Proof of Innocence: Yesterday's Lies / Devil's Gambit

“You have.”

Trask took off his hat and studied the brim. “You’re not about to let down a bit, are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that you’re going to keep the old barriers up, all the time.”

“You’re the one intent on digging up the past; I’m just trying to keep it in perspective.”

“And have you?”

Tory’s muscles went tense. She took a swallow of her tea before answering. “I’m trying, Trask. I’m trying damned hard. Everyone I know thinks I’m crazy to go along with your plans, and I’m inclined to believe them. But I thought that if you came up here, poked around, did your duty, so to speak, that you’d drop it and the fires of gossip in Sinclair would die before another scandal engulfed us. I knew that you wouldn’t just let go of the idea that another person was involved in your brother’s death, and I also realized that if I fought you, it would just drag everything out much longer and fuel the gossip fires.”

He set his food aside and wrapped his arms around his knees while studying the intriguing angles of Tory’s face. “And that’s the only reason you came up here with me?”

“No.”

He lifted his thick brows, encouraging her to continue.

After setting her now empty plate on the top of the basket, she leaned back on her arms and stared at the countryside far below the ridge. “If by the slim chance you did find something, some clue to what had happened, I thought it might prove Dad’s innocence.”

“Oh, Tory...” He leaned toward her and touched her cheek. “I know you don’t believe this, but if there were a way to show that Calvin had no part in the Quarter Horse swindle, or Jason’s death, don’t you think I’d be the first to do it?”

He sounded sincere and his deep blue eyes seemed to look through hers to search for her soul. God, but she wanted to believe him and trust in him again. He had been everything to her and the hand on her cheek was warm and encouraging. It conjured vivid images from a long-ago love. She had trouble finding her voice. The wind rustled restlessly through the branches overhead and Tory couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything but the feel of Trask’s fingers against her skin. “I...I don’t know.” She finished the cold tea and set her glass on the ground.

“My intention wasn’t to crucify your father, only to tell my side of the story, in order that Jason’s murderers were found out and brought to justice. If Calvin wasn’t guilty, he should have stood up for himself—”

“But he didn’t; and your testimony sent him to prison.” She swallowed back the hot lump forming in her throat.

“Would it help you to know that I never, never meant to hurt you?” he asked, lowering his head and tenderly brushing his lips over hers.

“Trask—” The protest forming in her throat was cut off when his arms wrapped around her and he drew her close, the length of his body pressed urgently to hers.

“I’ve missed you, Tory,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotions he would rather have denied.

“And I’ve missed you.”

“But you still can’t forgive me?”

She shook her head and for a moment she thought he would release her. He hesitated and stared into her pain-filled eyes. “Oh, hell,” he muttered, once again pulling her close to him and claiming her lips with his.

His hands were warm against her back and through the fabric of her blouse she felt the heat of his fingers against her skin. Her legs were entwined with his and his hips pressed urgently to hers, pinning her to the ground as one of his hands moved slowly upward and removed the leather throng restraining her hair.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered against her ear as he twined his fingers in her hair, watching the auburn-tinged curls frame her face in wild disarray. Slumberous green eyes rimmed with dark curling lashes stared up at him longingly. “I want you, Tory,” he said, his breathing ragged, his heart thudding in his chest and the heat in his loins destroying rational thought. “I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

“I don’t know that wanting is enough, Trask,” she whispered, thinking about the agonizing hours she had spent in the past five years wanting a man she couldn’t have; wishing for a father who was already dead; desiring the life she had once had before fate had so cruelly ripped it from her.

“Just let me love you, Tory.”

The words had barely been said when she felt Trask stiffen. He turned to look over his shoulder just as a shot from a rifle cracked through the still mountain air.

Tory’s blood ran cold with fear and a scream died in her throat. Trask flattened himself over her body, protectively covering her as the shot ricocheted through the trees and echoed down the hillside. Dear God, what was happening? The sound was so close!

With the speed and agility of an athlete, Trask scrambled to his feet while jerking her arm and pulling her to relative safety behind a large boulder.

Tory’s heart was hammering erratically as adrenaline pumped through her veins. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and discovered that her hands were shaking. “Oh, God,” she whispered in desperate prayer.

“Are you okay?” His eyes scanned her face and body.

Her voice failed her but she managed to nod her head.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes!”

“Who knows we’re here?” Trask demanded, his hushed voice harsh, his eyes darting through the trees.

“No one—I didn’t tell anyone,” she replied.

“Well someone sure as hell knows we were here!”

“But—”

“Shh!” He clamped his hand over her mouth and raised a finger to his lips as he strained to hear any noise that might indicate the whereabouts of the assailant. Far down the hillside, the sound of hurried footsteps crackled through the brush. Tory’s skin prickled with fear and her eyes widened until she realized that the footsteps were retreating, the sound of snapping branches becoming more distant.

Trask moved away from the protection of the boulder as if intent on tracking the assailant.

“Trask! No!” Tory screamed, clutching at his arm. “Leave it alone.”

He tried to shake her off and turned to face her. “Someone’s taking shots at us and I’m going to find out who.”

“No wait! He has a rifle, you...you can’t go. You don’t have any way of protecting yourself!”

“Tory!”

“Damn it, Trask, I’m scared!” she admitted, holding his gaze as well as his arm. Her lower lip trembled and she had to fight the tears forming in her eyes. “You can’t die, too,” she whispered. “I won’t let you!” He stood frozen to the spot. “I love you, Trask,” Tory admitted. “Please, please, don’t get yourself killed. It’s not worth it. Nothing is!” Tory felt near hysteria as she clutched at his arm.

Trask stood stock still, Tory’s words restraining him. “You love me?” he repeated.

“Yes!” Her voice broke. “Oh, God, yes.”

“But you’ve been denying—”

“I know, I know. It’s just that I don’t want to love you.”

“Because of the past.”

“Yes.”