Lifting her head, she glanced about again. Exactly where were her clothes? And just where in the hell had this blasted itchy blanket come from? She began to scratch vigorously.
“Max! Get back here right now, mister!”
She turned her face toward the sun and squinted against the glare. By her estimation its position in the sky suggested it was mid-afternoon. She’d fallen asleep sometime after sun rise, thankfully before the day’s soaring temperature had taken its toll again. Under any other circumstances, she’d have welcomed the caress of warm sunshine on her face, but not today. After two days of exposure, the arid summer heat continued to dehydrate her. And the sun’s strong rays had baked her skin to a bright shade of boiled lobster. She needed water, and soon.
A fly buzzed her face, pestered her nostril. She swatted it away. “Go away. I’m not dead,” she muttered, although she suspected she stunk royally after days without a bath.
So this was her new, exciting life in the past, the great adventure Stella the Spirit Guide hyped it up to be? Oh yes, she was going to do great things, she and her little dog…. Together Halle and Super Max would change the world. Maybe even slay a mean old dragon or two and ride off into the sunset with a handsome prince. Bullshit. Already it sucked big time.
She lolled her head to the side and focused on deep green cactus and soft, dusty brush which contrasted against multicolored sandstone and limestone bluffs. The sky, a deep turquoise with sparsely scattered puffy popcorn clouds made the setting as picturesque as a glossy travel brochure. This was a gorgeous place to visit but not where she wanted to die. If it were possible she could die. After surviving a roller coaster ride off a fifty-foot cliff two days ago, and being whisked back nearly a hundred and fifty years into the past, life and death had suddenly taken on a new definition.
But what if something had gone wrong in the transition? She was still in the ravine where her car crashed days before and Stella had vanished. Now Halle lay nearly naked beneath a blanket she’d never seen before, and not a soul was to be found. Yep, dear old Stella neglected to give her details of what might happen once she entered a nineteenth century world or exactly who might rescue her.
“Nope, you’re going to have to save yourself, girlfriend,” she grumbled. “No one is coming to your rescue. There are no knights in shining armor. Maybe an ogre or a troll lurking in this hell hole but definitely no Prince Charmings.”
She lifted her head and the scenery whirled as if she’d drunk too many strawberry daquiris. Bad move. She lay still, listening to the sounds of birds and other creatures, wondering where in the hell Max had gotten off to again.
“Max! This is no time or place to be goofing around. Do your business and get back here on the double.” Pain shot through her skull, and she drew in several deep, calming breaths. That was a smooth move. Okay. No more yelling.
She closed her eyes and willed herself to relax. She had to think clearly, had to try and remember what she’d done with her clothes…where she’d found this blanket…where the bandages had come from. Tension began to drain from her body as she again focused on the soft whoosh of wind through the brush. A woodpecker riveted a tree far in the distance, its rat-a-tat-tat carrying on the warm breeze.
Then she heard something else. Trickling water.
A stream? How had she missed it before? She must have scouted this spot a dozen times when she first arrived. Her thoughts went into a whirl. Maybe she could drag herself to the water’s edge for a drink. It was probably chock-full of enough amoebas and bacteria to cause a high fever and make her puke her guts out, but who cared. It was water, and if it was moving water, it was probably safe enough to drink. She rolled onto her stomach and groaned.
Oh. My. God.
Moving hurt even worse than screaming for Max.
She dragged herself a few inches in the direction of the gurgle, freezing at the sound of foot falls on the hard earth. Which direction had it come from? She grappled for the blanket in an attempt to shield her nearly naked backside from view.
“You are awake,” A man’s deep voice froze her in place as fear knotted in her throat. Had he been watching her struggle all this time? Was he the one who’d undressed her—perhaps done other things to her while she lay unconscious?
“Who are you?” she called out, hoping she masked the fear in her voice. Panic welled up inside when he didn’t answer.
She turned her face in time to catch a flash of black and tan barreling toward her. Oh, gee thanks, Max for sticking around to protect me from this potential psycho.
“When I found you yesterday, the dog was guarding you,” the man said.
