She jerked the chain, raising his arm in the process, and went to the blanket on the left, then lay down, her arm straight up, pointing toward him.
“I think…” he began. “I mean…”
She didn’t look at him but stared up at the stars.
He lay down on the blanket that was three feet from hers, and she saw the problem at once. When he was on his back, as she was, his arm was drawn across his chest, as was hers, and since their blankets were so far apart, they had to stretch. All in all, the position was rather painful. But she vowed that she’d endure any pain before she said another word to him.
“You don’t think that we could, ah…change places, do you? If you were over here and I was over there, this might work out better.”
“I am as comfortable as any prisoner can be, Captain.”
“I see. Not going to move even if you’re in pain all night, is that it?”
She didn’t answer him, but stared up at the stars, her whole body rigid with anger. The next thing she knew, he was on top of her, his big body fully covering hers. Out of instinct she began to kick and thrash about.
“Could you be still a moment?” he said in exasperation. “I’m merely trying to get on the other side of you. Since you refuse to move and since you constantly complain that I manhandle you, this is the only way.”
He rolled off her and lay on the other side for a moment. “Oh, sorry,” he said as he reached across her to get his blanket. As he did so his arm rested on her breast, and for a moment he looked down at her. Maddie held her breath, thinking that he was going to kiss her. But he just whispered, “Sorry again,” and moved so that he was no longer touching her.
She cursed herself in a couple of languages and tried to fold her arms over her chest, but that brought Captain Montgomery’s hand over so that it lay on her breast. She flung his arm off her as though it were something vile.
“I wish you’d make up your mind whether I’m a rapist or whether I’m not interested in women. Good night, ma’am.”
His words made Maddie open her mouth to ask him what he meant by that, but she closed it. She wasn’t going to ask him anything. She drew the too-thin blanket over her and closed her eyes. Did she think she could sleep? She was worried about Laurel, she was chained to an idiot of a man, she was cold, hungry, her corset was cutting her in half, and her bladder was full.
When she heard the deep-sleep breathing of Captain Montgomery, she turned and hissed at him. How could he sleep? The most awful things could happen and men never lost their appetites or their ability to sleep. Put food in front of a man and he ate it. Lay a man horizontal and he went to sleep—or he began fumbling with the buttons on a woman’s dress.
She turned and looked at him, flat on his back, sound asleep. Around him was a regular arsenal of weapons, all at the ready. She wondered if she could possibly sneak his pistol away from him. Maybe she could threaten him with it, make him release her. She inched her hand forward.
“Why don’t you relax and go to sleep and stop playing Indian?”
His voice so startled her that she jumped. “I thought you were asleep.”
“Obviously. What’s wrong?” He spoke again before she could list her anger. “Besides not liking being here with me.”
“I don’t like being chained, that’s what.”
“All right, you’ve said that. Just go to sleep and it will be morning soon and I’ll unlock the thing. This isn’t exactly comfortable to me either. You may not have noticed, but there are only three blankets. I think I’m on some cactus.”
“Good. It serves you right. I hope you don’t expect me to pick out the thorns.”
“You want me to tell you a story so you can sleep? Or sing you a song?”
“With your voice? I’d rather hear a chorus of frogs.”
“You could sing to me,” he said softly. “I’d like that.”
“A song for the key,” she said quickly.
He was quiet for so long that she turned to look at him. “That’s a hard one. To give myself immense pleasure, I might be risking your life. You might be like the sirens and sing me to my death. Or your death if you left without me. Oh, Maddie, this is a dilemma.”
A great deal of her anger melted and her muscles began to be a little less tight. “Do you really like my singing? You no longer think I’m just a ‘traveling singer’?”
“I’m worried I’m going to hell for that remark and even more worried that I may deserve the punishment. Maddie, you could bring dead men back to life with that voice of yours.”
She turned over on her side toward him. “Really? You don’t hate opera anymore?”
“Well, maybe I do.” He turned a bit toward her. “Opera in general