Fear shot through her, leaving her dizzy and weak.
He stepped away long enough to take hold of the horse’s bridle. He tugged his bandanna down and gestured toward the other men already entering the forest. “Now we walk.”
Juliana resisted, unwilling to blindly follow him. “I’m not moving from this spot until you answer me.”
He spun on his heel and brought his face close to hers, his grip on her arm firm but not bruising. She’d noticed his eyes right off. A brilliant shade—dark, almost purple-blue—put her in mind of the poisonous larkspur blooms that dotted the meadows each spring. Beautiful yet deadly.
“Do as I say, Miss O’Malley,” he said in a near whisper, “and I just might be able to get you out of this mess.”
“You need help, Harrison?” The man who’d robbed Mr. Moore had stopped and was watching them. Something about him disturbed her. “Looks like a handful to me.”
Her captor, apparently named Harrison, didn’t turn around. His eyes never wavering from her face, he drawled, “Good thing I like my women feisty.”
Juliana stiffened. She opened her mouth to protest, but faltered at the almost imperceptible shake of his head. Strangely, his suggestive words were at odds with the grim light in his eyes.
“Not me,” the other man snorted. “I like mine submissive.”
Harrison’s mouth flattened, his features hardening to granite. He was angry, perhaps even disgusted, by the other man.
To Juliana, he said, “There’s a stream straight ahead and some shade. We’ll rest long enough to eat a bite before heading back out.”
Juliana felt a spark of hope. “You can leave me here. We’re not so far from Gatlinburg, after all. Might take me a while, but I can make it back before nightfall. I don’t mind walking—”
He held up a hand. “That’s not an option. Come on, I’m parched and so is my horse.”
“But I want to go home! My mother and sisters will be desperate to find me!”
He glanced over his shoulder. The others had disappeared into the woods, leaving them alone. His eyes bored into hers. “Trust me. I’m going to think of a way to get you home.”
Trust him? A common thief? He was the one who’d forced her from the mercantile and ordered her onto his horse. No, his words were empty, as substantial as a fistful of air.
This was her chance. It might be her only one.
Grateful that she’d chosen to wear her brand-new, hard-soled work boots, Juliana did what she’d done as a child tousling with her cousins—nailed him in the shin with the toe of her boot and with her free arm elbowed him in the ribs. He grunted in surprise and relaxed his hold.
Juliana slipped out of his grasp and sprinted away, uncertain which direction to take. She found herself following the hard-packed dirt trail on which they’d just traveled.
Her bonnet hung by its strings around her neck, and her hair, loosened by the jarring ride on horseback, uncoiled now to stream down her back.
Heavy footsteps sounded close behind and a small scream escaped her lips.
Faster! She pushed her legs to take longer strides. Her temples throbbed. Her side ached. The chase was over as suddenly as it began.
Bands of steel encircled her waist and down she went. Her captor twisted beneath her and she landed on top of him, his body a cushion against the rocky ground. The wind was knocked from her lungs. His arms locked around her.
“That,” he puffed angrily, “was a stupid stunt.”
Using her hands on his chest as leverage, she arched away from him, trying to break free of his hold. Her struggles were useless against his brute strength. He held fast. With a grunt, he rolled over so that he hovered above her, hands pressing her shoulders into the dirt. His face was inches from her own, his breath mingling with hers.
“Listen to me,” he warned through gritted teeth, “if you want to survive the night you’d better do exactly as I say.”
His dark blue eyes turned stone-cold and the look on his rugged face bordered on menacing. She trembled involuntarily.
“I’m not the one you need to worry about. Fitzgerald and the others will not have patience with your antics. They would’ve shot you dead the instant you bolted. In fact, I’m going to have to do some fancy talkin’ to explain why I didn’t.”
At her swift intake of breath, his voice gentled somewhat. “I’m not trying to scare you into cooperating. I’m trying to keep you out of trouble. Understand?”
Juliana nodded.
“No, I wanna hear you say it.”
“I understand,” she managed.
“No more stunts?”
“No more stunts.”
“I sure hope you mean that, lady.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. Then he marched her back to where his horse stood grazing and guided them both into the woods.
Twigs cracked beneath their boots. Far above them, birds twittered a cheerful song in their nests. Juliana was grateful for the shade. Her neck was damp from the weight of her hair, and the bodice of her dress clung to her skin. Her heart thumped against her rib cage. He’d frightened her there at the last, more even than when he’d aimed a gun at her. His forbidding expression still burned in her mind.
When she finally saw the stream up ahead, she resisted the urge to run and lie down in it.
Two of the bandits turned to stare at them. The skinny one seemed nervous, his gaze shifting between her and the other two. The man she assumed was Fitzgerald looked hard at her. He was not an unattractive man, average really, and built like a bull.
Juliana resisted the urge to hide behind Harrison.
“I thought you said you could handle her.” The words came out as an accusation.
“She didn’t get away, did she?” Harrison shot back.
“We’ll have to get rid of her at some point, you know. She knows too much.”
The cruel words, spoken so casually, washed over her like a wave of icy water.
“Not yet.” Harrison stole a glance at her. “I want some time alone with her first.”
Juliana faltered, suddenly sick to her stomach. After all his promises to get her to safety, she hadn’t expected that. She lowered her gaze to the ground.
Fitzgerald barked a laugh. “Good for you, Harrison. I was beginning to wonder about you. Six months on the trail and you never once joined us at the saloon.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve always been a sucker for Irish beauties.”
Juliana’s head shot up, but he kept his face averted from her searching gaze. A red flush climbed up his neck, indicating what? Embarrassment? No, that would mean he possessed a conscience.
Moving to dig in his saddlebags, he brought out a small tin cup and held it out to her without sparing her a glance. It chafed to have to accept anything from him, but thirst drove her. Careful to avoid his fingers, she grabbed the cup and hurried to the water’s edge to fill it. The cold, crisp water washed away the film of dirt coating her throat.
“Take this.” He appeared beside her with a bulging handkerchief. “We’re only going to be here about fifteen minutes, so if I were you I’d eat fast.”
“I don’t want it.” She stood abruptly and stepped back, wary of his intentions.
“Take