by Unknown
“Yes.” She swayed. “Maybe not.”
He grabbed her by her forearms and steadied her. “Okay?”
She nodded, relaxing her grip on his shoulder. “Yeah, except for twinges here and there.”
“Twinges?” He rather thought she was dismissing her pain too easily. Reaching for the reins dragging the ground, he kept one eye on Jayla. The horse nickered and shied away. Wild swore. He’d have to pay closer attention to what he was doing or they’d end up stranded out here. That was not an option. He latched onto the reins. “Whoa, girl. Easy, now. Steady. It’s okay. She’s just a little filly who isn’t feeling very well. We’re going to give her a short ride.” He patted the mare’s face, calming her with soft words and a few gentle pats. He tried not to think about a longer, different kind of ride with Jayla Ross underneath his thrusting hips.
“Aww, God!”
Wild whipped around, his heart in his throat at her sharp cry. Chills swept over him. The blood rushed through his body, and he wondered how he could feel both cold and hot at the same time. He couldn’t shake the feeling things were about to take a turn for the worse. He reached for Jayla, but the frightened look on her pale face warned him not to touch her.
She gasped and doubled over.
Dime-size, cherry-red blotches, somehow obscene and terrifying, splattered the virgin snow where she stood. He stared at the ruby-red dots, disbelief churning in his gut.
Had her shoulder started bleeding?
Quickly, he traced his gaze over the creamy-colored coat hugging her slender body. No sign of fresh blood on it, so where the hell—
A soft whimper escaped Jayla, a sound of unmistakable pain.
Wild jerked his gaze to her colorless face. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone who looked like every ounce of blood had been drained from their body, except maybe Jace when he came out of surgery after Smitt Davis shot him, but this was different. His brother had lost a lot of blood before he ever reached the hospital in Havre.
Frowning, Wild searched Jayla’s ashen face. So far as he knew, she hadn’t lost any or much, unless her shoulder had bled significantly before she arrived here, or—he shuddered at where that or took him. Internal bleeding due to some unseen injury related to her car hitting the tree?
Don’t panic. First things first. “Did you lose a lot of blood after you were shot?” Dumb question. He raked his hat off his head and plowed trembling fingers through his hair. Of course she’d bled. What the hell was he thinking?
She nodded. “Some. Mostly I cried. I was so scared.” She bit her lower lip. “I was terrified he’d catch up with me before I reached you.”
“Damn.” He didn’t need to know that, didn’t want to know any of that. He wasn’t her savior. Hell, he couldn’t even save himself.
She gasped and doubled over for the second time.
Something was terribly wrong and it had nothing to do with her arm. His gaze locked on the dark spots that looked so alien and out of place on the faultless snow.
“What the fuck?” he croaked, when she suddenly dropped to her knees and rocked backed and forth. “Jayla!”
Her face, if possible, turned even whiter.
Hanging onto the reins, he hunkered beside her. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart, what in God’s name is wrong with you?” Wild’s heart raced. His pulse pounded. Suspicion niggled at his mind. “And don’t say you’ve been shot. This isn’t from a bullet in your shoulder.”
She glanced up. Her face looked pinched, lips tight, breasts rising and falling with each agitated breath she drew and exhaled. For some reason, knowing she was in this much pain scared him more than the sight of those droplets of blood.
His gut twisted with the urgent need to get her out of here, get her to his cabin where she’d be safe and warm. He had a bad, bad feeling, that like his mother, she’d hemorrhage to death, and it had nothing to do with that made-up yarn of hers about being shot.
He figured she’d concocted the cockamamie tale to gain his sympathy for God only knew what reason.
She’d calculated right.
When it came to Jayla, he was a damn softie. “Can you stand?”
“I–I don’t know. I don’t think so. My legs are pretty shaky. I feel like a—”
“To hell with it,” he muttered and scooped her into his arms. If she felt like she looked, then she didn’t have any strength left.
She needed help.
He was it.
If that made him a fool, well then, he’d been her fool before.
He swung her onto the horse sideways and climbed into the saddle, settling behind her. “Come here,” he said unable to believe he sounded so damn violent. Hell, he felt violent. He wanted to punch something, or someone, only there wasn’t anyone handy. The fierce anger he felt was wasted energy he could and should use for something else. It wasn’t like he could vent it on her. At this point, she was helpless. He’d never much liked bullies.
But damn it, she had no business out here in the cold, the wilderness, with just him for her chosen help mate. He wasn’t worth two cents.
Why’d she choose him?
He was nobody’s helper.
Wild settled her to the right in his arms. Her head rested against the right side of his chest.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked, then realizing it was unlikely said, “Well…as comfortable as you can be under the circumstances?”
She felt small and fragile in his arms. Up until now, he hadn’t realized how thin she was or how delicate she appeared. Leaning forward, he grabbed the reins with his left hand and nudged the mare into a slow walk.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t expect this to happen.”
“Don’t talk.”
Jayla groaned and sank her nails into his coat sleeve. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I swear.”
“You’re pregnant?”
