Free RenegadeHeart by Madeline Baker Page A
Authors: Madeline Baker
and a woman. Clint would be strong and tender, pleased
with her inexperience, proud that she had saved herself for her husband…
She shook her head and the idyllic images faded. She had
ruined all that now, ruined any chance she might have had for a life with a
decent man. How could she have given herself to Tyree? How could she have let
him make love to her out in the open like some kind of primitive savage? Shame
flooded her cheeks with color. She was ruined now, soiled. Moments before, the
loss of her virginity had seemed a small price to pay for the security and
pleasure of Tyree’s touch. Now, as harsh reality set in, she realized the cost.
No respectable man would want her now. Damaged goods, they would say, and turn
away in disgust.
Abruptly, she burst into tears. Tyree drew a long breath and
blew it out slowly. He had wanted to make love to Rachel ever since the day he
had first seen her bending over him, her vibrant blue eyes filled with concern,
and he was a man who generally got what he wanted, one way or another.
Nonetheless, he was aware of a sudden wave of remorse for what he had done. No
matter that she had practically asked for it, no matter that she had been
scared and in need of comfort. Rachel Halloran was a nice girl, much too nice
for the likes of a drifting gunhawk like Logan Tyree. He had not bedded a
decent woman since he left the lodges of the Mescalero. He had taken his
pleasure in cheap cribs and cantinas, slaking his carnal desires with whores
who didn’t need sweet words and gentle wooing to satisfy a man’s hunger. Rachel
was not a harlot to be used and forgotten, no street girl to be paid a few
dollars and cast aside.
He slid a glance in her direction, wanting to apologize, to
say something that would ease the pain in her heart, but words would not come.
If only she had not put her arms around him. If only she had not kissed him
back. He might have been able to let her go but for that. And yet, he should
have held back anyway. Difficult as it would have been, he should have stopped.
Cursing softly, he stood up and pulled on his pants. The
Indians had taken Rachel’s mare, he noted with a shake of his head. But better
the horse than the woman.
Rachel sat up as her tears subsided. Reaching for her
pantalets, she drew them on, then stood up, drawing her skirts down over her
thighs, brushing the dust from her dress. The sun had gone down and the
darkening sky was stained with brilliant slashes of crimson, like the faint
smears of blood that stained her thighs.
She flinched as Tyree laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t
touch me,” she said. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”
Tyree cocked an eyebrow at her, surprised by the venom in
her voice.
“You cad!” she hissed. “I never want to see you again.”
“Now just a damn minute,” Tyree growled angrily. “You wanted
it as much as I did.”
“That’s a lie!” Rachel cried, her cheeks flooding with
color. “It was all your fault. You knew I’d never had a man before. You took
advantage of me.”
Tyree swore under his breath. “I took advantage of you? I
think you might have that just a little bit backwards.”
“I do not!” She stamped her foot, hating him because he was
right and she was wrong. But she simply couldn’t admit she had wanted him. It
was so much easier to blame him than admit the truth.
“Like hell. You were hotter than a July firecracker and now
you’re too damn gutless to admit it.”
“I hate you.” She spoke the words through clenched teeth,
meaning them. And then all the anger went out of her as she thought of going
home again, of facing the people she knew and loved.
Lowering her eyes, she said, “Promise me you won’t tell my
father about this. Not my father, or anyone else.”
“You mean Wesley, I guess,” Tyree muttered irritably.
“I mean anyone!” Rachel snapped crossly. But she did mean
Clint. What would he think of her if he found out what she had done, and with
whom?
with her inexperience, proud that she had saved herself for her husband…
She shook her head and the idyllic images faded. She had
ruined all that now, ruined any chance she might have had for a life with a
decent man. How could she have given herself to Tyree? How could she have let
him make love to her out in the open like some kind of primitive savage? Shame
flooded her cheeks with color. She was ruined now, soiled. Moments before, the
loss of her virginity had seemed a small price to pay for the security and
pleasure of Tyree’s touch. Now, as harsh reality set in, she realized the cost.
No respectable man would want her now. Damaged goods, they would say, and turn
away in disgust.
Abruptly, she burst into tears. Tyree drew a long breath and
blew it out slowly. He had wanted to make love to Rachel ever since the day he
had first seen her bending over him, her vibrant blue eyes filled with concern,
and he was a man who generally got what he wanted, one way or another.
Nonetheless, he was aware of a sudden wave of remorse for what he had done. No
matter that she had practically asked for it, no matter that she had been
scared and in need of comfort. Rachel Halloran was a nice girl, much too nice
for the likes of a drifting gunhawk like Logan Tyree. He had not bedded a
decent woman since he left the lodges of the Mescalero. He had taken his
pleasure in cheap cribs and cantinas, slaking his carnal desires with whores
who didn’t need sweet words and gentle wooing to satisfy a man’s hunger. Rachel
was not a harlot to be used and forgotten, no street girl to be paid a few
dollars and cast aside.
He slid a glance in her direction, wanting to apologize, to
say something that would ease the pain in her heart, but words would not come.
If only she had not put her arms around him. If only she had not kissed him
back. He might have been able to let her go but for that. And yet, he should
have held back anyway. Difficult as it would have been, he should have stopped.
Cursing softly, he stood up and pulled on his pants. The
Indians had taken Rachel’s mare, he noted with a shake of his head. But better
the horse than the woman.
Rachel sat up as her tears subsided. Reaching for her
pantalets, she drew them on, then stood up, drawing her skirts down over her
thighs, brushing the dust from her dress. The sun had gone down and the
darkening sky was stained with brilliant slashes of crimson, like the faint
smears of blood that stained her thighs.
She flinched as Tyree laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t
touch me,” she said. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”
Tyree cocked an eyebrow at her, surprised by the venom in
her voice.
“You cad!” she hissed. “I never want to see you again.”
“Now just a damn minute,” Tyree growled angrily. “You wanted
it as much as I did.”
“That’s a lie!” Rachel cried, her cheeks flooding with
color. “It was all your fault. You knew I’d never had a man before. You took
advantage of me.”
Tyree swore under his breath. “I took advantage of you? I
think you might have that just a little bit backwards.”
“I do not!” She stamped her foot, hating him because he was
right and she was wrong. But she simply couldn’t admit she had wanted him. It
was so much easier to blame him than admit the truth.
“Like hell. You were hotter than a July firecracker and now
you’re too damn gutless to admit it.”
“I hate you.” She spoke the words through clenched teeth,
meaning them. And then all the anger went out of her as she thought of going
home again, of facing the people she knew and loved.
Lowering her eyes, she said, “Promise me you won’t tell my
father about this. Not my father, or anyone else.”
“You mean Wesley, I guess,” Tyree muttered irritably.
“I mean anyone!” Rachel snapped crossly. But she did mean
Clint. What would he think of her if he found out what she had done, and with
whom?