by D'Ann Lindun
Dragging the packs into the tent, she pulled out the sleeping bags and unrolled both. Her whole body craved a hot cup of coffee, but before she could make it, she needed to get Shane into the shelter and build a fire.
She approached him and knelt by his side. His eyes were closed. “Hey, you okay?”
“Been better.”
“We need to get you out of the rain. Can you stand?”
He nodded, then grimaced. “Yeah.”
With her hands steadying him, he managed to climb to his feet. He swayed. “Damn.”
“You’re really unsteady.” She took hold of his elbow. “Easy does it.” Slowly, she guided him to the tent. Inside, he collapsed onto his bedroll.
“My head’s swimming.”
“Can you get your clothes off?” She nibbled her bottom lip. “Or do you need me to do it?”
“I’ll manage.”
“Let me help you get your boots.” She lifted one of his booted feet and tugged. When his boot slid off, she dropped it by his hip, then reached for the other one. “I’m going to build a fire and make coffee. Don’t sleep. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Okay.”
She watched as he reached for his buttons, then slipped outside. She unsaddled the horses, dragged the saddles inside the small tent, then hobbled the animals and loosed them to graze on sweet mountain grass. Then, she looked for wood to build a fire. In the pouring rain, it was difficult, but she managed to pry a few chunks from the bottom of the big log.
The tent had had a small awning and she dropped the wood there. She needed a fire ring. Finding a few rocks didn’t take long and she placed them in a circle, then built a pyramid out of the wood in the middle of her fire pit.
It took a few tries, but she finally one of the logs to blaze.
With a huge sigh of relief, she ducked into the tent. Shane had two lanterns burning and she saw he’d undressed and huddled in his sleeping bag. “Marshal? You awake?”
“Uh-huh.” He pushed the covers down to his chest.
She averted her eyes from his bare skin. “I have a fire right outside, under the awning. I’m going to make coffee and something to eat. I think something in your stomach might make you feel better.”
“The animals—”
“Are fine. I unsaddled them and they’re grazing right outside.”
He lifted a hand, then dropped it. “Good job.”
The simple compliment warmed her more than it should have. She gathered his clothes and supplies for coffee, then ducked back outside again. After adding a few pieces of wood to the fire, she placed the coffeepot on top of the blaze. She propped up a couple of sticks and hung his clothes from them near the fire. Steam from them rose in the air. The tension in her shoulders eased a little and she realized how tired she was.
The wind rose and Isabella shivered. She longed for a hot bath and the comfort of her own bed. The coffee boiled, dragging her to the present. She poured the dark liquid into two mugs and carried them into the tent.
The marshal had again burrowed in his sleeping bag.
Isabella knelt beside him and touched what she believed to be his shoulder. “Marshal? You okay?” She pushed the covers away from his face. “You better sit up. If you’re able?”
“Yeah.” He struggled into a sitting position and reached for the mug. “Thanks.”
She placed the hot drink in his shaking hands, while avoiding staring at his abs. “Careful, it’s hot.”
He sipped. “That’s good.”
The bruise on his forehead had darkened and black circles had formed around his eyes. He looked terrible, in need of medical attention. She said, “You need a doctor.”
“I’ve got to catch Gonzalez,” he said through chattering teeth.
“You’re not going to catch anyone if you get sicker.” She tasted the coffee and sighed in appreciation. “Besides, who knows where Reuben might be by now. Probably Silverton.”
The steady patter of rain on the tent’s roof was the only sound for several minutes. They drank coffee, each lost in their own thoughts.
After Isabella finished her drink, she set the cup aside and pulled her coat tight. “I’m going to make something to eat.”
“I’ll do it—”
Gently, she pushed his shoulder. His bare skin felt like a chunk of ice. “You need to stay warm.”
He nodded, then lay back, tugging his covers close. “I am cold.”
“I wish I could get some heat in here.” She glanced up at the roof. “But this tent isn’t equipped to have a fire inside, and I’m afraid doing so would be disastrous.”
“You could warm me up.”
“How?” She stood and backed away. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
“I’m only suggesting we share our blankets and let our combined heat warm us.”
The suggestion made sense. He was close to having hypothermia and she was cold, too. “Let’s zip our bags together.” She moved toward her sleeping bag and he waved her away.
“I can get it. You’ve done enough.”
“Are you hungry?” Her appetite had fled at the thought of lying next to him, platonic or not. He was dangerously sexy for a woman alone far too long.
“No.”
“You need to eat,” she insisted. “At least some soup.”
“Take a gun and stay on the alert. I doubt that guy’s still around, but just be aware of your surroundings,” he said.
She located a can of vegetable soup and a pot. Carrying them, along with his rifle outside, she added more wood to the fire and placed the soup on top of the flames. After making sure it was secure, she scanned the area for any sign of Reuben, but saw nothing but a gloomy, rain-drenched evening.
She walked to the equines and caught them. “Sorry, guys, but it’s time to be tied up.”
She secured all three animals to trees, then gave them a pat. “See you in the morning, ponies.”
