Blackwolf's Redemption. Sandra Marton
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Blackwolf said “good girl” as she tumbled into his waiting arms, she didn’t give a damn for gender issues.
She was simply happy to be alive.
“Th-thank you,” she said in a shaky whisper.
It was all she could manage, but it was enough.
Jesse nodded, held her in the circle of his arms and wondered if he ought to tell her she’d surprised him with her courage.
No. Not now. There was no point to it. Why compliment her for creating a situation in which she’d risked both their lives? Besides, they had to get out of here before the storm hit with full force. It was going to be a bad one; the signs were all there. The dark sky, the wind, the thunder and lightning…
This would be a storm that would turn the lazy creek that ran between the canyon and his ranch into a raging torrent.
So, any second now, he’d let go of the woman in his arms.
But not just yet.
She needed to share his body warmth. Her teeth were chattering; her skin was icy. She might be going into shock. Anything was possible in the aftermath of danger.
He’d seen men—trained warriors—face the worst kind of imminent death and survive, then all but collapse when the danger was over.
Sienna Cummings had just come through that type of situation.
He’d made it sound as if getting down the mountain required nothing but her compliance. He knew better. The descent had called for guts and determination. She’d shown both.
Of course, she’d gotten up the mountain in the first place and that was almost as difficult. How had she done it? That was still the $64,000 question.
Damned if he could come up with an answer.
Maybe somebody had helped her. Climbed with her. That guy she’d mentioned. Jim or John. Jack. Yeah. Jack. Had he gone up with her? And then, what, left her?
What kind of man would abandon a woman that way?
Endless questions. No answers. None he could answer right now, at any rate, not with the storm almost on them and Sienna still trembling in his arms.
He could feel the race of her heart. Feel the soft whisper of her breath against his skin. He gathered her even closer, leaned his chin on the top of her head. Her hair was soft; it smelled of rain and, very faintly, of lilacs.
“Easy,” he said. “We’re down. You’re okay.”
He wasn’t sure she’d heard him. Then she drew a shuddering breath.
“I didn’t think we’d make it.”
“Blackwolf Mountain and I have known each other a very long time.”
She gave a little laugh. “A good thing.”
Not really, he thought, but she had no need to know that.
“You all right now?”
“I’m fine.”
She wasn’t. She was still shaking, her face devoid of color. And she was a mess.
Her hair was a mass of curls. He’d already seen the bump on her head. She’d broken her fingernails. Her jeans were torn and so was her T-shirt. Sweat and now the steadily increasing rain had plastered them to her, outlining her body. It was delicate but as lush and feminine as a man could want.
He could feel her belly and her thighs against his. Could feel her breasts pressed against his chest, the pebbled nipples seeming to burn against his naked flesh. The pebbling told him she was chilled. And braless. And that her breasts were gently uptilted as if in readiness for a man’s mouth.
He shut his eyes, willing the all-too-vivid image away, deliberately replacing it with an image of her face. That was safer.
She had a pretty face, but more than that, an intelligent one. Bottom line, she looked nothing like a thief or a flower child still caught up by the nonsense of the prior decade.
What she looked like was a woman a man would want in his bed. Not a man like him. His secrets were too dark; the shadows that engulfed him too ugly. But, yes, some man would want a woman like this.
He felt himself stir against her. He pulled back, hoping she hadn’t felt his erection. Goddamn it, he thought coldly. What in hell was this?
He had, absolutely, been without a woman far too long. There was no other reason Sienna Cummings would turn him on. Besides, the facts were simple. She had invaded his land, climbed his mountain.
All he wanted was to send her on her way.
“Okay,” he said gruffly, dropping his arms to his sides, “let’s get mov—”
A roar of thunder drowned him out. Lightning sizzled across the sky. White lightning. And as if someone had hit a switch, the dark clouds opened up, spewing torrential rain. Instantly, they were soaked from head to foot. His intruder gave a little shriek and raised her hands as if to shelter under them. The gesture was useless, but he couldn’t blame her. The temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees and the rain was ice cold and as sharp as needles.
Jesse grabbed her arm. She broke free, swung in a circle.
“What are you doing?” he yelled. It was the only way to make himself heard over the rain.
“Looking for my people.”
“I told you, your boyfriend abandoned you.”
“No. That’s impossible!”
“Listen, lady, you want to argue, argue with yourself. I’m going to head for shelter.”
She looked at him. He wanted to laugh. The last creature he’d ever seen this wet and woebegone had been a calf that had wandered into a stream.
“You coming with me or not?”
She gave a dejected nod. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The piercing sound carried over the roar of the rain and Cloud came thundering toward them. Sienna shrieked and jumped behind Jesse. That did it; the laughter he’d choked back a moment ago erupted in a snort.
“It’s a horse,” he said. “Not a mountain lion.”
“Don’t you have a truck?”
She was impossible. Jesse mounted the stallion, reached down and held his out his hand.
“You want transportation, this is it. You coming with me? Yes or no?”
She stared up at him. Then she clasped his hand and hoisted herself onto the animal’s back. A good thing, too. The last thing he’d have wanted to do was wrestle a wet, unwilling woman onto the saddleless back of an equally wet horse.
“Hold on.”
Sienna blinked. Hold on? To what? There was no saddle, there was nothing but man and horse.
“Put your arms around me. That’s it. Tighter, unless you want to make this ride hanging on to Cloud’s tail.”
He was right. Besides, a few minutes ago, his arms had been around her. Stupid to hesitate now, she thought, and wrapped her arms around his waist.
His skin was smooth and wet and warm. She felt the taut muscles of his belly contract under her fingers. It made her breath catch and she started to pull back, but at just that moment, he dug his heels into the animal’s flanks and the horse surged forward as if he were going to leap into the air and fly.
Sienna gave a muffled shriek and tightened her grip on Jesse until her breasts and belly were pressed tightly against his back.
“Good girl,” he shouted.
Sienna rolled her eyes. Another metaphorical sexist pat on the head, but what could she do about it? And, really, what did it matter?
If this was all happening, she’d