To Protect a Princess. Gail Barrett
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his most critical rule.
“I’m sorry about your horse,” Dara said from beside him as they hiked up the trail from the bridge.
Logan grunted. The missing gelding was the least of his problems right now.
“You don’t think he’s lost, do you?”
“He won’t go far.” His words came out brusque, rougher than he’d intended, and he clamped his already rigid jaw. She didn’t deserve his bad temper. It wasn’t her fault he’d lost his self-control.
But damn, he was angry. Angry that he couldn’t complete that freight run. Angry that he was trapped in the mountains with another vulnerable woman. Angry that he’d given in to the insane desire to kiss her.
And hungered to do it again.
He hissed, struggled to get a hold on his ragged temper as he strode up the dusty path. What was wrong with him? Bad enough that he was stuck with her for the next few days, that he was responsible for keeping her safe. He couldn’t compound the problem by doing something he would regret.
His body wouldn’t regret it.
He slid his gaze to her sweet, full breasts, and his blood surged. This woman had riveted him since the moment he’d seen her. And she’d felt better than he’d imagined—soft, sultry. And the way she’d reacted to that kiss, shivering, rocking against him, making him burn for more.
Disgusted at himself, he picked up his pace on the rocky slope, battled the need that pounded his veins. So they had chemistry. Staggering chemistry. The kind of chemistry that tempted a man to break every rule and blind himself to the past.
It didn’t matter.
He had no business touching Dara. Not now. Not ever. She was off-limits to him. Prohibida.
And they had a treacherous trek ahead of them. It would take days of hard riding to get her across the mountain to another town. He couldn’t afford a distraction that could get them killed.
He lifted his head, determined to get his mind on track, but a flash of light across the river made him stop. He frowned, focused on the trees crowning the opposite ridge, felt the skin shiver in the back of his neck. Was someone there? Those renegades should have given up, headed down to a village by now. Or had he only imagined that flash?
The wind rose, keening through the stark stone canyon, spiking the air with the threat of rain. He narrowed his gaze on the woods, remembered the plume of dust he’d seen on the trail.
And a deep sense of foreboding rippled through him. He wasn’t a fanciful man. He’d bet his gelding there was someone else on that ridge. Which meant he had to keep his wits about him—and end this madness with Dara now.
He turned his attention to the woman beside him. The breeze whipped her silky hair loose, and she tucked the stray strands behind her ears.
“Look, Dara.” Her eyes swiveled to his, and he gentled his voice. “I’m sorry about that—” that moment of mind-blasting pleasure “—for what happened back there.”
A blush flared on her cheeks, turning her skin a dusty rose, and she folded her arms under her breasts. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Sure it was.” He could have—should have—stepped away. He rubbed the back of his neck, appalled by how badly he’d lost control. “It won’t happen again.”
“I understand.”
She sounded hurt, not relieved, and he frowned. “Do you?”
“Sure.” Her gaze skidded away. “You thought I was reckless.”
He bit off a laugh. “Darlin’, that was the entire problem. I wasn’t thinking at all. You made me burn.”
Her blush deepened, but her eyes locked on his. “I did, too,” she whispered. “I thought it was…amazing.”
Heat rushed to his loins. A hot surge of hunger clawed at his gut. And the desire to go to her, to stroke those soft, ripe curves, to ravage her lips, her mouth, slammed through him so hard that his hands shook.
He hauled in a breath to cool his blood, but he couldn’t disguise the need in his eyes, the ache that was pounding his veins. Everything male in him reacted to the promise in her voice, that kiss.
Against his better judgment, he stepped close, too close, forcing her to look up to meet his eyes. He inhaled her scent, felt heat rising from her velvet skin, hungered to bury himself in her warmth. “You’re playing with fire, darlin’.” His voice scraped the quiet air.
He reached out, stroked his palm up that silky throat, traced the delicate line of her jaw. Her breath hitched, her pulse stumbled under his thumb, sending a rush of lust through his blood. And her dark, wild eyes stayed locked on his—mesmerizing, aroused.
Fire blazed inside him, a deep, carnal pull that incinerated his nerves. “But be damned careful what you offer,” he warned her, and his voice turned huskier still. “Because I’ll take it. Don’t think I’m better than any other man.”
Especially when they were out here alone.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth, flicked back up. Desire burned in those witchy eyes, along with a hint of doubt. And that stopped him. He despised losing control, liked being manipulated even less.
He dropped his hand, stepped back, putting some badly needed air between them. He knew all about guilt. He dreamed it, breathed it, shouldered the crushing weight of it day after relentless day. And he’d be damned if he’d add more regrets to the list.
No matter how tempting this woman was.
His temper rising again, he turned on his heel, tried to pull his mind away from the need. She’d been warned. Now he had more important things to worry about, like how to keep her safe.
The trail wound along the bluff above the plunging gorge, through tall, parched clumps of grass. He picked up the pace, anxious to find his horse, feeling too exposed on the open cliff.
But then another flash of light caught his eye.
He stopped, scanned the opposite cliff. He hadn’t imagined that flash this time. That had been sunlight glinting off glass.
He watched, his lungs still now, his pulse drumming a slow, steady beat. The wind teased the hairs on the nape of his neck, ruffled the tufts of dried grass. There was no movement, no sign of life on the opposite ridge.
“What’s wrong?” Dara asked, stopping beside him. “Are those men still there?”
“I doubt it.” He didn’t move his gaze from the trees. “They’re probably heading to the nearest bar by now.” They’d lie in wait, drink up their courage, plan to ambush them when they came off the hills.
Someone was out there, though. He knew it, as surely as he knew how to breathe. He scanned the cliffs again, the sunbaked earth sloping to the blown-up bridge. Nothing moved. But he’d learned the hard way not to ignore his instincts. And his nerves screamed that someone was on their trail.
Someone more deadly than the local thugs.
“Is it…there isn’t someone else out there?”
He caught the anxiety in her voice, and his heart rolled. He shifted his gaze to her. “You have reason to think there’d be?”
“No.” Her dark eyes slid from his.
Was she lying? He studied the nervous pull of her lips, the worry creasing her delicate brow. And his suspicion rose. If she’d led him into a trap…
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” she asked, her voice pitched higher now. “I mean, nobody can get across since you blew up the bridge.”
“There’s another place,” he said, still not taking his eyes off her. “Another bridge about an hour ahead.”
She nibbled her lip, met his gaze,