California Caress by Rebecca Sinclair

Author:Rebecca Sinclair
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-06-20T23:00:00+00:00

Hope sat erect in the saddle, willing her tired, aching body not to slump against the scrawny chest at her back. Try though she did to ignore him, she could feel the man there. Her nostrils stung with the odor of his perspiration and her ears echoed with each rush of his breath. His body moving in rhythm with the horse’s gentle canter was as real as the black drizzle that fell from the midnight sky.

Her once clean clothes were now streaked with dirt from her feeble struggle at the riverbank. The rain plastered the shirt to her body. The shoulder seam had ripped during the scuffle and was now torn and frayed, the delicate skin beneath exposed to the cold, damp air. Three buttons at the collar had popped free, leaving the rapid pulse at her throat equally as bare.

“Almost there, sweet thing.”

The man’s voice from over her shoulder made Hope stiffen. She hadn’t been able to get a good look at him at the river, and since then she hadn’t dared to try. Still, there was something in his tone that struck a familiar chord within her. Something in his condescending manner made her think the man hadn’t stumbled upon her by accident.

“Where’s ‘there’?” she asked suddenly, her accent thickening as her tongue tripped over the question.

The man chuckled, and the mirthless sound curled up her spine. “You’ll see soon enough.”

The rain started to fall faster, causing the man to kick the horse to a quicker pace. Hope was forced to grip the slippery saddle horn with both knees and dig her knees deep in the horse’s side to keep her from sliding off. Rain trickled down her cheeks in cool rivulets, slipping down her throat and pooling in the hollow between her breasts. She shivered, lowering her head to the moist air that whipped her cheeks as she leaned closer to the horse’s back.

Her backside brushed against the man’s thigh, and she immediately sat forward again. The quiver of revulsion that coursed through her was as tangible as the rain soaking through her clothes.

In the distance, the shape of a small, deserted way station could be distinguished from the shadows. She squinted in that direction, her spirits momentarily soaring at the thought of a clean floor and a warm fire.

No lights glowed in the shack’s windows. The darkness of the structure made it appear more than a little foreboding. It seemed to rise up out of the night from nowhere.

The man guided the horse beneath the dilapidated lean-to propped against the side wall. Close up, the shack appeared to be in an even greater state of disrepair.

At the man’s nudge, Hope dismounted. Her feet slipped in the mud, and she had to quickly grab for the saddle horn to avoid falling into the mulch. All thoughts of running for freedom were swiftly cast aside as the man dropped with a thump at her side.

As at the river, the barrel of his gun was pressed hard against her waist.

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