Tarnished Angel by Elaine Barbieri Page B

that I understand the circumstances, I would feel much safer, too, Charles. I would be happy to have you accompany me, even though I intend to speak to John Henry Thomas in any case."
        "I'm sure you do."
        Tucking her arm more firmly under his, Charles urged Devina along at his side. Leaning toward her confidentially, he whispered in a tone meant for her ears alone, "Actually, I disagree with Bart, Devina. I rather like your ensemble. I don't think you look like a"
        "Charles!"
        Realizing her cheeks were just a shade short of the color of her gown, Devina avoided Charles's amused smile and maintained a wise silence.
        A moment later she entered the Wells Fargo office and approached the fellow at the desk.
        "I would like to speak to John Henry Thomas."
        Devina accepted Charles's proferred arm once more as she emerged from the Wells Fargo office a short time later. Although she was dissatisfied with the outcome of her errand, she made no comment as he guided her across the busy intersection of Fifth and Allen. When she finally spoke, her voice was as dejected as her thoughts: "Well, that was a complete waste of time."
        "I'm sorry, Devina, but it's obvious John Henry hasn't the slightest idea who the men were who robbed the stage."
        "I was so sure he would be able to remember something about the man that might furnish a clue to his identity."
        His expression devoid of its previous mirth, Charles directed a strangely intense gaze into her eyes. "What about you, Devina?"
        "Me?"
        "You're the one who was closest to the fellow. You gave the marshal a description, but was there anything special about the man that might set him apart or something that might ring a bell in someone's mind? What do you remember most about him?"
        Charles's dark eyes were searching her face, and Devina felt herself pale. What did she remember about the man? She remembered everything, the husky timbre of his voice and the threat it contained, the relentless strength of his arm as it crushed her ribs, the hard wall of his chest against her back, the sweet scent of his breath against her cheek. But most of all she remembered his eyes, their darkly mysterious, penetrating quality. They were menacing, merciless, impossible to dismiss from her mind.
         You wouldn't be worth the trouble …

    "Devina?"
        Snapping back to the present, Devina attempted a smile.
        "What do I remember most? He was filthy. He smelled of whiskey and the trail. His clothes were old and baggy, giving the impression that the fellow was nothing but a drunkard and a derelict. I later realized he was neither of those things, Charles. It was all an act, but his disguise was too complete for me to tell you what he actually looked like. He had a full straggly beard and long hair that curled inside the collar of his shirt. He wore his hat pulled down over his face so I had no opportunity to scrutinize his features, even if I'd been inclined to do so. All I can tell you is what I've told others before, that he was tall and that his hair and eyes were black. And he was strong, Charles, very strong. His arm was like steel when he held me prisoner, and he lifted me out of the coach without the slightest effort. And he was ruthless. I… I have no doubt he would have killed me if I had challenged him."
        A shudder moved down her spine as Devina uttered last words. She immediately regretted having allowed her fear to regain control when she saw concern replace the intensity in Charles Carter's eyes. Wondering how she could ever have thought Charle's eyes similar to those that haunted her, she gave a short laugh. "I'm not much more help than John Henry, am I?"
        Smiling without comment, Charles wisely changed the subject. "Well, it seems you've seen the worst of Tombstone since your arrival, Devina. I'd say it's time for you to be introduced to the more civilized