Free The Outlaw and the Lady by Lorraine Heath

blood, and probably ruined beyond repair. Her eyes were red and swollen from lack of sleep. The corners of her mouth remained turned down. How he would like to seeher smile, hear her laughter, have her whisper his name in a moment of passion.
    The intensity with which he longed to make her his was ludicrous. His mind knew it, but his body always listened to his heart, and his heart had never felt this incredible yearning to possess a woman.
    She had every reason to complain, to protest. Yet she remained stoic and brave. She had not shed a single tear, when most women would have succumbed to a fit of hysterics.
    He did not think it was her blindness that made her different. There were moments, many moments, when he forgot that she could not see him. Her eyes had a way of resting on him until he felt that perhaps she could see him. Not the outer shell, but the inner core. The part of him that was terrified of the hangman’s noose, of kicking in the wind, as his father and brother had done, of fighting desperately to draw in air that would not come—
    “What’s wrong?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts.
    “Nothing.”
    “You grew tense.”
    He wanted to turn her around, wind her arms around his neck, and bury his face within the silky curve of her throat. “Bad memories.”
    “Were you thinking of the man you murdered?”
    “No.” He removed his hand from her waist and bunched his fingers around her hair. Evenwith the tangles, it was incredibly soft. It had been too long since there had been any softness in his life. She grew so still that he was not even certain that she breathed.
    “What are you doing?” she whispered in a voice that carried an undercurrent of fear.
    In the beginning, he had wanted her to be wary of him so he could manipulate her. Now, he desperately longed for her trust. He fisted his hand more tightly around her red strands. They reminded him of molten flames. He wondered if they could burn away his doubts, his disappointments.
    “You have such beautiful hair. Why is no man waiting for you in Fortune?”
    “That’s none of your business.”
    “You tell me that you are none of my business—”
    “Because I’m not, and keeping me will not change anything. You’re just going to make the situation worse for yourself,” she snapped.
    Ah, her anger excited him. She had so much passion quivering along her body. He wanted to bury himself in her and forget his past, his future. For just a short time, he wanted to feel normal, to recapture the dreams he’d once possessed of having a woman who loved him, children who adored him, and years before him that consisted of nothing more than days of laborious work and nights of hard loving.
    “There is nothing worse than knowing that a hangman’s noose awaits you, señorita . You havenothing with which to threaten me, nothing that will make me release you—until I decide it is time.”
    “You know so little. The worst thing in the world is losing someone you love.”
    Within her hair, his fingers spasmed as he recognized the resounding emotion in her voice. Love, deep and binding. “You lost someone you loved?” he asked cautiously.
    “Not loved. Love . I still love him. I’ll always love him.”
    The reason no man waited for her. Her heart was closed. Unexpected envy, hot and blinding, toward the man she loved seared his soul while disappointment reeled through him. He unclenched his fingers and took his hand away from her hair.
    He was a fool. What had he been thinking? Where she was concerned, he seemed to have misplaced his common sense. Even if her heart belonged to no one, he could still never possess her. He had nothing to offer any woman except the pain of a heart shattered while she was still young because the path he now trod guaranteed him a short life.
    “Tell me of this man.”
    “He’s none of your business.”
    Neither was she, but that knowledge didn’t stop his yearning to know everything about her. “Please. I am