Carol Arens - Wed To The Montana Cowboy

That ought to be a comfort, but the hair rose on the back of her neck and the goose bumps on her arms.

Tom, she had to remind herself, would not have sent her off with an unsavory fellow.

“Any beast or ruffian shows up, you run to me, snuggle in good and tight.” He opened his arms. She scooted away. “Come on, girlie, give it a practice.”

“If the time comes, I’ll know what to do.” She eyed the iron kettle sitting on a rock beside the fire.

“I don’t know about you, but I plan to keep good and warm tonight,” he mumbled.

His gaze wandered over her, slow and overly familiar. He scooted his rump uncomfortably close.

Suddenly his gaze jerked up, spotting something over her shoulder.

Her “protector’s” expression hardened. His lips peeled back in a snarl.

“Move away from the woman,” came a deep voice from behind her.

Oh, goodness. They were not as isolated as she had assumed. An intruder had come upon them without crunching a leaf.

She turned to see one of the ruffians Mike had warned of...a very large ruffian.

He had to be more than six and a half feet tall! In a moment, when she stood to defend herself she would have to look up at him.

Firelight reflected off his solid-looking form. The evening breeze blew streams of long blond hair in front of his face. Golden highlights flickered in the strands. It distracted her that his hair gleamed with cleanliness.

What kind of ruffian had clean hair and the build of a handsome Viking?

It didn’t matter what kind. A ruffian was a ruffian...and he was threatening her guide.

Her guide who, faced with danger, did not open his arms to protect her as he’d promised.

“Go find your own way to get warm tonight.” Mike stood, growled and balled his fists, clearly ready to protect his own pitiful self.

The intruder, rather than backing off, took several steps toward Mike.

Mike scuttled backward, nearly tripping over a large rock.

Screech began to screech when Mike began to holler about the man having no claim on her.

And, by the dickens, no man did!

Since the men were railing at each other and paying no attention to her, it was an easy matter to seize the iron bean kettle and swing it at the giant’s head from behind.

He crumpled to his knees, grasping his temples in his large fists.

Mike did not take that moment to defend her. Instead of tying up the disabled villain, he dashed for her trunk. He lifted the unlocked lid. Somehow, he seemed to know exactly where she kept her money. He plucked it out.

She ran after him, swinging the kettle, but he was up on his horse before she could do more than land a blow to his calf.

In his rush to get away, he left the older horse, the one she had been riding, and both saddles.

In all fairness, the animal and the abandoned belongings now belonged to her.

She would name the horse Hoodwinked.

“Screech! Be quiet!”

The bird obeyed for a full two seconds before declaring, “Uh-oh.”

This was a fine mess! Abandoned in the forest with a wounded criminal. Lost with no idea how to get to Moreland Ranch.

At least this fellow couldn’t steal her money. And, the kettle gripped tightly in her fist, she would fight for her virtue.

Let the man make a move, let him utter one untoward thing, and she’d smash his nose. She would batter his ears and knock out his teeth.

He looked up at her, silent. The light of the campfire revealed the intense blue of his eyes.

What kind of brigand had eyes like that? And perfect white teeth...and clean hair?

Surely his voice would give him away as an evildoer. Curse words would probably accent his every utterance.

“You’re a fair hand with a kettle, ma’am.”

“And I’m not afraid to use it again.”

He touched the back of his head. His long fingers came away streaked with blood. He swayed on his knees.

She hurried to Mike’s abandoned saddle packs, looking for some sort of binding and found a short section of rope.

“Are you twins?” the man asked. “Or just one lady?”

“Triplets... Give me your wrists and don’t try anything.”

“I’ll try not to be sick.”

His hands hung limp at his sides so she snatched them up and made quick work of tethering them.

All at once he lurched forward. His weight knocked her to the ground.

By the saints, this was a muddle. Not only was she lost in the wilderness, but she now had a questionable man’s bleeding head cradled on her bosom.

She wriggled and pushed until the man’s head lay in her lap. Humph! He had long eyelashes, sandy and dark at the same time...and lovely hair that she wanted to... Well, quite honestly, she wanted to stroke it.

Perhaps she should have paid attention to Aunt Eunice, who had announced that she would come to ruin in Montana.

Still, she wasn’t ruined, at least not as long as her captive remained passed out.

A strand of hair streaked with blood lay across his cheek. She brushed it aside with her thumb and felt the rough scrape of his beard under her skin.

She had never been this close to a full-bodied man before, had never smelled the scent of warm masculine breath so close to her face. She certainly had never pressed her hand on one’s chest, feeling muscles and ribs rise and fall.

This, and she could only be honest, was a handsome man.

And as long as she was being honest, what was there to indicate that he had been up to no good?

Her assumption, was all. Thinking back on it, Mike was the one who had been taking liberties.

This man had simply demanded that Mike back away.

Oh, dear, had she beaned her defender? All of a sudden she felt horrible. If his intention had been to protect, she owed him a great deal.

Then again, if he had only wanted to take Mike’s place, she still owed him a great deal.

From a distance not far off, a wolf howled. She glanced at the smear of blood on the man’s cheek, hoping that the scent would not attract predators.

The safety and the warmth that the fire provided would not last all night.

“Wake up, mister.”

She gently patted his cheek but he did not stir.

No matter who he was, she wanted him awake.

By the look of him, and the solid weight of bone and muscle lying across her, he was a fellow who would be able to fend off a wolf without trouble...maybe even a bear.

“I’m sorry I hit you. Please wake up.”

His eyeballs moved under the lids, but other than that he did not stir.

After a while, the fire grew dimmer. The warmth receded and a bitter chill rushed to fill its place. It would haunt her conscience forever if she allowed her captive to freeze to death.

She shrugged her arms out of her coat, draped it over her shoulders, then spread the long tails over her hero or assailant.

It only covered him to his knees, but some warmth was beginning to build between their bodies.

A very curious warmth. It seemed to come from within her.

If she survived until morning, she would think more about it. Just now, the events of the day had worn her through.

She huddled over the man and tried to relax, but she was more than half-certain that eyes peered at her from the brush.

Chapter Three

Lantree scented a woman.

He cracked open his eyes but saw things through a dark blur. Yep, his surroundings had been doused in oil. Objects swayed like pond grass underwater.

Apparently his mind was still feeling the effects of the blow to his head, which was to be expected. In all likelihood the woman whose face swam in his smoky vision was not real.

That didn’t keep him from finding her interesting.

She was asleep with her face nodding over him. It seemed that his head was lying in her lap and they were both huddling under some sort of covering.