By the time she finished with the horses, the vegetable soup was boiling. She poured it into the same mugs they’d used for coffee and carried them inside. The marshal was sitting up, his back against his saddle. He took the mug with hands a little less shaky.
“How’s your head?” Isabella sat cross-legged on the edge of the blankets. “I have some Ibuprofen in my bag.”
“I could use some,” he admitted. “That guy packs a hell of a punch.”
“Reuben punched you?” She stared at him incredulously.
“No, I think he cracked me on the head with a tree branch. I was speaking metaphorically.” He frowned. “As a writer, I’d think you’d catch that.”
“Guess I’m off my game,” she snapped.
“Anyone would be.” He softened his tone. “You’re a trooper, Isabella.”
“Thanks.” She met his eyes and her stomach did a little jig. Surely a man as sexy as him was married, or in a serious relationship. “What did your wife think of you chasing criminals? It’s not exactly nine-to-five.”
Pain flashed across his face before he masked it. “Ellie’s dead.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Shane’s bleak words hung between them.
Isabella stared at him for several long moments, but he didn’t say more. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” He set the mug aside. “You tired?”
Exhausted. Bone weary. But also wired like a sound system. She nodded. “Yeah, but I want to wash our dishes first.”
Before he could say more, she ducked outside. She poured a bottle of water into the pot and placed both mugs in it, then placed it over the fire. Her mind raced as she waited for the water to boil. What happened to the marshal’s wife? Ellie? Pain had been apparent in his voice when he spoke her name.
Isabella understood that emotion all too well. She’d loved Reuben so much when they married, but that love turned to hate when he became emotionally and physically abusive. One failure after another turned him bitter and mean.
Her success hadn’t helped things between them. The better he
r books did, the more he resented her. Barbed remarks turned to slaps, then punches. She’d been trying to figure out a way to escape when he committed the robbery. Shortly after he went to prison, she divorced him.
Never again would she allow herself to be trapped by a man. Her books had taken off and she made enough money to support herself. She had a good life now. One she intended to keep. She might crawl into Shane’s sleeping bag to help warm him, but she wasn’t having sex with him and she damn sure wasn’t risking her heart.
The water boiled and she washed and rinsed their dishes, then dried them with a dishtowel. She stowed them inside the panniers, and found the Ibuprofen in her bag, then drew a deep breath. Time to face the music, or at least the marshal.
She opened the tent flap and ducked inside. “You asleep?”
“No.” He sounded sleepy.
“I have Ibuprofen,” she said. “Take some.”
He sat and took the medicine and a bottle of water from her. “Thanks.”
“How’s your head? Any better?”
“A little.” He swallowed the pills, along with water.
“Still cold?”
“Yeah.”
“If you’re ready, I’m going to turn out the light now.” A tremor ran through her at the thought of climbing in the sleeping bag.
“Okay.”
Isabella extinguished the lantern with a shaking hand. Only the sounds of wind whipping rain against the tent filled the darkness. She waved her hand in front of her face and couldn’t see it, only felt the movement.
Stripping to a plain, white camisole, bra and panties, she wrapped her arms around her middle. “I’m ready.”
The covers rustled. “Get in.”
She slipped into the sleeping bag and zipped it. She lay rigid, on her back, staring into the dark.
“Turn over,” Shane said. “So we can get closer.”
Isabella jumped at the sound of his voice close to her ear. “Okay.” She rolled to her side, facing him. Tentatively, she reached out and the tips of her fingers came in contact with his chest. He felt like a chunk of ice. “You’re frozen solid.”
“Yeah.”
She slid an inch closer until their bodies touched from chest to toe. Like her, he wore only underwear. Boxer shorts. “Better?
“Some.” Shivers racked his body, belying his words.
If he didn’t warm up, he was in serious danger of hypothermia. Moving as close as she could, she put her arm over his waist, her clenched fist against his back. He hesitated a moment, then wrapped his arm around her, too. One of his legs edged between hers and he rested his chin on top of her head. “You’re warm. Feels good.”
Her nose pressed against his rock solid chest. “You’re like an iceberg.”
“You don’t have to remind me.” She could hear the slight smile in his voice. “It’s not every day I’m in bed with a beautiful woman, but too cold to rise to the occasion.”
He thought she was beautiful?
Isabella turned off that train of thought immediately. “If you weren’t colder than an icicle, I wouldn’t be snuggled up to you like this.”
“I’m not your type?”
“No,” she lied.
“You prefer men who walk on the other side of the law? So-called bad boys?” Anger dripped from his voice.
“Of course not. I’m not interested in anyone, good or bad. I like my life exactly the way it is.”
“I don’t.” His hand on her back tightened. “I wish I had my wife back every day.”
“How did she…die?”
“Murdered.” He words came out strangled. “By a convict who took her hostage.”
“Oh, God.” Isabella’s heart broke at the pain in his voice. “Just like Reuben did to me.”
“Yeah, but you managed to escape,” he said in a guttural voice. “Ellie wasn’t as lucky.”
She wished she had a way to erase the heavy grief in his tone. She moved her hand over his stubbly cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. I am, too.”