She tilted back her head, her lips trembling and bloodless. “I am, but, I don’t do pregnancy well. My baby…I–I’m afraid I’ll lose it. You have to help me.”
Wild closed his eyes and smothered a curse. He’d seen the fear and grief on her face. She wanted the baby, and damn it, she seemed to think he was some kind of savior. He certainly couldn’t abandon her. Like it or not, they were stuck with each other.
“I’m not the father.”
“I know that,” she returned on a faint note.
“Just wanted that little fact cleared up before you accused me of it too.”
She looked wounded, her dark eyes misty. “You aren’t ever going to forgive me for lying about you, are you?” she asked with a tiny whimper.
“I don’t know. I can’t help wondering if the circumstances were reversed, how forgiving you’d be.”
Wild didn’t wait for her reply. He kneed the horse. Jayla needed out of the freezing cold. He wanted to get her inside before the blizzard hit with its promised ferocity, and with someone who knew what the hell they were doing under these circumstances, but that was wishful thinking.
“It’d depend on your reason for the lie,” she said on a sharp gasp.
“Shit.” He hated this. Hated knowing she hurt and that chances were she’d die if things really went south. God knew he had no idea what he was doing. He clamped his lips tightly together. She’d die just like his mother and once again, he’d be to blame.
“Don’t stop talking,” she pleaded.
Wild clenched the reins. He didn’t want to talk. He was too damn worried to talk. Hell, maybe she needed to hear the sound of his voice just to take her mind off her pain.
“If you stop, then I’ll just be one big ache,” she said confirming what he’d thought. “I need something to distract me.”
Wild nodded and picked up their conversation. He couldn’t think of another way to help her other than do what she asked—talk. “There’s no good reason to accuse a man of a crime he didn’t commit and cost him five years of his life.”
“You don’t know,” she said with a short bre
ath. “Ooo. The pain’s worse. Can’t you take me somewhere where there’s help?”
Wild gaped at her, his insides tightening. He’d never taken care of a woman having a miscarriage. Jesus Christ. What did she expect from him? Miracles? She could hemorrhage to death and there wasn’t one damn thing he could do to stop it. His gut clenched. Sweat popped out on his forehead. His body quivered with fear and anger. Why’d she come here to him in the middle of nowhere where she was in this bad of shape? Did she think he was a miracle worker?
“You’re kidding,” he snapped, the anxiety he felt drawing out his temper. “We’re at least seventy miles back in here.”
“That’s not far enough,” she replied.
“What?” He eyed her not sure he’d heard her correctly.
“I traveled halfway across the country and I’m pretty sure he won’t let that make a difference. He can’t. So believe me when I say, if anyone knows how far back in here we are, it’s me.” She sounded both sad and angry. “And it’s not enough.”
Wild narrowed his eyes. He didn’t give a good damn how far back in these mountains she thought she needed to be to remain safe. Right now, she looked like a ghost and grew paler by the minute. She wasn’t making a whole hell of a lot of sense either.
How much blood had she lost? Losing? How fast?
Frustration flooded his body. God damn it! She couldn’t do this to him, just pop up out of nowhere and need him. He wasn’t any use to her. Hell, he barely functioned day to day.
And there was a little matter of trust.
He didn’t possess a smidgen of faith in her word. He’d seen her put on a show before and it landed him in more trouble than he wanted to risk getting into again. What he needed was a tall, thick wall between him and Jayla, and he needed it fast. “You can cut the act,” he said bluntly. “You won’t win any points with the poor me routine.”
Her lower lip quivered. “I see. Well.” She closed her eyes and panted. “Can you hurry, please? I really need to get off this horse and lie down.”
“Hold on. We aren’t exactly on a smooth riding trail here, but we’ll make it in a few minutes.” Why he found it necessary to reassure her, he had no idea. He supposed the idiot button was working again.
Her forehead creased. “I don’t think I have a few minutes.”
His heart skipped a beat. Did she sound weaker or was it his imagination? Wild tightened his hold on her. His mind warred with his actions. Where the hell he got this irrational desire to protect her was beyond him. He knew he’d live to regret getting involved with her, but like all the males in his family, he was a sucker for small, injured things.
“Don’t you effing die on me,” he ordered, half panicked.
Her lips twisted with a tiny smile. “I’d think that’d make you happy.”
Wild dipped his head. The brim of his hat shadowed her face. He searched her eyes for some kind of truth, but saw only pain reflected in her dark gaze. “You’d be wrong,” he returned huskily. “I’ve never wanted you dead. I wanted…want justice. You got by with perjury.”
“I paid in other ways.” Her voice sounded muted, unsteady. “Believe me. My sentence was much harsher than yours.”
“You’re telling me you spent time in a prison?” He snorted and looked away. “I somehow doubt that.”
She cupped the side of his cheek with an unsteady hand, forcing him to look at her. “There are prisons with bars, then there are prisons without them, it doesn’t mean they aren’t hellish just the same.”
“Get your hand off me.” He hadn’t meant to sound so sharp, but then, if he was going to build that wall, and keep it erected, he had to start somewhere. Besides, he couldn’t bear her touch. She didn’t have a clue what she did to him. He wanted to keep it that way. Her touch confused him. It had the power to make him weak. It left him yearning for things, for a life he could never have, and he found it difficult to shake the feel of her fingers against his skin.