Wincing at the soreness in her ribs, Halle tried in vain to roll onto her side to get a look at him. She heard the scrunch of dry gravel beneath his feet as he edged closer, turned her head to come face to toe with well-worn brown leather boots.
A strong, but gentle hand scooped beneath her ribs, another beneath the front of her thighs. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit down on her lower lip as a sharp pain ripped through her midsection. She inhaled sharply, bit back a cry as he turned her onto her back and gently released her.
“Holy shit, that hurts!” She fought back tears, as well as the urge to punch the jerk for causing more pain. “Think you can be any rougher?” She gritted her teeth and kept her eyes clenched against the bright sun.
Max snuggled close to her head and licked her ear. She hadn’t meant to curse the guy, but it had hurt like hell. “I didn’t mean to yell, “she managed in a whisper once the throbbing subsided.
“I know. You are weak and in pain.”
No shit, Sherlock. Halle dared at look at him through a blur of hot tears. She blinked in disbelief. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not in a million years. Not in her life, period.
She reached up and flicked the moisture from her eyes with her fingertips. Never would she have such luck. She was hallucinating. Yes, it must be her mind playing tricks. Two days of soaring temperatures and lack of food and drink had finally souffléd her brain.
She snapped her eyes shut and quickly counted to ten before opening them to gaze up at the most delicious looking man she’d ever seen. Smoke-gray eyes. Full, pouting lips. A strong squared jaw and well-muscled biceps. Her gaze slid lower.
Whoa! Pecs ahoy!
A sleeveless leather vest hung open, revealing his rippled, muscular chest and abs. An authentic-looking bandolier was slung across his shoulder. An outlaw? Her heart dipped. Oh, hell. Wouldn’t that be her sorry luck? Rescued by a bad boy of the worst kind.
Although a deep rich brown, strands of his hair shimmered like gold in the sunlight. Thick straight locks fell past his deeply tanned shoulders. His facial features—the shape of his eyes and high cheekbones were clearly Native American—though his gray eyes denoted a Caucasian ancestor in the gene pool.
Wait a minute. Was this the same guy on the highway who’d caused the wreck two nights ago, the one on the horse? It was difficult to tell for certain.
“What did you do with my clothes?”
“I washed them. They are drying on the rocks near the stream.”
He’d undressed her? Uh-oh. Not good. Not good at all. “H-how did you find me?”
He turned to rummage through a canvas satchel a few feet away but didn’t answer.
She studied him a moment, the planes and angles of his tanned face, the way the breeze tousled wisps of his shiny, silky hair. Muscled, bronzed biceps glossed with a sheen of sweat. Sexy sweat. Halle almost wished he would stand so she could get a gander at his backside.
She became painfully aware her hair was greasy with perspiration, her armpits fuzzy with two days’ growth and sporting odor atrocious enough to repel an army of skunks.
Moving closer again, he slipped one hand behind her neck and lifted her head up a bit to bring a canteen spout to her lips.
“Drink.”
His gaze locked with hers and her heart did a pit-a-pat. She took a sip of the cool water, rolling it over
her tongue. Slightly warm, but sweet. She swallowed, taking too large a sip and choked. Sputtering, she coughed hard, then puked a stream of water, spraying his pants legs and boots. He stared but did not appear horrified. She clenched her eyes shut and died a slow, mortifying death.
Oh, hell. She’d puked on a guy!
He pressed a cloth to her lips and wiped her chin but she turned her face aside. “Stop. I don’t need water.”
“You do need water. You simply drank too fast.”
No, I choked because you’re so damned hot looking. “I’m not thirsty” she lied, unable to meet his gaze.
He grasped her hand and thrust the canteen into it. “This time, drink slowly.”
Halle tried not to slurp but figured what the hell. She stunk. Was half-naked with fuzzy armpits. Not to mention she’d barfed on his boots. Somehow it seemed pointless to care what he thought. She tipped the canteen upside down and gulped. He quickly lifted it away.
“I warned you not to drink too fast. You will make yourself ill.” He capped the spout and tossed it on top of the canvas bag out of her reach, then pushed up from the ground. “You rest. I’ll make food.”
