Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 2

Two

Z ach left the woman bundled up in blankets, tucked in a semi-sheltered corner of the shattered stage. But the last time he’d looked over his shoulder, she’d been shaking uncontrollably, both from the force of the icy wind and the shock of her injury.

He doubted she’d make it through the night.

Although he knew he had to put as much distance as possible between himself and the wreck, thoughts of the woman haunted him as he plunged through the increasingly violent storm. He told himself he couldn’t afford to care. The wreck was a second chance he didn’t deserve, and he’d be a fool to let the opportunity pass by for the sake of a woman he didn’t even know.

Besides, there was no certainty he’d survive the storm.

The wind had turned into a howling banshee, whipping through the canyon without mercy. The stinging snow blinded him, and the adrenaline that had carried him through the last hour faded as the cold wrapped him in its icy fingers.

It took him forever to stumble a few hundred yards. Exhausted, he leaned against the canyon wall, finding a narrow crevice that offered some protection from the unrelenting wind. Turning to put his back to the weather, he realized it wasn’t a crack but the entrance to a cave.

The crevice widened about six feet in, and he found himself in a large chamber. Pulling out a box of matches he’d rescued from the wreck, he lit one and stared at his surroundings. A smaller tunnel at the back led to another chamber, but he found no signs of animal occupation. The cave was empty and dry with a soft, sandy floor—a perfect place to wait out the storm. If he could find wood for a fire, the cave would be more comfortable than the prison cell where he’d spent the last five years.

Lady Luck had smiled at him more during the last two hours than she had in his entire life.

But how could he stay here, snug and warm, while the woman who’d freed him from those damned shackles froze to death less than a mile away?

“ Damn .” He slammed his fist against the rough stone wall, knowing the answer. He had to go back for her.

Too many deaths already haunted him. He couldn’t buy his freedom at further cost to his soul. He’d bring her back here, then leave once the storm broke.

Still cursing beneath his breath, he turned up his collar and plunged back out into the cold.

B ethany drifted in and out of sleep, each time caring less and less if she ever woke again. Numb and lethargic, she could no longer feel the cold or pain. Her dreams were odd and ephemeral, filled with images of a dark, handsome man who carried her in his arms and begged her not to leave him.

Z ach stumbled into the main room of the cave, his shoulders, back, and arms aching from his heavy burden. He’d feared he would be unable to find the entrance a second time, so he thanked God for the first time in longer than he cared to remember for granting him this miracle. Sinking to his knees, he lowered the girl to the ground.

She looked like a snow angel, her golden hair white with ice, her lovely face deathly pale. Leaning over her, he placed his fingertips above her heart and tried to discern whether she still breathed.

Damn, he hoped he hadn’t let too much time pass before he’d gone back for her. It was full dark now, so he figured at least four hours had passed since the wreck. Four hours she’d spent bleeding in the cold.

“Wake up,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “Don’t you dare die on me, darlin’.”

He shook her, and her lips parted on a soft moan. Relieved, he sank back on his heels and ran a trembling hand across his scruffy jaw. Exhaustion made his limbs heavy and weak, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down beside the girl and sleep.

Luckily, he was still lucid enough to realize the danger they faced. He fumbled with the makeshift pack he’d made from the blankets and drew a few splintered pieces of wood from the coach and the rest of the sack lunches he’d gathered.

It seemed to take forever to start a fire, and once he did, he had to force himself to move away from it. He shed his wet, partially frozen clothes and replaced them with a scratchy wool blanket.

The other three blankets served to form a pallet beside the fire. Then he turned back to the girl, glad for the chill when he considered the task ahead.

She remained passive as a rag doll while he stripped away her wet, bloody clothes and left her clad in nothing but the serviceable white chemise she wore beneath them. The bandage on her leg was crimson, soaked through, and he carefully peeled it away, frowning as fresh blood welled from the wound.

Using a handful of snow, he cleaned the gash as best he could, then rewrapped it with another scrap of her dress. Finished with the most pressing matters, he pulled her into his arms and crawled beneath the damp blankets.

Staring into the dancing flames, he forced himself to resist the temptation of closing his eyes and recalling the image of the girl’s lush breasts and long, slim legs. It was difficult since those luscious curves and silky limbs were pressed intimately against him.

Desire chased away the icy chill, but the painful surge of blood to his groin was almost as uncomfortable.

He brushed a lock of hair from her eyes, tracing her features with a tenderness he’d forgotten he possessed. God, it felt good to have someone to take care of.

His warmth slowly took the chill from the girl’s skin. Soon, she was shivering against him, making soft, incoherent sounds as she snuggled even closer. He bit his lip and endured the sweet torture, wondering if it would have been easier to fall down in the snow and let the blizzard take him.

