Beth Cornelison - Cowboy Christmas Rescue - Rescuing the Witness / Rescuing the Bride

She mewled a weak protest, then leaned into the kiss, her lips as eager and desperate as his. When he raised his mouth from hers, she met his gaze with haunted eyes. The emotion in them said what she refused to admit. She still wanted him, still needed him, still loved him.

But she quickly pulled her head away from his grip, and the tenderness in her expression was replaced with hard determination and pragmatism.

“Enough of that,” she chastened. “Grab the rope. We g-gotta get out of this water before this branch g-gives way.”

He jerked a nod, and clinging awkwardly to the tree trunk with one arm, he began tugging at the knots in the rope. “That was a foolish risk to take, babe—” he huffed a sigh “—but thanks.”

Her brow furrowed. “Like I’d stand by and watch you drown? I had no choice!”

He cut a wry glance at her. “You’re killing me with your sentimentality.”

Growling under her breath, she said, “I just meant—” She shook her head and batted his hands away from the knot at her waist. “Can we save the argument for later?”

“I have no desire to argue with you, Kara.” Undeterred by her swat, he slid his fingers along the rope, feeling for the configuration she’d devised to secure it around her.

She gasped as his hand moved between her legs.

“Brady, stop it!” She pushed again at his arm, sputtering when the wind blew a wave into her face.

“Used to be, you’d say, ‘Don’t stop.’ Remember those days, babe?” He sure did, and the memory stirred a heat low in his belly. “Tangled up in the sheets rather than some old rope?”

Her answering glare said she wasn’t amused. “Not the time, Sheriff.”

He pressed his mouth in a grim line. He missed the sense of humor she used to share freely with him. The easy camaraderie that helped them through difficult times and filled their quiet moments alone with laughter. Resigned to her all-business mode, he addressed the situation with a similar efficiency. “You did a great job with the sling you made. No point untying it.” He fumbled one-handed to unfasten his belt buckle, and her eyes widened and grew smoky. So she wasn’t immune to him, after all.

“Brady...” Her tone held a warning.

“Settle down, babe. You’ve made your point. But rather than undo your sling, I’m going to fasten my belt through the loop at your waist.”

Her tense expression eased, and she bobbed a nod. With shaking hands, Kara helped him poke the leather belt under the rope. When he cinched it more tightly, her hips were tugged more snugly against his.

Kara gave a breathy little gasp as he settled into the intimate position and wrapped an arm around her to bring her chest against his.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Her eyes narrowed with accusation, but he didn’t miss the ragged flutter of her breath against his cheek. Or the throbbing pulse in her neck. Or the widening of her pupils. She was as aroused by the contact of their bodies as he was.

“So sue me. I won’t apologize for the fact that you turn me on, even in the worst of circumstances.” He arched an eyebrow, adding, “At least I’m honest with myself about what I’m feeling and what I want.”

Her jaw dropped in affront, but muddy water splashed in her face, making her cough and gasp for a breath.

“Okay, babe, hold on to me. Tight. This could get dicey.” Without waiting for her to follow his instruction, he shifted his free hand’s grip to the rope. They dipped lower in the water, and she threw her arms around him, curling her fingers into his shirt.

Before releasing his hold on the tree branch that had saved him, he smacked another quick kiss on Kara’s lips. “For luck! Now hang on!”

With a silent prayer, he let go of the cottonwood and seized the rope with both hands.

* * *

Kara clenched her teeth, both to keep them from chattering in the desperately cold water and to keep from getting more of the muddy runoff in her mouth. Tense with fear, she clung to Brady and repeated a silent chant in her head. Please, please, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease!

At first she fixed her eyes on the opposite side of the arroyo, to the rocky incline they’d have to scale after crossing the water. If they got across the water...

No! No negative thoughts! They could do this. Brady could do this. He was strong and capable and determined...

She shifted her attention to his slow hand-over-hand progress as he pulled them against the current. His biceps and shoulder muscles flexed and bulged as he fought the swift water. She tried to help by scissor-kicking, but the chill had seeped deep into her muscles, leaving her legs numb and weak. Seeing how far they had to go to reach safety discouraged her, so after a few minutes, she focused only on what was right in front of her—the next few inches of rope they needed to travel. Brady’s heroic efforts to pull them through the water. His rugged face, scrunched in exertion. The fire of dogged determination bright in his eyes.

She curled her lips in, still feeling the warm tingle of his kiss there...and dancing in her veins like sparks rising from a campfire and swirling in the night sky.

He’d come out in this horrible storm to look for her. And as she’d predicted, he’d found her. She didn’t try to name the warm feeling that swelled inside her.

When Brady grunted with effort, she glanced again to his grip on the rope, the slow hand-over-hand progress as he pulled them against the waves. Sympathy twisted in her chest. His palms had to be raw from the wet hemp rope. Under the best of circumstances, ranchers wore gloves when working. She needed to help him, had to lend him whatever strength she could muster.

She reached for the rope, just below his grip and pulled for all she was worth.

“Kara! D—” He choked on a mouthful of water, but the anxiety in his tone spoke for him.

She answered with a defiant look and continued to squeeze the rope, tugging and inching hand-over-hand with him. Her muscles quivered, but pulling together, they moved more quickly toward the far side of the ravine. Soon they were hoisting themselves up, out of the water, feet scrabbling to climb the clay stone wall.

When at last she heaved herself over the top edge of the ravine wall, Kara flopped on the muddy ground, completely spent.

But Brady had other ideas. Still attached to the rope at the waist, he fumbled to undo his belt. When he was unhooked from her, he rose on his hands and knees beside her, and he tugged at her arm. “Come on. Get up. You’re losing body heat, lying in those puddles.”

“I’m...s-so tired.” She used every bit of restraint left in her not to sound whiny when she voiced her objection. The simple truth was, her energy was sapped, and hypothermia was settling in...quickly.

Brady staggered to his feet, and with strength he found God knew where, he lifted her in his trembling arms. Carrying her, he stumbled to the ATV and sat on the ground with her on his lap. He chafed her aching arms, though his hands were as cold as hers. Covering one of his hands with hers, she turned his palm up to examine it. As she’d expected, his skin was red and blistered, scraped by the rough rope. Her hands were raw, too, but Brady’s were much worse.

“Oh, Brady...” She touched the abraded skin gently with her fingers.

“I’m fine.” He tugged his hand from her grasp and wrapped his arms around her again.

She curled against him, savoring the security of being out of the water, safe on high ground. Brady had saved her life.

Gratitude tugged at her, deep in her core. No...more than gratitude. A deeply poignant sense of reassurance and affection that brought tears to her eyes and stole her breath. “Y-you came after m-me.”