"I—" She was choking on the words, really choking on them. "I—I don't hate all Rebs."

"She ain't your fiancee!" Frank James said.

"She is!" Malachi insisted, his frustration growing. He swung Shannon around, none too gently, and brought her into his arms. "Darlin'!" he exclaimed, and he pulled her close. He stared into her sky-blue eyes, his own on fire.

Her eyes widened; it seemed that at last that she had discovered her own predicament, and realized that her freedom might well hinge on her ability to act.

"Yes! Yes!" She threw her arms around him. Her breasts pressed hard against his chest and her fingers played with the hair at his nape.

And her lips came full and soft and crushing against his.

There was a curious audience before them, and their very lives were hanging in the balance.

And at that instance, it didn't seem to matter.

He locked his arms around her, setting his hands upon the small of her back and bringing the whole of her body hard against his. His lips parted over hers, and in the breath of a second, he found himself the aggressor, heedless of the men watching. He thrust his tongue deep into the sweet crevice of her mouth, feeling the warmth and fever of her reach out and invade him. He held her tighter and tighter, and raped her mouth with the sheer demand of his own. The tension of it seared into the fullness of his body. Then she brought her hands between them, pressing hard against his chest, and he finally lifted his lips from hers, and stared into her wide, startled and glimmering eyes.

Glimmering…with fury, he thought. He only prayed that she had the sense to keep silent until they were away.

If they did get away.

One of the Younger brothers laughed. "Hot damn, but I believe him. That was one of the most sultry kisses I've ever seen. Set me burning for a bit o' lovin', that's for sure."

Shannon's lashes fell over her eyes. Malachi heard her teeth grate together as he swept her around him. "Jesse, she's mine. And I'm taking her."

"You got my go ahead," Jesse said. "Frank?"

Frank shrugged. "The man is still wearing a gray uniform, and he says that the girl is his. Guess it must be so."

There was a sound like a growl from Justin. "Well, captain, I don't say that it's so. The girl tried to kill me. I got a score to settle with her."

"She tried to kill you?" Malachi repeated, playing for time. He didn't doubt one bit that Shannon had tried to kill any of them.

"That's right," Jesse said, sighing. "Why, Justin would be dead right now if Frank's gun hadn't been empty."

Malachi smiled, arching a brow. "What was she doing with Frank's gun?" he asked politely.

Every one of the bushwhackers flushed, except Justin, and he kept staring at Malachi with hatred in his eyes.

"I untied her," Frank James muttered. "I felt sorry for her, gagged and tied. She jumped me."

"She jumped you?"

"Captain, if you know that woman so well, you know that she's a damned hellcat, a bloody little spitfire." He swore again. "She's more dangerous than the whole lot of us."

Malachi lowered his head, adjusting the brim of his hat to hide the smile that teased at his lips. They weren't in the clear yet.

He looked up again, gravely, at Jesse. "Not much harm done, was there? I mean, the gun was empty. Justin looks alive and well and healthy to me."

"You ain't takin' her, Slater," Justin said.

Malachi inhaled deeply. "I am taking her, Justin."

"Maybe she ought to apologize to Justin," Jesse suggested. "Maybe that will smooth things over a bit."

"Oh, yeah," Justin said, tightening his lips, and leaning back with a certain pleasure. "Sure. Let's see this. You get her to apologize, captain."

"Shannon, apologize to the man."

She had been silent for several minutes, a long time for Shannon. She had stood behind him and at his side, quiet and meek. He gripped her fingers, drawing her in front of him. He hissed against her ear. "Shannon! Apologize."

"I will not!" she exploded. "He is a bloody, vicious, sadistic murder—"

Malachi's hand clamped over her mouth. Justin stood in a silent fury. Frank James laughed, and Jesse didn't make a move or say a word at all.

"Your woman don't obey you real well, Captain Slater," Frank observed.

Malachi swept his arm around her, jerking her beneath his chin, laying his fingers taut over her rib cage and squeezing hard. ' 'She's gonna obey me just fine." He lowered his voice, whispering against her earlobe. '"Cause if she doesn't obey me damned fast, I'm going to leave. I'm going to tell Justin to go ahead and enjoy himself to his heart's content—"

"He is a cold-blooded murderer!" Shannon whispered back. He sensed the tears in her voice, but he couldn't afford to care.

"Apologize!" he told her.

She inhaled deeply. He felt the hatred and the fury that swept from her in great waves, and he wondered if he would always be included in that pool of bitter hatred and rage. "I'm sorry that I tried to kill you," she spit out to Justin. She lowered her head. "And I'm sorry that I failed!" she whispered miserably.

Malachi tightened his hold upon her so that she gasped, but as he looked around, he realized, thankfully, that he was the only one who had heard her last words.

He smiled. "All right?"

He didn't want to give them all time to think. "Thanks, boys. I never would have made it against the Red Legs without your help. Be seeing you."

He adjusted his hat and shoved Shannon around, daring to bare his back to the raiders. They wouldn't shoot a Confederate officer in the back.

Even bushwhackers had a certain code of ethics.

He walked several feet, hurrying Shannon ahead of him.

"Slater!"

He stopped, pushing her forward, turning around.

Justin was walking toward him. "Captain Slater, they're letting you take the woman. I'm not."

Malachi stiffened. He stared at Justin. It was a direct challenge, and there was no way out of it.

"No, Malachi!" Shannon cried, racing to him. He shoved her back again, not daring to take his eyes off Justin.

"Then I guess it's between you and me," he said softly.

"That's right, captain. That's what it boils down to."

