Bonnie expected the ravishing to begin again, but the cowboy stood and bolted the door. It occurred to her that he could have done that earlier and avoided the scene.
She studied him as he began washing the dishes. "Your name really Bradford?"
"Brad," he answered. "No one but my brother calls me Bradford. He's ten years older than me and was wild and gone from home before I remembered him. A few years back I came back to Texas to find him, since he's my only relative. I decided I'd better stay. God knows he needs someone to watch over him.”
As she pieced together the conversation with the men, it occurred to her that he might have saved her life. She definitely would fall in the witness category, and Sol had said some guy named Charlie had killed all the witnesses.
A chill moved across her heart. Sage was there. Had she been in the body count? Bonnie had to get back and find out. If anyone survived besides her, it would be the doc. Bonnie had to believe it, because she couldn't accept anything less right now.
Brad picked up a knife off the table and walked toward her. Before she could get more than a squeak of a scream out, he slashed through the rope that bound her to his bed.
She jumped free of him and huddled in the far corner of the bed. "You're letting me go?"
"No, but there's no need to make you uncomfortable.” He walked back to his work with the dishes. "The storm's getting worse. We couldn't leave now, even if we were of a mind to."
"What are you going to do with me?"
He didn't answer.
She scooted off the bed and took a few steps toward him. "I said, what are you going to do with me?"
He straightened and turned. "I'm going to get to know you, then I'll take you back, safe and sound. I haven't had a woman close enough to even talk to in a long time. I figure you owe me that. Company is all I'm asking, lady, just company.”
No one had ever said they wanted to know her. She was always the woman at the dance who never got asked, the one who sat alone. That's why she'd thrown herself into nursing. She'd wanted her world too busy for those awkward times when people looked right through her, or worse, made fun of her.
"Maybe you'd better sit down, lady," she heard him say. Then she was on the stool close to the fire. He handed her a comb and watched as she began to untangle her long, unruly hair.
He poured himself a cup of coffee and watched her as if fascinated.
"All my pins are gone," she said, thinking how improper it was to have hair about her shoulders. Her mother used to say the curly mass looked like a bush when it wasn't tied up.
"It looks fine” He pulled the rocker so close their knees touched. "When I saw you that day on the street. I thought about how I'd like to get acquainted, but a pretty lady like you would never look at the likes of me”
The man must be blind, she thought. An insane blind man. "Then when I saw you at Shelley's place, all I thought about was getting you somewhere safe. When we got here and you started talking about me ravishing you, I thought you were teasing. Let's face it, we're both of the age to know what a roll in the hay is all about.”
He took one of her hands and looked like he had no idea what to do with it. "Then, when I kissed you, I realized you didn't know. It doesn't seem possible that a lady like you wouldn't have been kissed a few thousand times by now, but that's the feeling I got”
She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. He thought her a lady, probably because of the hand-tailored traveling suit Sage had bought her. It made no sense that he thought a man, any man, had wanted to kiss her. Not once in her adult life.
When all else failed her, Bonnie used humor to answer. "Most men can't reach my lips.” she said and then straightened. "And the others wouldn't dare try.”
He laughed and leaned closer. "They don't know what they are missing."
Then, as easily as if they were old lovers, he leaned closer and kissed her lightly. "Tell me about the first time you were kissed."
Bonnie stared at the fire. She'd never told anyone about that first time, but her nerves were rattled, her defenses down. It seemed as good a time as any to be honest. "My parents were old. They had me in their late forties and weren't too happy about it. I was always too tall, too awkward. When we went to church socials, I was usually told to help in the kitchen, which was fine with me. One evening I was taking the garbage out, and a boy about four years older grabbed me and pulled me into the dark. His kiss, if you can call it that, split my lip. He slapped me hard for getting blood on his shirt. When I got home, I got three licks with a strap for being clumsy. If I'd told the truth, my father would have beat me far worse”
"Come here.” Brad said as he tugged her off her stool and into his arms.
Bonnie never cried, not even when she was small. It had always been her own private little defiance. She rested her head on his shoulder and let one tear fall.
"I'm sorry” he said. "I didn't mean to be so rough with you back there. I only wanted you to look like you were hot with passion. If my brother had guessed the truth, he might not have shot you, but the man with him would have. He'd have probably killed us both."
"So, you just kissed me for show." Bonnie felt like a fool for even thinking it had been passion.
"The first time." He moved his hand along her arm. "And maybe the second, but the third kiss had nothing to do with the danger we were in."
She laughed. "Thanks for that, I guess. You know, once I heard a woman say that she had a lover that moved over her like a warm summer storm. She said it only lasted a night, but the memory was burned into her thoughts forever. I never understood what she meant until you moved over me."
He was silent for so long, she wished she could take her foolish words back. They weren't friends. They never would be. He had saved her life, back at the gambling house and again here, but in turn, she'd given him probably the only alibi this gang would have accepted.
"You know, lady, I've never been anyone's storm before. That lover of your friend must have been mighty proud to know that just once he'd had such an effect on a woman."
He moved his hand up her bare arm as if cherishing the feel of her. "I'll take you back when the rain stops."
Rocking back in his chair, he crossed his leg over one knee to make room for her in his lap. "If you don't mind, I'd like to hold you for a while. I've never held anything so fine."
"All right," she managed to say calmly as if the request were nothing out of the ordinary. Not once had her father touched her except to discipline her, and her mother saw any affection as weak. For a few minutes she could let him hold her. No one would ever know.
"Tell me about your first kiss?" she asked.
He brushed her arm gently as he laughed. "I met a gal when I was barely grown at a barn raising in Tennessee. Prettiest little thing you've ever seen. We were married that night. I kissed her for the first time when I brought her back to a place. I was farming. I was so big, more than a foot taller than her. I was afraid I'd hurt her, and in the end, I guess I killed her. She died less than a year later trying to deliver a stillborn baby. A few months later, I married her older sister. I didn't love her. Wasn't even attracted to her, but I was young and all alone, so I figured I needed a wife."
"What was wrong with her?"
"Nothing, really, except maybe she thought everything was wrong with me. I couldn't do anything right. She was taller than her sister and probably carried fifty or more pounds. I thought if I ever got up the nerve to get her pregnant, she'd be able to carry a child, and that was all that mattered to me.”
"Her father said if he hadn't married her off to me, he'd be stuck with her for life:" Brad laughed. "Her moods could sour milk still in the cow. He lied about her not ever finding anyone, though. A few months after we married, she ran off with a railroad worker. Last I heard, they were living up North somewhere and had a dozen kids. After the sisters, I knew I wasn't meant for the married life, so I started drifting."