why are we stopping?" she asked, and she guided the mare alongside his white. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the commotion of a couple of miners who'd broken into a violent fistfight not too far away.
Jake shrugged. Leaning back, he reached beneath his vest and fumbled with something he'd shoved into the inside pocket. When his hand reemerged, he was holding the antique gun he'd wrestled away from Amanda what felt like a lifetime ago.
Her eyes widened. The pistol wasn't really that small, yet in Jake's hand, it looked like a child's toy. Sunlight glinted off the barrel as, wordlessly, he held it out to her.
Caution mixed liberally with dread flickered in Amanda's eyes as she took it. The coldness of the butt seeped into her palms, chilling the blood that pumped through her veins. Her gaze lifted, locking with his. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Use it to defend yourself," he said, and looked away. "What else?"
"Defend myself? But..." She licked her suddenly dry lips. "I thought that was what I hired you for."
She'd said something wrong. Amanda knew it the second she saw his eyes darken and his expression cloud over. But what? She thought about asking him, but knew it would be a waste of time. He wouldn't tell her. She decided to save her breath. While they weren't exactly getting along, at least Jake was talking to her now. That was a good start. In the last three days she'd come to hunger for the sound of his voice. Now that she had it she was reluctant to give it up.
"Well?" Amanda asked when she realized he hadn't answered her. "Isn't it what I hired you for?"
"No." His gaze was trained on the street, assessing the people who milled on the boardwalks. "You hired me to find your cousin. Protecting you wasn't part of the bargain."
"Maybe not, but it's something you've been doing up until now," she pointed out cautiously.
"You can't always count on me being around to keep an eye on you, Miss Lennox." Though he nodded to the gun, he didn't look at her. "I'll feel better leaving you alone if I know you've got something to defend yourself with. You keep that thing with you, and you keep it loaded, y'hear?"
Loaded? she thought. That was a tall order; she didn't have any bullets to load it with. Worse, she couldn't tell Jake that. He obviously hadn't checked, or he would know the gun was empty. Since he was already angry at her for one lie, she was reluctant to confess to this one, her lie about the gun.
Amanda swallowed back a surge of panic. "Where are you going that you'll be leaving me alone?"
He shrugged, and angled the hat back on his head. With the sunlight glinting off his chiseled copper face and the faded red bandanna tied like a headband around his brow, he looked every bit the wild, untamed savage. His expression was harsh, brooding and dark. "Nowhere. Yet. At least not until we've found a hotel and gotten you a room. After that..."
"What?"
"I'm going to go out and buy us some supplies. In case you haven't noticed, we're running low."
Amanda had noticed. Actually, they'd run out of everything but coffee two days ago. That hadn't seemed to bother Jake. He'd simply leave their camp shortly after they made it and, an hour or two later, return with fresh game. How he'd managed to do that using only his knives she never knew. And never asked. She was just grateful he never brought back a snake!
"And after that?" she asked tightly.