“Wild…I—”
“No.” He cut her off mid-sentence. “Don’t say anything else. You have no idea what prison is like, the degradation one suffers or how it makes a man feel less of a man, less of a human. It makes him hunger for things he can’t have, can never have.” He paused, drew a deep breath and slowly released it. “You’re a spoiled rich girl who wants everything her way and doesn’t care who she hurts to get what she wants. So don’t tell me what hell prison is. I was there. Remember?”
She nodded and closed her eyes. “I was there, too. Believe me or not, I was there with you every single second of every day and night, every week of every month, year after year. I died a little every day knowing you were caged inside hating me with each second that passed.” She dropped her head, ashamed. “I dared not tell anyone what truly happened that summer day,” she said, her voice almost too low to hear. “I could do or say nothing to gain your freedom.”
Wild snorted. “You think I believe this hogwash?”
She closed her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them, she hadn’t quite managed to hide the guilt or shame. “I wanted to get you free. If you never believe a word I say, believe that. I thought of every way I could possibly get you out of there, short of telling the truth. If I’d come forward and admitted I lied, someone I loved very much would have died. I couldn’t risk that happening. I had enough on my conscience already. It wasn’t just that, though. Your life…would have ended inside those prison walls.”
Chapter Four
You never lose by loving. You always lost by holding back.
~Anon
Montana
West side of Dancing Star
February 20, Friday
3:00 p.m.
Finally, and for the first time in her life, Jayla was where she’d always wanted to be—sort of. When she’d envisioned herself in Wild’s arms, she hadn’t pictured being on horseback, and she could do without the bullet, the cramps boring a hole in her belly clear to her backbone, and his cold, restless eyes.
No, a more horizontal picture was what she’d had in mind, a loving face hovering over hers, steamy kisses, tender words, and hot, sexy touches that set them both ablaze. She’d also like a little sunshine, but hey, a lady couldn’t have everything her way. Under the circumstances, she figured she was lucky Wild even offered her a lift on his horse.
No two ways about it, the man hated her.
She supposed he always would.
Jayla sighed and tried to relax, but her womb squeezed tighter than her heart with premature contractions. If she could just get somewhere and lie down, maybe it’d stop, maybe she wouldn’t lose—no. She cut off the thought immediately and bit the inside of her jaw as wave after wave of cramps knotted her stomach. She tried, nearly biting a hunk out of the inside of her mouth, but she couldn’t suppress the sharp gasp.
Although Jayla knew Wild didn’t want her any closer to him than necessary, she pressed her face against his wide chest and drew a long breath. Her body shook. She tried to concentrate on her breathing, and not scream from the discomfort bottled inside her.
His arms tightened around her.
God, it felt good to be held by Wild Remington. She breathed in his masculine scent. He smelled like the wind, cool, fresh, and clean. How she knew he was dependable, and would be there for her, she had no clue. She just knew she trusted him with her life, with her baby’s life. She hadn’t felt this safe or secure since she was fifteen.
In her heart, she wished he’d hold her forever. Jayla swallowed down the large knot of misery choking her. Damn. Bawling like a baby wouldn’t do her a bit of good.
“Hang in there,” he said as if realizing she was not only in pain, but in mental turmoil too.
Unable to say a word at the moment, she nodded, and concentrated on ignoring the ache in her belly. Lord knew she’d come here believing Wild capable of keeping her and her baby safe from Kane Masters, but this was beyond his control. Keeping her out of harm’s way from Kane was one thing, but out doing God was quite
another. When it came to losing or holding onto to this baby, it was all in His hands.
But it said a lot for her cowboy when she hurt so much she thought she might die, yet felt utterly secure and protected in his arms. Even though he detested her, he wouldn’t let anything happen to her if he could help it.
Her cowboy?
Jayla’s body quivered. In her heart, Wild had always belonged to her, just as she’d always known she belonged to him. Of course, she was pretty sure he had other ideas in his head. Stubborn to a fault, she guessed she’d have to work on getting those notions out of his head. She was here to see that he changed his mind. Wasn’t she?
Oh, Lord, wasn’t it just her luck she had to be pregnant by another man to complicate things?
Then a horrible thought struck her. What if Wild wouldn’t want her or her baby? What man accepted a woman already knocked up—especially when that man had no tender feelings for the woman in the first place and had to be nudged in her direction?
This just proved what an idiot she was for haring off to Montana, hunting down Wild, when she had absolutely no reason to think he cared for her. Jayla buried a moan that rose to the back of her throat. “Please, Lord, I’m not asking for much…just let me enjoy being in his arms for a few more minutes before my entire life goes to hell or he decides to drop me on my head. And if You could, maybe do something about that mulish attitude of his and have him open his heart to me a little.”
“You say something?” Wild leaned in giving them a false intimacy she knew he didn’t feel in the least. Even this close, he managed to keep an invisible barrier between them in the stiff way he held his body and the closed look on his face.