B ethany dreamed she was safe and sound in her husband David’s strong arms before his illness had left him rail-thin and weak as a kitten. He cradled her against him, his warm chest pressed against her back, his arm around her waist, holding her tight. She’d been cold for so long, but now she was toasty warm.

With a sleepy sigh, she snuggled closer, wishing she never had to awaken, wishing the dream could go on forever. It seemed an eternity since she’d last been touched, and she reveled in the texture of his bare skin next to hers.

His breath hitched as she shifted against his groin, letting the hot, heavy weight of his erection settle between the rounded curves of her bottom. Even at his healthiest, she couldn’t remember David ever being quite so… large.

Pressing his lips against her neck, he trailed his hand up her midsection before cupping her breast. “Christ, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice ragged with need. “Please tell me you’re awake.”

It was wrong, all wrong. The voice didn’t belong to David, nor did the beard-stubbled chin brushing her neck. The hand was too big, and so was the?—

Wrenching away, she scrambled to her knees, then gasped at the sudden pain streaking through her calf. Clasping her wounded leg, she glanced wildly around, taking in the fire, the cave, and the naked outlaw who’d held her.

His bare chest gleamed in the flickering light, and his dark hair brushed his wide shoulders. Even through her terror, she couldn’t help noticing that his body was a work of art—all lean muscles and bronzed skin. As she stared, he covered himself with the blanket she’d dislodged, hiding his arousal.

Swallowing, she forced herself to meet his intense blue gaze. “What happened? Why am I here with you?”

He shrugged and looked away. “The blizzard got worse. I found this cave, but I couldn’t stay here knowing you wouldn’t make it through the night. So, I went back for you.”

He came back for me . All she remembered was the biting cold and the certainty she was going to freeze to death. She’d been so numb, unable to fight sleep any longer…

Her fear seeped away, leaving amazed confusion. “You saved my life.”

“I couldn’t leave you there. And I’m sorry for this…” He waved a hand at the pallet beside him. “But I couldn’t think of any other way to warm you up.”

She glanced down at her leg and saw that he’d also rebandaged her wound. “Thank you. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“There’s no need.” He pushed himself to a sitting position and handed her one of the blankets. “It’s the first decent thing I’ve done in years.”

She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and wondered what to make of him. Should she be grateful or terrified? “What’s your name?”

“Zach,” he answered, seeming as baffled by her actions as she was by his. “Zach Price.”

“Bethany Sinclair.”

“Bethany.” He gave her a tentative smile. “Nice name. Soft and sweet, just like you.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she glanced away. She didn’t know what to think of his compliment, given the fact she’d lain in his arms just moments ago. He’d held her to keep her warm, but she couldn’t stop remembering how nice it had felt to be warm and desired once again.

“Can you pass me my pants? Beside you. On that rock.”

Nodding, she reached for the wool trousers he’d stretched out to dry beside her dress and cloak. “They’re still a bit damp,” she apologized, handing them over.

Their hands brushed, and her gaze flew to his, awareness skittering up and down her spine. She’d never been alone with a man besides her husband, David. And this man… this beautiful outlaw… had no reason to behave himself.

“It’s all right. A little chill might be good for me right now.” Giving her a pointed look, he struggled to pull the wet wool up over his lean hips.

His reference to his blatant arousal alarmed her, but within moments, he’d accomplished his task and was on his feet, adding another piece of wood to the fire. “There’s some food over there by the wall, and I think I have enough wood to see us through another day. By then, the storm should be over, and I’ll be on my way.”

“I won’t tell anyone which way you’ve gone,” she assured him, crossing the cave to where the sack lunches were stacked against the wall. “Not after all you’ve done for me.”

“I appreciate that, darlin’. They’ll catch up to me sooner or later, but I don’t intend to make it easy for them.”

She shivered, remembering the last time he’d called her by the sweet endearment when his hand had been on her breast, and every inch of him had been pressed intimately against her. Forcing the thought away, she grabbed two bags and moved back toward the fire. The cave sheltered them from the wind but was far from warm.

“Would you like something to eat?” She passed him one of the bags and then peered inside her own, finding an apple, a piece of chocolate cake wrapped in waxed paper, and a ham sandwich. Her stomach rumbled, and she wondered what time it was. Midnight, at least.

They ate in silence, but she felt him watching her. His intense regard made it difficult to swallow the dry sandwich. She wished they had something to drink but figured they could always melt some snow if they got desperate.

The long night loomed before her, and she decided that finding something to drink was the least of her worries.