Though he stood mostly in shadow, Amanda knew exactly where his gaze rested. On the upstairs window. On his sister.
Amanda lifted her skirt and took a few steps toward him, not enough to put them into contact, but enough so she could see his expression. Instantly, she wished she hadn't.
She didn't mean to gasp, she just couldn't help it. Never had she seen such naked torment on a man's face before. She hadn't expected to see it now. Not on Jake.
The skin covering his cheeks was pale and tight, emphasizing the harshly carved bones beneath. The muscle there throbbed. His brow was wrinkled in a brooding scowl, his sooty lashes lowered to hood his gaze in a way that looked almost self-protective.
Amanda didn't realize she was going to reach out and cup his cheek in her palm until she'd already done it. His flesh felt hot and smooth beneath her fingertips. Damp with melted snow. Gentle tremors played in the corded tendons beneath his skin.
Jake's fingers manacled her wrist, thrusting her touch aside. His gaze was still trained on the window. It was now empty; Gail had moved away. Jake closed his eyes and allowed himself one painful second of regret. Then he forced the emotion aside and let his gaze slide slowly over the woman who had, he realized suddenly, just offered him comfort.
It stunned Jake that Amanda Lennox would do that. No white person had ever offered him such a gift, and he wasn't sure how to turn the gesture away. He only knew that he must. He couldn't accept her sympathy, couldn't open himself up to her compassion. She'd weakened him too much already. If he let himself feel any more for this woman than he already did, he'd never get her out of his blood, never be whole again.
Jake had a sinking feeling it was already too late for that. Everything about Amanda had burrowed deeply inside of him. Even when he was angry with her, there was something about her soft words, her soft body, that touched a chord in him. She wasn't going to be easy to forget. She'd drifted into his life like a petal-soft breeze, and in so doing she'd changed a part of him. He didn't know what part, or how she'd managed to change it when no one before her had, he only knew that she'd done it, that...
Damn, but it was frightening to think a woman—a white woman—this white woman—could hold that much power over him! He shuddered to think of what would happen if she ever guessed how much control she had over his life. Over his heart.
It was something he swore to God she would never know.
"I'm sorry, Jake," Amanda said softly, soothingly. "I know you—"
"No, dammit, you don't," he snapped, cutting her short. He angled his head, bringing their faces so closely together the steam of their breath mingled. His face was tight with anger, but Amanda didn't know if the anger was directed at her or at himself. Maybe a little of both? "Don't kid yourself, Miss Lennox. You don't know me. If you did, you'd know how much I hate a liar."
She shifted guiltily. "I haven't lied to you."
One inky brow slanted menacingly high. "Haven't you?"
"No. Well, only..." She sucked in a quick breath, and wished he wasn't staring at her as though he wanted to strangle her on the spot. "Only when it was absolutely necessary."
"White lies, in other words," he growled irritably.
The meaning was double-edged. They both knew it, though neither acknowledged it.
"Jake," Amanda began. Fingers came out of nowhere, coiled threateningly around her throat, and stifled the words on her tongue. His flesh felt ice-cold against her own fear-warmed skin, but that wasn't the reason she shivered so violently.
His grip wasn't tight enough to cut off her air supply, but it was firm enough to threaten it. Her heart raced as their gazes met and warred. Had she ever seen as much anger and hatred as she saw in the steely glare that met hers? God, she didn't think so. And she hoped never to see it in a man's eyes—in Jake Chandler's eyes—again.
"Don't say it, Miss Lennox. Do not say it. I'm on the edge right now as it is. You open that hot little mouth of yours to lie to me one more time, and I won't be held responsible for what I do to you. Is that understood?"
He didn't wait for her answer, but instead wrenched his hand from her throat as though he couldn't stand the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips a second longer than was necessary.
Jake sent her one searing glare, then spun on his heel. With his normal catlike silence he stalked to the far end of the cabin and disappeared around the corner, leaving it up to her whether or not to follow. Amanda had no doubt that if she didn't follow him to the barn he would go without her. If it weren't for Roger, she would have considered letting him do exactly that.
She hesitated, glancing one last time at the window where Gail Chandler had been standing. The light had been extinguished. The square wooden frame was now as dark and empty as her insides. Amanda sighed, then hoisted her skirt and cloak and hurried after Jake.
Chapter 16
In three days of hard riding they passed through only two towns. By the time they reached the second, Amanda's nerves were raw.
Jake wasn't speaking to her. While he provided dinner—and shelter, when the weather turned harsh—he performed the services in stone-faced silence. He hadn't said a word since they'd left Gail and Little Bear's cabin. The chores he wanted her to execute—like lighting the fire, or gathering wood—were conveyed with his eyes, never his tongue.
He hadn't touched her.
More than once, as they sat at night with a crackling fire blazing like a battlefield between them, Amanda had caught Jake's gaze on her; his eyes were slitted, hooding the emotions playing in their silvery depths.
Nothing hid his expression. With the orange glow of flames on his face it was easy to see and read his contempt. Not so easily seen was who that disgust was aimed at. At times, Amanda thought it was directed at her. At other times, it seemed to be aimed more at himself. Either way, his silent animosity erected an impenetrable wall between them, one Amanda had no idea how to breech.
It had become a habit for them to sleep on opposite sides of the camp, their bedrolls as far away from each other as they could get. Jake seemed to enjoy the distance. Amanda hated it.