Halle watched him walk away, her eyes riveting on his oh-so–nice, tight rear end. Firm butt muscles worked buttery colored buckskins, conjuring up a wicked fantasy or two. He must be around thirty, she figured, give or take a couple of years. And buff. No, he didn’t get that physique in a gym either.
He squatted some distance away. Now what was he doing? She craned her neck and watched him lean low to puff at a stack of twigs. Small hunks of what appeared to be raw meat hung across two branches. Ewww, gross! It had legs and arms. The head was still on, too! A pitiful gray wisp of smoke trailed into the air and wafted past. “Great. I’m dying in this hell hole and the dude’s having a cook out,” she muttered under her breath.
He glanced over his shoulder. “You are not dying.”
Halle hadn’t realized he’d heard her. “Okay. Maybe not. But it’s still a hell hole.”
He shrugged, then sat back on his haunches and stared at the tiny orange flames. As he tossed more twigs on the fire, the flames crackled, igniting the limbs. White, acrid smoke wafted toward her. She fanned it away, not wanting to obscure her view of him. He really had a nice, firm looking butt, strong, muscular legs and arms and wide shoulders. She wondered if his straight, shiny hair was as soft as it looked. He turned and caught her staring. Halle quickly averted her eyes.
“Do you spy something that interests you?”
It was the way he said it, in a smug, sensual tone that caused the blood to rush to her head and most parts south of her navel. Hell yeah, she’d been staring, specifically at his fine ass. Why not? Even though he was older than most guys she found attractive, he was the best looking one she’d seen in a long time.
“I…I was only trying to figure out what you were doing,” she blurted out, realizing how defensive she sounded. “Is that a crime?”
A smile formed at the corners of his mouth, but faded quickly. He cleared his throat and changed the subject, thankfully. “I put two stitches in your knee while you were unconscious.”
Stitches? Whoa, whoa, whoa. Her mind screeched to a halt. She must not have heard correctly. “You did what to my knee?” Halle drew her legs up and felt around, locating the prickly, drawn sutures. Oh. My. God. He’d sewn the gash? Clutching the blanket to her breasts, she strained to sit up. Her fingertips traced the dark threads. She plucked at them. “What the hell did you use, fishing line? Did you even wash your hands?”
She counted back six years to her last tetanus shot. Probably safe unless her immunity to disease had been affected by the transition back in time.
He stood, placing his hands on his hips. Halle swallowed the hard lump of fear in her throat as she met his penetrating gaze. She hadn’t meant to piss him off. But he was a stranger. He could do anything to her and she’d be helpless to stop him.
“You are an ungrateful woman.”
She opened her mouth to tell him where he could stick his ‘ungrateful woman’ comment then snapped it shut. Damn. Even Stella had called her ungrateful. Sheesh, what was up with these people?
From the intensity of his stare Halle realized she’d insulted him. Now she felt like crap. He actually seemed like a nice guy who only wanted to help. And she wasn’t ungrateful for his aid. Far from it. Still, he might have exposed her to serious infection. She reminded herself that a man from his time period probably didn’t know about bacteria.
When he moved closer and knelt down, her heart leapt into her throat. They were so close she could feel the heat radiating from his muscular body. She sucked in a breath and held it as her gaze moved from his beautiful gray eyes, to his full, sensual lips…and lower. She’d never seen a man who was so….beautiful.
“Why do you look at me with questioning eyes? Do you not remember how you were injured? How you arrived in this place?”
Actually, she didn’t recall the transition back in time. One moment Stella was talking to her, the next there was a whirling vortex of wind around her. Then it was morning and she and Max were alone in the arroyo.
He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and her breath caught as he tenderly tucked it behind her ear. His fingertips swept across her cheek, setting a swirl of butterflies loose in her tummy. She dared not breathe. Actually, she couldn’t breathe as he continued to fondle a lock of her hair.
“You are afraid of me?”
Halle stared into his hypnotic gaze. Her pulse quickened. Did he want her to fear him? Or was he merely making an observation? “No. I’m not afraid of you,” she lied. In reality she was ready to crap a brick. Maybe two.
