California Caress

Gasping for breath, she attempted to squirm out from under him. In her struggles, her foot smashed into the horse’s rear leg. Already skittish from the storm, the contact made the gray rear up on its hind legs. Another streak of lightning illuminated the magnificent stance of the horse pawing the air.

Its front hooves hit the dirt with a crash. Again, the gray bucked, its back hooves shooting out to catch Tubbs in the temple. Just as he was reaching for Hope, he toppled lifelessly into the mud.

With a cry, she shoved the body away. She was shaking badly as she raised herself to her feet. She had taken no more than a step when her legs buckled beneath her.

Her knees hit the ground in a bone-jarring collision that made her eyes water. Her hands were buried up to the wrists in mud. In her mind, the sight of Tubbs being struck by the deadly hooves played over and over again.

Hugging her arms around her stomach, she leaned forward as nausea racked her stomach. When she was done, she numbly collapsed atop the cold wet mud.

How long she stayed like that, she didn’t know. It seemed that for an eternity the rain lashed at her face and neck, soaking her already wet clothes, but it might actually have been only a few minutes. She’d lost all track of time.

At the feel of a hand on her shoulder, she screamed. So convinced had she been it was Tubbs, come back from the dead to seek his revenge, that she almost wept with relief to find herself staring into a pair of familiar sea-green eyes.

Without thinking, Hope threw herself headlong into his outstretched arms. “Drake! I—I didn’t think you’d come,” she sobbed into his shoulder. The tears that had been building now burst from her. Desperately, she clung to the warm strength pressing against her.

“Shhh. I’m here, Hope. I’m here.” Drake wrapped his arms around her back and cradled her against his shoulder. His hands stroked the mud-streaked hair that limply hung to the small of her back.

“He tr-tried to kill me, D-Drake,” she whispered against his throat, her voice trembling almost as much as her body. “He tried to strangle me. I couldn’t st-stop him.”

“Hush, sunshine,” Drake murmured in her ear as he hugged her close. “You don’t have to talk about it. It’s all over now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

With a ragged sigh, she nodded. Instinctively, her arms tightened around his neck when his weight shifted.

“Come on. Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.” Instead of leading her, as she had expected, Drake bent and swept her up into his arms, offering a harbor of safety unlike any she had known before.

Drake turned toward the deserted shack, rainwater pouring down his harshly chiseled face. His arms supported her weight easily, as though he was carrying nothing larger than a small child. His boots squished in the mud with each long stride until he stopped at the shack’s door. He had only to nudge it with his foot to send it flying open.

He stepped into the center of the room and tenderly lowered her to her feet. The feel of his wet, sinewy body slipping against hers made her tingle.

Hope shivered. She was soaked to the skin, he clothes thoroughly drenched. The pieces of hair that insistently escaped the leather thong at her neck were etched with dirt and plastered to her face. She pushed the filthy tresses from her brow as she returned his appraising glance.

He guided her over to the single chair beneath the window and pushed her down onto the cane seat. Like a lifeless puppet, she complied.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he promised. His eyes were dark, their expression unreadable, as he reached down to caress her muddy cheek. The touch was wonderful and much too fleeting as he sighed, pulled away, then turned for the door.

Hope sat, shivering with emotion as much as cold, waiting expectantly for the gunslinger’s return. It wasn’t long before, true to his word, he was back, almost as quickly as he’d gone. A saddlebag was tucked beneath one arm, a faded bedroll beneath the other.

“Are you all right?” he asked, as he dropped his burde

n onto the dirty floor. A cloud of dust billowed up from the floor.

Hope nodded, her smile weak. Now that Drake was near, her strength was slowly beginning to return. “Yes. I just—I just need you to hold me.”

Drake plucked the wet hat from his head and tossed it into a dusty corner. All traces of concern were suddenly gone from both his voice and his expression, replaced by an inexplicable warmth. Insistent fingers wrapped around Hope’s wrist. Before she knew what he was doing, he had tugged her into his tight embrace.

Hope savored the contact. She could feel the furious beat of his heart beneath her cheek. His clothes were as wet and dirty as her own, but she didn’t mind. The warmth of his body made up for it.

“I thought I’d lost you, sunshine,” he whispered in her hair, his voice so soft she had to strain to hear him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.”

A nervous laugh escaped her. “I was scared to death myself. That man was going to kill me—then you. I still don’t know why.” Her voice was strong compared to the weakness that invaded her knees. Instinctively, her arms tightened around him. Drake’s body responded in kind and she was rewarded with a deep whiff of his thoroughly masculine scent.

“Tubbs was a sick man,” Drake said, his tone serious. “His depravity was topped only by the man who hired him.”

“Hired him?” she gasped, pulling slightly away to stare into his eyes. “Someone hired him to kidnap me and then kill us? Why? Who would do such a thing?”

“My brother,” he replied solemnly.

Hope shook her head, her eyes wide. “No. No, it can’t be true. Nobody would do something like that to his own brother I tell you.”