Deep In The Heart Of Texas. Linda Warren
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brown eyes. “Solitude is my fervent prayer. And I don’t need your help.”
At the harshness of his words, all her hopes vanished. The man was hard as nails, just as her father had said. Now what? She bit her lip and tried to think of something, anything.
As the hope in her eyes died, he felt a pang of conscience. He moved away from the table. Dammit! He wasn’t going to help her. It was too risky.
But could he really push her out the back door and let her fend for herself? She was a city girl, right down to those long manicured nails. Within minutes she’d be lost and victim to every wild animal out there, including Spikes. He wouldn’t treat any living creature that way. So he wouldn’t do it to Miranda Maddox, either.
He released a long breath, admitting that he had no choice. She now knew Spikes was her kidnapper. Which meant she’d become a liability to Spikes, so he couldn’t afford to let her live.
Damn the woman.
He couldn’t have another death on his conscience.
Damn the woman.
“All right,” he said without expression. “I’ll take you back to your father.”
“You will?” Her eyes grew bright with renewed hope.
“On several conditions,” he added.
She frowned. “Like what?”
“You will do exactly what I tell you to do. You will not whine or complain. And most of all, there will be no tears and no questions.”
She gritted her teeth at his arrogance, but answered, “Yes, fine. I can do that.”
He wasn’t through. “It’s going to be cold out there without much shelter. Wild animals, from coyotes to bobcats, will be a constant danger. Not to mention Spikes, who will be on our trail as soon as he realizes we’ve gone. I need to know if you can handle the rough terrain and the conditions and follow orders.”
She stared at him with wide troubled eyes. Her first instinct was to lie, anything to get back to her father, but she had a feeling the hermit would see through it.
“I’m not sure,” she answered honestly, trying to think of some evidence or argument. She could tell him about shopping nonstop for twelve hours in Paris. No, that sounded frivolous. Or she could tell him about skiing in Colorado, but then, most of her time was spent at the lodge. Or she could tell him about the time she and Jane hired a personal trainer to get in shape. No, that only lasted two days. God, her life sounded meaningless. She’d never thought so before, but now she was looking at herself differently, and she didn’t like what she was seeing. There had to be more to her than being a rich man’s daughter. There had to be.
Her eyes touched his. “I’m not used to the wild outdoors, but I’ll try,” was all she could promise.
“Try?” he boomed at her, his fist hitting the table with a loud thump. “You’ll do more than try. You’ll do it—because I’m not taking a whimpering whiny female out into those woods with Spikes and his high-powered rifle on my heels.”
She swallowed hard and tried to quell the anger growing inside her, but it didn’t work. “What do you want me to say?” she snapped. “That I’m Annie Oakley or something? Well, I’m not. I promise to try my very best. That’s all I can do.”
The minute the words were out, she regretted them. But no one had ever talked to her the way he had and she resented it. She might be at his mercy, but she didn’t have to endure his insults. Now she wondered if her reaction had ruined any chance of his helping her.
He straightened, a thoughtful expression on his face. The woman had fire in her. Good. He was beginning to wonder if Clyde Maddox’s daughter was a meek little daddy’s girl with no will of her own. She was going to need all that fire, plus guts and strength to handle the hours ahead. “Well, that’s all I ask,” he murmured. “Just be prepared for the worst.”
Miranda frowned, uncertain whether it was wise to put her life in his hands. But what choice did she have? It was either the hermit or Spikes.
“One more thing,” he said. “I will only take you to within a mile of the ranch. From there, you’ll go in alone. I will see no one and talk to no one. And I definitely do not want anything from your father. Understood?”
She nodded, but had to ask, “Why are you helping me?”
His dark eyes grew pensive. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “Maybe it’s the easiest way to get rid of you, or maybe I just don’t want your death on my conscience.”
“I didn’t know you had a conscience.” The remark slipped out before she could stop it.
His eyes held hers for an agonizing second. “You’d better thank God I still do.”
She had no idea what he meant by those words, and she wasn’t going to ask. They were partners now, together against Spikes. Without understanding how she knew it, she sensed she could trust the hermit. He wouldn’t let her down.
THE NEXT FEW MINUTES were hectic. The hermit packed a backpack and dropped some clothes on the table. “Put these on,” he ordered. “They belonged to my great-uncle. I inherited this place from him.” His eyes swept the length of her body. “He was a small man, so they should just about fit you.”
There was no interest or curiosity in his eyes. Not that she wanted him to be attracted to her, but she’d never had a man look at her in such a detached manner. Why was she thinking such crazy thoughts? She had one goal—to get home safely. His disinterest in her as a woman was going to make the next two days much easier.
She picked up the clothes. Her nose wrinkled in revulsion as she examined the woolly long johns, socks, knit cap and big coat. They smelled of mothballs. She opened her mouth to protest when she caught his eye. He was waiting for her to complain. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Where can I change?” she asked with a secret grin.
“Look around you,” he replied sarcastically. “Where do you think you can change?”
Miranda glanced nervously around the small room. “Where’s the bathroom?”
He suppressed a curse. “It’s outside. It’s called an outhouse.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling stupid. Naturally he wouldn’t have a bathroom. What was she thinking?
“I’ll turn my back,” he informed her. “It’s all the privacy you’re going to get.”
She shifted from one foot to the other. “I really do have to use the bathroom.”
He grunted. How many times had Sheila said those same words? Whenever they were at a party or some special function she’d always had to fix her hair or her makeup. He immediately stopped those memories. He hadn’t thought of her in years and he wouldn’t think of her now.
“It’s out the back door,” he said hurriedly. “Make a run for it and come right back. I’ll keep an eye on Spikes. He can’t see the outhouse from his position.”
Walking as fast as she could, Miranda followed the narrow path to the small building. Inside was a long wooden seat with two holes cut into it. She pulled down her jeans and sat on one of them. To her surprise there was toilet paper on a roll beside her. Oddly the primitive conditions didn’t bother her, but she kept her eye out for tiny furry animals. She quickly did her business and returned to the cabin.
Back inside, the hermit handed her the extra clothes and turned around. She hesitated for only for a moment before stripping out of her clothes, then pulling on the long johns and socks. Putting her jeans and top back on, she wondered why she trusted this man. She’d only known him an hour or so. Suddenly she realized he hadn’t even told her his name.
Slipping into the big coat, which came down to her knees, she said, “I’m finished.”
He