Gail Barrett - To Protect a Princess

Then she struggled to pull herself upright, but Logan was running toward her, making the ropes jump under her feet. She slipped, shrieked, fell against the handrail. One leg slid through a gap.

Her heart spasmed. Time stalled.

But Logan grabbed her arm and yanked her up. “Go!” he shouted and pushed her forward. “Go, go, go!”

She raced off the bridge, headed for the rocks. Panic fueled her steps.

And then the dynamite blew.

The explosion boomed, jolted the ground, and she staggered, lost her balance, nearly fell. And then a bigger blast roared in her ears.

Logan shoved her against the rocks, flattened himself against her, covering her body with his. The ground vibrated, reverberated through her feet, rumbling into a fierce drum that rattled her chest.

Her face was mashed against Logan’s chest. Sharp stones dug into her back. The explosion crackled, zinged like bullets firing around them, and then dirt drizzled onto their heads.

He leaned harder against her, sheltering her head with his arms, protecting her from the falling debris. And she clutched his arms, digging her fingers into his biceps, trying to curl herself into his skin.

Long moments later, the noise finally faded, and the echo in her ears began to ease. “Is it over?” she asked, her heart still racing.

“Yeah.”

She dragged at the dusty air and coughed. God, that was close. He could have died out there with those outlaws firing at him—and it would have been her fault. But he was safe now, safe. She shivered hard, tried to calm her quivering heart.

But he still didn’t move. And she was suddenly aware of how close he was. His muscled thighs crowded hers, his strong arms bracketed her head. He smelled safe, strong—like dusty flannel and warm male skin. His ragged breath fanned her neck.

Her pulse sped up. Her shaky breath snagged in her lungs. She could feel the heat of him through the layers of clothes, the hard muscles pressed against hers.

Hard everything. The intimacy shocked her, excited her. And then he shifted, and a sudden heat shot through her blood.

She tightened her grip on his arms. He slowly lifted his head.

His dark eyes locked on to hers. He was close, so close. And she gazed back at him, trapped by the dark, raw heat in his eyes. She traced the hollows of his face, the black scruff coating his jaw, that sexy, masculine mouth. His hat had fallen off, and his thick, black hair was wild now, dusted with dirt. The sheer maleness of him made her nerves rush.

His gaze dropped to her lips and stalled. Her breath grew erratic, her blood skipped crazily through her veins. And then his gaze caught hers, and she was lost in those dark, dark eyes.

“Damn,” he muttered, and slanted his head. And then his lips claimed hers. She stiffened, electrified by the feel of his mouth on hers, the rasp of his whiskered cheek. Thrills rose from her belly, shot through her nerves.

He placed his hand on her jaw, changed the angle of his mouth, ran his tongue along her closed lips. Pleasure spiraled through her, and she gasped.

He slipped his tongue inside her mouth, aligned her closer against him. And her body exploded with sensation, fierce waves of it, like aftershocks from that dynamite blast.

Stunned, feeling as if she’d vaulted back into that explosion, she clung to his biceps, slid her hands up those massive arms. He made a low, rough sound, pulled her hips tighter against him. And pleasure burst through her at the intimate contact, shocking, drugging pleasure, making her want to get closer, then closer yet.

Her knees trembled. Her head whirled as he deepened the kiss, sweeping her mouth with his tongue. She’d never felt anything so wild, so glorious. So free.

She moaned, wanting more. Needing more. She was lost. She didn’t care. She didn’t want these feelings to end.

But he pulled back and lifted his head. His uneven breath mingled with hers. And she could only stare back at him, shocked, stunned, amazed.

He dropped his hands and stepped back, his gaze still burning on hers. And then he turned, picked up his hat, his movements slow, stiff. He banged the hat on his thigh to dislodge the dust, shoved it back onto his head.

His gaze cut to hers again, and she knew instantly that something had changed. His eyes were still hot, still narrowed, but not just with hunger now.

He was furious. The anger vibrated right out of him and charged through the air.

Her heart plunged. She knew what he was thinking. That kiss had been reckless, wildly inappropriate. She’d broken every Roma rule.

Daredevil, her people called her. Too impulsive to be a princess.

Maybe they were right.

A lifetime of condemnation swept through her, and her face flamed. She hugged her arms, searched for something to say. “Is…is the bridge gone?”

His mouth flattened more, carving deep brackets in those heavily stubbled cheeks. “Hell if I know.” His voice was bitter, rough. “But my sanity sure is.”

He turned, stalked around the rock in the direction of the bridge, anger pounding his strides.

She hitched out her breath and watched him go. But her mind was still spinning, her body pulsing from that delirious kiss.

Oh, God. She pressed her fingers to her lips, sagged back against the rocks. That kiss had been wrong, she knew that. Wrong for a princess. Wrong for a respectable Gypsy woman. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

But heaven help her, she didn’t care. She only wanted to kiss him again.

He’d lost his mind. He’d gone over the edge, spiraled out of control, broken 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?