Captive Romance

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Rebecca woke from a fitful, pain-filled sleep. Brantley's arms were loose around her and she could tell by his steady, even breaths that he was sleeping soundly.

She had no idea how he'd managed to find peace enough to slumber the way he was. As Rebecca's eyes adjusted to the dark and she took in the sight of those welts and bruises marring Brantley's rugged face, guilt and pain and longing all swarmed together in her gut.

Her heart hurt with the knowledge that she was going to have to leave this man. She had known him such a short time and yet it seemed impossible now to imagine a life without him.

Tears gathered in her eyes and Rebecca fought them with all her might. Despite the comfort she felt in Brantley's arms, natures call was tugging her from the bed. Clutching her burning, aching, mangled hand to her chest, Rebecca slid from the bed, surprised when Brantley didn't awaken. The beating his so-called friends had given him, had clearly taken its toll.

Rebecca's legs were weak and wobbling as she opened the door and stepped out into the cabin. Silence as thick and heavy in the air. It was clear they had been left alone.

Once again, the thought of runing flashed through her mind. What if Brantley was wrong? What if there was no guard? No one to stop them?

With Brantley's experience with survival, surely they would stand a chance at getting away. Hope fluttered in her chest at the thought of a chance—even the smallest one—of a future with Brantley. It was worth any risk.

Rebecca stepped out into the early morning air. Mist hung heavy and thick. Her eyes were drawn toward a rise a slight distance from the cabin. Was there a man with a gun watching them?

There was only one way to know for sure.

Rebecca quickly stepped to the outhouse to see to nature. It was a slow and painful process with her bleeding hand.

Nerves and apprehension swirled inside her as she stepped back out into the morning air. If she was wrong and there was a man watching them, would he shoot and kill her? How far would he let her get before he fired a shot?

Gathering every ounce of courage she possessed, which was just barely enough, Rebecca began taking long determined strides away from the cabin. Her heart pounded with more ferocity with each and every step she took.

When would the bullet come? What would it feel like as it tore through her?

Rebecca hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until she'd traveled a good distance from the cabin and no bullet had come. She let out all her air in a rush as a smile, a true, joyous smile, curved her lips.

There was no man—no gun. She and Brantley had a chance!

Rebecca lifted one side of her skirts and was preparing to turn and rush back to Brantley when the crack of a rifle echoed through the peaceful air. The ground at her feet flew up as the bullet tore into it.

Rebecca's heart sank. There was a gun. Another gun shot sounded and her skirts tugged as the bullet ripped through them. Instinct overrode everything else. Rebecca turned and raced back toward the cabin.

She tripped on a rock and scrambled to maintain her footing as yet another bullet struck the ground close to her. With every jar of her body and pound of her heart, the pain in Rebecca's hand gained intensity. Blood dripped through her make-shift bandage.

Another shot blew past her temple and Rebecca was unable to stifle her scream. Her gaze locked on the cabin. Brantley had come bursting from the door and was rushing toward her. Rebecca cried out when his arms suddenly circled around her, lifted her off the ground and his strong carried her back to the safety of the cabin.

"Damn you, you foolish woman," Brantley growled as he panted and sat her on her feet. His eye and hands scanned her body. "Are you hit?"

Tears of pain, fear and frustration alike rolled down her cheeks. "No..No, I'm not hit."

Brantley slammed the cabin door closed and Rebecca frowned when he tossed a fork on the rickety table. Brantley followed her gaze to the utensil and shrugged, "They took the kitchen knives too. I wanted a weapon."

Rebecca's legs were suddenly too weak to support her. She stumbled to a kitchen chair and fell down hard upon it. Brantley was silent as he disappeared into the back room, returning moments later with several clean strips of white sheet.

Dropping to his knees in front of her, Brantley began to unwind the bandage from her hand. Rebecca bit her lip hard and breathed deep through her nose to combat the pain.

"What the hell were you doing out there?" Brantley gently demanded.

"I... I had to be sure," Rebecca replied quietly. "I wanted so badly for you to be wrong."

Heaving out a sigh, Brantley got to his feet. He grabbed a kettle of water and returned to his crouched position in front of her. "Turn away, darlin'. I'm gonna be pulling your bandage off now."

Rebecca quickly did as he bid. She had no interest in seeing the damage Hoff had done. The pain was nearly overwhelming as Brantley cleaned her up with the water and wrapped a fresh bandage around her hand.

Once that task was complete, Brantley rose up and kissed her brow. "You need a doctor."

"I need you," Rebecca whispered.

Brantley shook his head. "I'm no good for you, Rebecca. You'd never be safe with me—not now. You need to go home. You need to be safe."

Rebecca chose not to argue. What could she say? It was all just a dream anyhow. Nothing she wanted for her future could ever be a true possibility.

Brantley sat down in the chair across from her. "Fill the silence, darlin'. Tell me about your family."

***

Brantley listened to Rebecca's tired voice telling stories about her family and life growing up back east. Despite their poverty, it was clear their home had been full of love.

Brantley let himself imagine a life with Rebecca in a home full of love and laughter and passion and peace. It was a life he'd never thought on before she had come into his life—now it was a life he desperately wanted but could never have. He wouldn't risk Rebecca's life to have it.

No matter what he wanted for himself, Brantley wanted her safety more.

Brantley's thoughts were interrupted by the thundering of horse hooves nearing the cabin. His jaw tensed and his fists clenched.

"Brantley?" Rebecca's voice was shaking. "What if he didn't pay?"

Brantley reached out an took her right hand gently. "He paid."

And if he hadn't, and they were about to die, Brantley would bust out of hell and haunt that son of a bitch until he was real good and sorry.