Chapter Eleven

Rebecca woke from a peaceful sleep, finding that she was still wrapped snugly in Brantley's arms. Her eyes wandered down his angled face, so peaceful in slumber. She took in the lines of his neck that led down to those broad, well-muscled shoulders.

His strong arm was wrapped around her and her bare skin was flush against his torso. This was a new situation for Rebecca who had never before awaken in a man's arms.... She'd never fallen asleep with a man either. Martin had his own bedroom and she was expected to leave it and return to her room when he'd finished with her.

But Brantley had loved her body in ways that Rebecca had not known possible. He had taken time to taste and worship every last inch of her and she'd found her release countless times before they'd both collapsed upon the lumpy mattress and fell deep and contentedly asleep, curled up into each other.

Rebecca's soul was conflicted. On one hand, she felt more at peace and alive here with Brantley than she'd felt in nearly a decade. The connection she felt with his kindred spirit was strong and it was real and it felt so very right. But on the other hand....

On the other hand she wore another man's ring. A man who had paid good money for her. A man who had been decent to her all these years despite her inability to give him the one thing he truly desired. Not to mention, she was only here with Brantley because she'd been kidnapped by the men he called family.

But, that wasn't Brantley's fault and he had offered to allow her to leave—which she knew would mean trouble for him; possibly even death when his gang members returned.

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed and in desperate need of air, Rebecca disentangled herself from Brantley's body and slid from the bed. He grunted but showed no other signs of waking. Slipping into her clothes quickly, Rebecca left the tiny room and entered the main cabin, realizing there was early morning light streaming through the windows.

After a quick trip to the outhouse, Rebecca decided to see to some breakfast. After being denied simple household chores and duties for so long, it felt liberating to do them once more.

After building a fire in the cookstove, Rebecca peeled several potatoes and placed them and some eggs in a pan to fry.

She walked to the window, as they cooked, and stared out at the miles of land stretching off into the horizon. Why did she feel so comfortable here? Why did this shack, which was essentially a prison, feel more a home after a couple of days than Martin's giant mansion after nearly a decade?

As her mind struggled to come up with the answer to her questions, Rebecca felt a strong set of arms wrap around her middle and a warm mouth caressed her bare neck. Trembles coursed through her. Brantley's touch inspired heat and hunger like she had never known and yet it already felt familiar and warm and somehow comforting.

"Good morning," he greeted, his deep voice washing against her ear and rumbling out of the broad chest pressed to her back.

Rebecca leaned into him and let out a shaking breath. "Good morning."

"Why did you leave the bed?"

Rebecca hadn't been expecting that question. She laid her arms over his on her stomach and shrugged a shoulder. "We're going to need food to keep our strength up," she replied, hoping her voice contained the teasing coyness she was attempting.

Brantley grunted. He pulled away, spun her around gently and then pulled her back against him, this time smoothing hair from her face and looking into her eyes. "Don't lie. Despite my upbringing and unlawful ways, I am a fairly educated man and I'm good at reading. Right now, your eyes are telling one hell of a story. Do you regret last night?"

Rebecca didn't answer right away. She looked into those green eyes and found she couldn't speak. He seemed so damn vulnerable as he searched her gaze. He would be hurt if she said yes but she knew she had to tell the truth. What was the truth? Did she regret what they had shared?

"No. No, I don't regret anything about last night."

Those strong, angled cheeks crinkled as a smile spread across his face. He swooped low and kissed her—a touch so gentle and so natural.

Memories of walking into the kitchen on early mornings and seeing her own mother and father all wrapped up like this, sharing quiet kisses and touches, flashed through her mind.

Brantley was her one.... Brantley was the man for her just like her father had been the man for her mother. With Brantley, Rebecca could have a life of love.

Except she couldn't.

She was married another man and Brantley was, in an essence, married to the gang. Neither was free to envision any real future with the other.

What she had found with Brantley was a temporary daydream of a life she might have had had fate sent her on a different path.

