Carol Finch - The Ranger

Shiloh was relieved to realize that, thanks to Hawk’s teasing, she was regaining her playfulness and self-assurance. But of course, this wasn’t the same as following proper protocol at a social ball. She’d felt ill equipped to play the role of a Southern aristocrat in New Orleans. Yet, here on the edge of nowhere, where only the basic rules of survival applied, she didn’t have to be anyone except herself.

Hawk wasn’t a sophisticated suitor trying to make a grand impression on her—or vice versa. He was the competent companion who accompanied her from one misadventure to the next. They didn’t have the time or the need to put on airs. They had their hands full just trying to stay alive.

“Break’s over,” Hawk said before he scooped her up again.

Several minutes later Shiloh nearly squeezed the stuffing out of him in tense anxiety because he set her on her feet on the highest peak of Ghost Ridge. The wind buffeted her, threatening to launch her from her perilous perch. Dark though it was, she could see the spooky silhouettes of boulders that created eerie formations rising from the inky-black depths of the chasm. Her fear of height broadsided her and her heart leaped into triple time, making it difficult to breathe.

“I’ve got you,” Hawk whispered against the side of her neck. As reassurance, he tightened his grip on her waist. “In daylight this is an awe-inspiring view because you can see for miles. It’s little wonder that my people believe this is where the guardian spirits congregate to oversee the world.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she said, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. “Can we get on with this before I lose what nerve I have left?”

“Just so you know, Shi, you’ve impressed the hell out of me,” he confided. “You’ve met every challenge like a trooper.”

“Not that I’ve had a choice,” she replied, begrudgingly pleased with his compliment. She forced herself to open her eyes and survey the dark precipice. “I appreciate the fact that you returned to rescue me. You’re still a man, of course, and I’ll continue to hold that against you,” she added wryly, “But I’m willing to overlook that basic flaw. For now.”

“You’ll be cursing me in the next breath,” he foretold. He gestured toward the drop-off that had unnerved the horses earlier. “You’ll have to put faith in me and leap into my arms, Shiloh. There’s no other way since you sprained your ankle.”

Shiloh swallowed uneasily when she glanced down where he pointed. Her stomach dropped twelve feet.

“This isn’t going to be one bit of fun,” she said.

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