Whirlwind Cowboy. Debra Cowan
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her to lose her memory. He had no idea if it was permanent or not. He’d never even heard of such a thing, but he did believe her.
Which meant she couldn’t help him. He would have to find another way to get to Cosgrove.
He believed her. Finally.
Deborah was surprised at the measure of relief that brought. For the first time since regaining consciousness in Monaco, she didn’t feel completely alone.
Still, she really needed to remember. Not for Bram, but for herself.
Hours later, instead of sleeping, Deborah wondered how entangled she was with this Cosgrove character.
The wind whined in the background. Had she participated in that bank robbery in any way? Were there other illegal activities she might have been party to? Right now she had no answers.
Though all the excitement and fear of the day had left her exhausted, she had trouble falling asleep. Maybe because of Bram’s accusations or maybe just because of the man himself. For someone she couldn’t remember, he sure had an effect on her. He made her nervous. And giddy. When she tried to remember him, an unsettling heat spread through her.
Thinking about it, about him, made her head hurt and she’d had enough of that.
The wind buffeted the cabin, hurling dirt and pebbles against the walls like hail. She shook out the sheet before pulling it over her head and closing her eyes. She tried to slow her thoughts so she could get some rest.
After a short time, a dark mist engulfed her and she thought she felt someone touch her. A warm heavy hand, a glimmer of an image and then—
“Deborah!”
She jerked awake to find Bram shaking her. He sat on the side of the bed, concern in his eyes.
Watery daylight flowed into the windowless room through the open bedroom door. A fine layer of dust covered the floor and the bedclothes. One of Bram’s big hands rested on her left shoulder, setting off a flutter of sensation in her belly. Was his the touch she’d felt in her sleep?
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You’re crying.”
She sat up, her movement stirring the dirt on the sheet. Her mind scrambled through a tangle of emotions—terror, loss, unease. Why was she crying?
“Did you have a bad dream?”
Until now, she hadn’t realized. “Yes.”
With trembling hands she pushed her hair out of her face. A light sweat had her chemise clinging to her and she gulped in a big draft of dusty air. Oh, dear. She felt as if she were drowning, being pulled down into a seething mass of uncertainty.
A powerful sense of horror pressed in on her. The same horror she had felt when she’d woken behind that building. Swept by a wave of fear and panic, she reached out. One hand gripped Bram’s strong forearm. Her head dropped forward, brushing his wide hard chest.
He didn’t push her away or pull her close. He didn’t move at all. A sob jerked out of her. She wanted to be folded into those big arms. Just the strength in his body, the thud of his heart, calmed the panic tearing loose inside her.
How ridiculous. The man couldn’t abide her. Still, Deborah couldn’t make herself move away from him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.”
He sat stiffly, his voice hoarse. “What was the dream?”
She tried to recall it. A suffocating heaviness hovered on the edge of her mind, making her shudder.
“Deborah?” he asked quietly.
“I’m not sure. There was nothing, then … I was thrown into some kind of horror.” She stared down at her shaking hands. “It was awful, terrifying. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. There was a feeling of violence, something coming closer to me, then it was gone before I could tell what or who it was. I can’t make any sense of it.”
She shuddered, her voice muffled against his warm muscular torso. One of his big hands closed around her waist, steadying her. With his other hand, he lifted the far corner of the sheet and wiped her eyes.
She realized she was still crying.
“You okay?” The gruff worry in his voice made her want to snuggle into him. He moved his hand up her back, warm, reassuring, and cupped her shoulder.
Pain flared, causing her to flinch.
Bram jerked his hand away. “What is it? Are you hurt?”
She nodded, turning her head to look at her shoulder. “It’s sore.”
Before she could blink or check for herself, he nudged her hair aside and lifted her chemise strap. He cursed. “There’s a bruise here. A big bruise.”
She craned her neck to see. The mark was wide and bluish-black.
Bram studied it, too. “This must’ve happened at the same time as your other injuries.”
She looked up, startled to see how cold and hard his eyes were. “Do you think I fell? Or maybe was struck?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw as he shifted his gaze to the cut on her temple. “Hard to know for sure.”
His breath drifted warmly against her skin. Just his presence made her feel less shaky. She was overwhelmed with the urge to climb into his lap and huddle into his strength. It unsettled her how much she wanted that. Her grip tightened on the sheet.
The dark stubble along his jaw softened the rough angles of his face. She found herself staring at his mouth, trying to recall how it felt. Despite not remembering, she had no doubt they had kissed.
She became aware then that he was also staring at her mouth.
Before she realized what she was doing, she lifted her hand to his face and lightly touched the raw scar on his cheek.
Their gazes locked and in his she saw heat, hunger, then nothing. A chill crept over his face.
He gently but firmly removed her hand, then surged to his feet and moved to the door.
She tried to dismiss the sudden knifing sense of aloneness. He shouldn’t be the only one pulling away. She had rejected the man’s marriage proposal, after all.
“Do you think it was Cosgrove who hurt me? Just as he did you?”
“Most likely.” Bram’s gaze flicked to her face, then to her bruised shoulder. “I came in to let you know we can leave. The storm is over.”
The noise outside had stopped, she realized. “So, you’re taking me home?”
“Unless you don’t want to go.”
“Where else would I go?” She prayed her family wasn’t as angry at her as he was. “Do you think my family will welcome me back? If I hurt them as badly as I hurt you, they may never want to see me again.”
“They’ll be glad to see you.”
She tangled her fingers in the sheet she still held to her chest. “How far is my house?”
“Less than an hour’s ride from here.”
She was so close, yet she’d had no idea. She brushed the grit off her hands. “Can you tell me something about my family? So I won’t feel as if I’m meeting complete strangers.”
He hesitated, plainly reluctant to answer, but finally said, “You, your ma and sisters moved to Whirlwind to be near your brother, Jericho.”
Deborah nodded. “Why does my brother live here? Where did we move from?”
“You moved from Uvalde. Your brother came here tracking some outlaws and stayed because he fell in love and married a woman in
Whirlwind.”
“What