A scent reached her nose and Rebecca quickly pulled away. "The potatoes are burning!" she exclaimed.

After saving their breakfast, the two sat at the rickety table and ate together. When they were finishing their meal, Brantley reached out and took her hand. "They'll probably be coming for you soon."

Rebecca felt her heart twist. She didn't want to leave Brantley—but on the flip side of that coin, if Martin didn't pay, Hoff and the men would probably kill her. Brantley couldn't protect her against so many even if he cared enough to stand against them.

"It's taken awhile... What if Martin didn't pay?" she whispered, the words somehow twisting their way around the lump in her throat.

Brantley's green eyes narrowed. "Why do you seem so worried he won't?"

Rebecca pulled her hand from his, tore her eyes from his gaze and wrapped her arms around herself as shame and sadness overwhelmed her. "I'm barren, Brantley. Martin doesn't want to admit that aloud but we both know it's true. He resents me terribly because of that and I can't blame him. He wanted a young wife to give him children—that was his only reason for marrying. He paid a good deal of money and I was supposed to give him children in return. He may choose to not waste money on a worthless wife twice."

Brantley's voice was low, even and carefully controlled when he spoke. "You're a woman, Rebecca, not a goddamn broodmare."

A tear threated to spill from her eye and she blinked it away. She could barely form words as she stared at the floor. "Not to him."

The words no sooner left her lips and Brantley was on his feet and pulling her to hers. She frowned. "Be careful.. you're not wearing your sling. You'll hurt your shoulder." She had seen the healing bullet wound there and he had told her about the card game gone wrong. She thought it said a lot about the man Brantley was that he hadn't killed the man who had shot him. Brantley might ride with murderers but, clearly, he wasn't one.

Brantley growled. "My shoulder is fine." He pulled her close. "If your husband has any sense at all, he'll pay any price in the world to get you back. Hell, Rebecca, if you were mine and someone took you away, I'd tear the gates off hell itself to get you back."

Rebecca moaned as everything within her body and soul yearned to be Brantley's. Reality, however, was a cruel truth "But I'm not yours."

Brantley's mournful green eyes spoke volumes and let her know that he was just as unhappy with that fact as she was. He dropped his head and kissed her lips in a tender caress. Rebecca felt her heart beat quicken as she kissed him back.

"I better go tend to my horse," Brantley sighed as he slowly pulled away.

"Should you put your sling back on?" she asked, fussing with the front of her dress. "You don't want to hurt yourself."

Brantley's rich laughter filled the cabin. "Look at you already nagging me to death."

Rebecca could do little more than smile as Brantley sat his hat upon his head and left the cabin.

Life wasn't fair—it wasn't fair at all.

***

Brantley stepped into the dusty barn and greeted the roan mare that waited there. As he went about seeing to her food trough, Brantley thought about the sudden turn his life had taken.

Never had Brantley thought a woman like Rebecca would come crashing into his life—but she had. And now everything had changed. Never had he laid he with a woman and felt it clear down in his soul. It was as if Rebecca had grabbed hold of something deep inside of him and branded it hers.

It ripped and tore at his pride and his soul to know that Rebecca wasn't truly his. Soon, he would have to give her back to another man....

....or would he?

It was clear that Rebecca was feeling the same pull, the same want, the same need that he felt. She didn't love her husband. She had told Brantley enough about the son of a bitch to let him know Martin Smallwood had no real love for his wife and did not deserve a woman with her depth and spirit.

They could run. He could go in the cabin, swoop her up and ride hard in whichever direction the horse decided to take them in. Brantley knew Hoff and the men would come for them but he knew Rebecca was tough and Brantley knew how to survive—he'd spent his entire life doing just that.

Brantley's mind made up and his shoulders tense with determination, Brantley knew he had to go have a talk with Rebecca. A talk about futures. A talk that Brantley had never, not in his wildest stretches of imagination, pictured he would have.

Stepping toward the barn door to go do just that, Brantley realized he was too late when the sound of thundering hooves reached his ears.