“I see it in your eyes, in your shallow breaths.” He touched his fingertips to the side of her throat. “Your pulse beats like the wings of a captured bird.”
Unable to contain her amusement, Halle laughed. “Well, gee…aren’t you poetic. A regular Robert Barrett Browning.”
His eyes lit up. “You have read Browning?”
She stared. Please don’t tell me the outlaw reads poetry?
He brushed his knuckles across her cheek again and she flinched. That wasn’t all that happened. Her breasts tingled as a fierce twinge of arousal hit. He withdrew his hand and she almost wished he’d touch her again, to confirm he’d set off the fireworks in her body. The knowing look in his eyes told her he knew damned well his touch excited her. Still, she couldn’t let her guard down simply because he was hot. There were probably plenty of murderers and rapists who had looked absolutely normal to their victims, too.
“Who left you here alone in the canyon?” He eased the blanket aside to examine her knee.
Halle held her breath as his fingertips brushed her calf. Damn, but he was bold. Being touched by anyone—particularly a man—was unsettling. Her body melted into one great big gloppy pile of pudding as an involuntary shiver rippled through her.
“I asked how you arrived at this place.” His tone held an edge of impatience.
She blinked, disturbed by the fact he was curiously eyeing her black toenails. Did he have a foot fetish? Ewww! She hoped he wouldn’t do anything kinky like try to kiss or suck them.
“I...I don’t know,” she answered with much difficulty.
There was nothing suggestive in his voice or in his eyes, but his touching her toes electrified her in places she didn’t want stimulated. The warm, slow tingle began in her breasts again and she wished he would stop whatever he was doing to make her feel this way.
“A horse darted across the road in front of my car.” She snapped her mouth shut. Oops! Automobiles hadn’t been invented yet. “I mean my cart.” She emphasized the ‘T’. Yes, my cart. I swerved the reins on my cart.” Oh, how stupid! One did not swerve reins on a cart. At least she didn’t think so.
He stared. “Swerved the reins? I don’t understand.”
That made two of them. She couldn’t tell him the truth, that she’d come from the future. He’d think sh
e was a lunatic.
He sat back again. “You are keeping secrets. Why?”
“I’m not keeping secrets. I really was in an accident a few days ago.”
“How did you fall? From a horse? A wagon?”
“I fell on the rocks. Over there,” she gestured. “I was climbing to get away from animals.”
“But how did you arrive at this place? There are no wheel ruts or hoof prints, nothing to indicate anyone else has been here before I came along. Although I was here a few days ago, even my tracks are gone.”
Halle swallowed hard. He would never believe her wild story, that she crashed her car in this canyon, an invention that didn’t exist yet. He’d probably really be entertained with the story that a woman calling herself a ‘spirit guide’ helped her make the transition back in time. “I really don’t know how I got here.”
“Were you running from someone?”
Why did he press for answers? “I’m not running from anyone.”
“Earlier in your sleep you pleaded with someone not to hurt you. You called a man’s name. Cole, I believe. Did he hurt you?”
Frank Cole. The man who’d ordered Hope Brannigan’s murder.
He laid the back of his hand to her forehead. “You are fevered.”
She stared into his eyes, so gray they reminded her of the swirling storm clouds she’d seen on the afternoon she left Back Stage. The image of the man on horseback on the stormy highway flashed through her mind. Once again she was frozen, the car spiraling out of control on the dark, rain-slick highway. Her stomach lurched.
Oh, God. It was him! The rider she’d swerved to avoid! But how?
Blue sky above clashed with green foliage and red rock in a kaleidoscope of dizzying colors as the world around her slipped away. Halle clenched her eyes shut, fighting back nausea.
He caressed her cheek. “What is wrong?”
His face blurred as nausea rolled through her. “I saw you the other night on the highway. Lightning struck. Then, you were there on the horse. I tried to avoid hitting you.” That was her last memory before darkness claimed her.
Ride The Wild Wind (Time Travel Historical Romance) Page 4