"Swords or pistols?"

"Draw when you're ready, captain—" Justin began, but he never finished. His eyes suddenly rolled up in his head and he fell to the ground with a curious, silent grace.

Jesse was standing there. He had just clobbered Justin with the butt of a Spencer repeater. He smiled at Malachi.

"I don't know what would have happened, captain, but you've got a powerful reputation as a crack shot. Of course, Justin is pretty damned good himself. One of you would have died. And I'm just sick of the bloodshed, you know. I figure the Yanks killed enough of us that we don't need to run around killin' one another, not now, not when we're all trying to get home for a spell. So you take your little hellcat and you go on, Captain Slater. Head for Mexico, as fast as you can. The best of luck to you, captain."

Malachi turned from the man on the ground to Jesse. He nodded slowly. Then he turned around. Shannon was still standing there, and he grasped her elbow firmly and pulled her along with him. "Come on!" he whispered to her when she seemed to be balking.

Jesse was still watching them. Malachi put his arm around Shannon's shoulder and pulled her close against him. She looked back once and didn't seem to want to protest, not one bit.

He hurried them down the slope to the embankment of the spring, then rushed along the embankment.

Darkness was coming once again. He wanted to sleep…badly. But he wanted to put some mean distance between them and Justin before he paused to sleep.

He didn't need to urge Shannon along. As soon as they had left the raiders behind, she broke away from him and started to run. Her hair streamed behind her, and in the darkening twilight, he heard the soft, sobbing gasps of her breath as she hurried.

Groaning, he ran after her.

She meant to put distance between herself and the raiders, too. She ran so hard and so fast that she was quickly past the spot where he had tethered their horses.

"Shannon!"

He hurried after her. It was almost as if she hadn't heard him. She was probably furious, he thought wearily. She was angry because he had made her apologize. Because he had kissed her.

He had more than kissed her. He had kissed her and touched with an invasion so deep that the intimacy invoked could never be forgotten.

Nor, for her part, he was certain, forgiven.

"Shannon!"

Cursing the pain in his leg, he ran after her with speed. At last he caught up with her. She stumbled and fell, rolling down the grassy slope until she was nearly in the water. Malachi followed, dropping down beside her. Her eyes were huge and luminous and moist, a beautiful, glittering blue, still wet with tears. She stared at the sky unblinkingly while he knelt by her.

"Shannon! Damn it, I'm sorry. You fool! You damned bloody little fool. Didn't you understand? I had to get you out of there. Justin is a murdering sadist, and that's exactly why you don't mess with a man like him." He sighed. "All right, hellcat. Stay angry. Tear me up again whenever you get the chance. But for now, we've got to get on the road. We need to ride—"

"Malachi!"

She shot up suddenly and ran straight into his arms. She laid her cheek against his chest, and he felt the terrible beating of her heart and the shivering that seized the whole of her body. The soft cream mounds of her breasts rose above the pink-flowered white cups of her corset, brushing against the rough material of his wool greatcoat. Her hands seemed frail and delicate where they fell against him.

"Oh, Malachi!"

And she burst into tears.

He put his arms around her and he kissed the top of her head. He held her tight against him.

Hellcat. It was an apt name for her, but his little hellcat had broken. The war had made her build an impenetrable shield around herself. She was strong as steel and tough as nails, and no one, no one commanded Shannon McCahy.

But now…

Her shield had shattered and broken, and he wasn't sure that he could stand up to the soft and delicate beauty beneath it.

"It's all right. It's over. It's—"

"Malachi, thank you. Oh, my God, you came for me. You—you took me from him. Thank you!"

He curved his hand around her cheek, and he smoothed the tears from her face with his thumb. She stared at him, and her eyes were earnest and glorious, her hair a shroud of gold, cloaking her half-bared shoulders and breasts.

He swallowed hard and managed to stand. He reached down for her, lifting her high into his arms. "We have to ride," he told her.

She nodded trustingly. Her head fell against him. His boots sloshed through the stream as he walked toward the horses.

CHAPTER SIX

When she was set on the black gelding, Shannon seemed well and eager to ride. Malachi was glad of it. He didn't know how long he could stay awake himself, but as long as they could, they would ride.

They crossed the stream, then followed along it. No words passed between them. When Malachi looked back in the darkness, he saw her slumped low in the saddle, but she didn't complain or suggest they stop. He had given her his greatcoat; her shirt was nothing but tatters now, and he didn't want to take the time to dig through his belongings for a new shirt for her. He wanted to move.

It was too late to steal Kristin back before the Red Legs left Missouri. They would have to travel deep into Kansas. The only benefit to that situation was that it was unlikely Justin would follow him into Kansas. There might be a bounty out on Malachi, but at least he had been regular army, not a bushwhacker. A man recognized as a bushwhacker in Kansas might not stand much of a chance.

"Shannon?"

"Yes," she called softly.

"You all right back there?"

"Yes."

"We'll go another hour."

"Fine."

They plodded onward. Where the stream forked, he took the westward trail, telling her to walk the black gelding behind his bay mare in the rocky, shallow water. That way there would be no footprints for the bushwhackers to follow.

With the first light, he reined in. There was a perfect little copse beside the water. It was sheltered by magnificent oaks, and grass grew there like a blanket. On one side of the stream, the water deepened in a small natural pond. It was just like the swimming hole back home where he and Cole and Jamie had roughhoused after working hours, and where the neighborhood girls had come to watch and giggle from the trees, and where, sometimes, the young ladies had boldly determined to join them. He smiled, thinking about those days. They had been so long ago.