She only wanted to take away the hurt. Without thinking, or plan, she pressed her lips to his. For a moment, he didn’t respond and a hot flush of humiliation washed over her. What had she been thinking? He was still in love with his wife. He must think her trampy.
Before her thoughts carried her away, his mouth opened and he took control of the kiss, deepening it. Their tongues met, pulled back. The act turned from comfort to passion. Never in her life had she been kissed so thoroughly.
Isabelle ran her hand up his back, to his neck. Her thumb traced circles on his skin until he shuddered.
Her breasts crushed against his chest, and she had the overwhelming urge to remove the barrier between them. With a gasp, she pulled her mouth from his and reached for the hem of her camisole. She rose slightly, and together, they pulled it over her head. Still dissatisfied, Isabella reached for the front clasp of her bra.
Shane’s big hand covered hers. “Let me.”
She moved her trembling hand aside. With ease born of experience, he undid the clasp and slid the cups aside. Her nipples peaked, ached. When he brushed them with his fingertips, she arched her back.
Scooting down in the bag until his mouth was even with her breasts, he took the right one in his mouth. The warm, wet sensation of her breast sucked deep into his mouth sent a flash of desire straight between her legs and she clenched her thighs together. She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and held him in place. She wanted him to stay there forever. He grazed her nipple with his teeth and she cried out.
He released her and she moaned in protest.
“Roll onto your back,” he ordered.
Mindlessly, she obeyed.
Taking her neglected left breast into his mouth, he flicked his tongue around her nipple, then gently bit it. With his free hand, he covered her other breast and pinched her nipple until it stood erect. Moving his mouth to it, he sucked until she thought she might sob from the exquisite torture.
He moved his hand from her breast, down her ribs and hip to her ass, and pulled her tight against him. If he had been too cold to perform before, he no longer had that particular problem. His erection pressed against her thigh.
Isabella had always been shy, never willing to take the lead in lovemaking. Whatever Reuben wanted had been what they did. Usually a little fondling, then a quickie. Something about being in total darkness with a near stranger gave her courage.
She edged her fingers between them and explored his chest. Fine, soft hair, flat nipples. Rock solid abs. Tracing lower, she slid her fingers under his waistband and found his penis. He moaned and angled his hips away from her, allowing full access. She didn’t need any more invitation and slid her thumb over the head.
Silky, smooth, hard.
She’d forgotten how a man could be so soft, yet so rigid and at the same time.
Moving up until his face was level with hers, he took hold of her chin, turned her face toward his and nipped her bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue. Still holding her chin, he claimed her mouth, plunging his tongue inside.
Her hand circled his cock.
Tightened.
She wanted, needed his shorts out of the way. Releasing him, she tugged on the waistband. He lifted his hips and helped her remove them. Free to touch him now, she again captured him with her hand. Tentatively, she stroked. It didn’t seem possible, but his erection seemed to expand under her ministrations.
He released her chin and moved his hand to the juncture of her thighs.
Isabella’s breath caught.
“You want me to stop?” Shane asked against her mouth.
Not trusting her voice, she shook her head. Realizing he couldn’t see her in the dark, she parted her thighs, then reached for his wrist and slid his hand between her legs.
Her thighs shook.
It had been a long time since anyone had touched her there.
Slipping his palm lower, he parted her folds and pushed his m
iddle finger inside. With slow, deliberate movements, he readied her body for his. As he pleasured her, she turned her head and pressed her mouth against his shoulder to keep from crying out.
Her muscles tightened around his finger. Her hips rose and bucked. She squeezed her thighs tight around his hand.
He flicked his thumb across her clit.
The orgasm hit her like a waterfall and she threw her head back and screamed. No words, just a primal howl of release and fulfillment.
As the tremors subsided, embarrassment hit her and she wanted to be anywhere but there. She’d never let go like that before, and certainly not with someone she barely knew. Before she could process her conflicting emotions, Shane rolled over onto her and pressed a kiss to her lips.
“You okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
He spoke by her ear. “I haven’t been with anyone since Ellie—”
“Me either.” A nervous giggle gurgled out of her. “I mean Reuben.”
“I don’t have a condom—”
She wasn’t a naïve teenager; she knew what was at risk. Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t run away from responsibility if the need arose. “Marshal—”
“Shane.”
“Shane.” His name sounded good on her lips. “I want you.”
He nudged her knees apart with his legs and settled between her thighs. “Are you sure, Isabella?”
“I’m positive,” she managed.
One or both of them moaned when his erection slid inside her. She tensed as her body adjusted to his size.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” She lifted her hips and that was all the invitation he needed. He pushed deeper into her, then withdrew.
She whimpered a protest and he thrust back into her, hard enough to propel them both forward. He anchored himself by grabbing her hips and she wrapped her legs around his ass, which almost seemed more intimate than the act itself. Isabella wasn’t wild, or promiscuous, so to be so free with a stranger was way out of character for her. She met every one of Shane’s thrust with one of her own, until they caught and held a perfect rhythm.