Carolyn Davidson - Runaway

Their noses bobbing in the water, the three animals drank deeply, then, blowing noisily, they sprayed, tossing their heads. Will stepped back to escape their antics, grinning at their good spirits.

“Are we going to spend the night here?” Cassie asked from the doorway.

“We don’t have a lot of choice right now,” Will answered. His hand lifted to gesture at the leaden sky. “Looks like we’re in for it. The wind’s comin’ up pretty steady.”

Cassie nodded. Getting caught in the rain would be miserably uncomfortable as far as she was concerned. Even this crude shelter was better than being out in the open at the mercy of a spring storm. Wrapping her arms around herself for warmth, she turned to where a fireplace yawned against the far wall of the small cabin. A scattering of wood promised the beginnings of a fire, but not much more. She dropped to her knees on the hearth, gathering the kindling and piling it loosely.

Will’s bundle must surely hold more matches. Quickly she loosened the folds and searched for the small container she’d seen in his hands that first night. It held sulphurtipped matches, safe from the damp, and she lit one carefully, holding it to the brittle kindling. It sparked, then caught, and a small flame sprang into being. Carefully she placed another fragile stick over the glowing wood, smiling as it caught fire. One piece at a time, she fed the flames until every scrap of wood from the floor surrounding her was piled inside the wide mouth of the fireplace.

Her fingers were finally warmed, and she rubbed them together, glorying in the heat. One hand lifted languidly to brush at her cheek, where wayward tendrils fell forward, her untended hair loosening from its braid. Then she sat back on her heels, gathering the warmth to herself, reluctant to leave the small haven of comfort.

It was there he found her, kneeling before the small blaze she tended, her unruly hair and smudged cheeks those of an urchin. And yet there was about her an allure he could not fathom. The soft line of her cheek, lashes shadowing the pale flesh, the profile of feminine curves as she lifted her hand to brush at a wisp of dark hair. Her arm lifting high pulled at the fabric of her shirt, its soft weave revealing the swell of her breast.

He inhaled sharply, pierced by his awareness of the woman kneeling before him. His eyes narrowed as his gaze slid up over the generous curve of her bottom to where her waist was cinched with the length of belt he’d given her.

Desire, hot and consuming, drenched him in its depths. The heat of his arousal was immediate, from the flaming ridge across his cheekbones to the throbbing warmth in his groin. His breath caught again, a rasping sound that drew her attention, and she turned, her eyes wide and startled, as if he’d drawn her from a dream.

As women went, she was far from the most seductive he’d ever seen. Hell, she wasn’t much more than a child, all innocent and unknowing, her face smudged, her eyes anxious, her mouth soft and inviting as she opened it to speak.

“Will?” Hastily she rose, brushing her hands together, then wiping them against the sides of her denim pants. “I was about to go out and gather more firewood.” She hesitated, uneasy as she searched his face, her fingers clenching into fists. Poised as if for flight, she looked away from him, to the doorway, then beyond, where the long branches of the willow beside the house swept the ground.

“The wind’s coming up,” she said in a wispy, small voice, sidling toward the open doorway. “I’d better look for wood before we get a downpour.”

“Cassie.” He spoke her name in a gruff exhalation of breath, his eyes closing for just a moment.

Her gaze skittered from the bleak vista beyond the doorway to clash with his as his lashes lifted. Allowing his mind to fill with her image—slender, bedraggled and all too tempting—he cast aside the caution he’d managed to gather.

“Come here.” He spoke the words—softly uttered, but more than a request nonetheless—that would bring her to him. That she would not heed the implicit order never entered his head. Cassie had put herself under his care.

He watched as she turned reluctantly in his direction, his whole frame taut with the desire he fought to contain. Perhaps just holding her would suffice. He could gather that small body against himself, soothe his passion with the warmth of her soft, resilient flesh, surround himself for just a moment with the female scent that rose from her as an elusive, faint enticement.

“Will?” She stood before him, her eyes wide, her mouth soft, her bottom lip trembling. “What is it? Is something wrong?” Apprehension brought a frown to mar the smooth line of her forehead, and he lifted his hand, fingers smoothing at the lines.

“No.” Abrupt, at odds with the gentle caress he bestowed upon her skin, his voice growled the single syllable.

She flinched beneath his touch and tilted her head to one side. “Will?” Her whisper was wavering, her nostrils flaring as if she scented a danger she could not comprehend.

She was more than he could resist, more than his self-control could deny. His hands met behind her waist in a smooth movement that caught her unaware. He tugged at her, catching her off balance, and she tumbled against him, lifting her hands in an automatic gesture to grip his shoulders. His head dipped, his jaw against her temple, his eyes closing as he deliberately blotted from his mind the gray skies outside the cabin, the dingy interior of the small room.

For this moment, for just these few seconds, he basked in the softness of the woman he held. His palms flat against her back, he urged her closer, forming her to his needy flesh. His heart pounded with a steady, harsh beat, radiating within his body like the sounding of a drum in his ears.

She stiffened for a moment, her breathing uneven, and he felt her tremble against him. Her face turned in the direction of his, tilting back until her mouth brushed against the line of his chin, opening so that he felt the moisture of her inner lips upon his skin. She kissed him there, rising on her tiptoes to whisper a string of soft words against his whiskered jaw.

“What is it, Will? Can I help? Is something wrong?” Her hands released their hold on his shoulders and slid to his nape, gripping tightly against his spine. She curled against him, forming her curves to the firm muscles of his chest, as if she would offer comfort, her fingers rubbing in a soothing rhythm.

A groan he could not stifle rose to his lips. Could she help? The one thing that would be guaranteed to solve his immediate problem was not an option, he admitted to himself ruefully. That this young woman would so innocently offer compassion, unknowing of his instinctive desire for her, was the crowning touch.

“Just let me hang on to you for a minute, Cassie.” The words were muffled as he turned his mouth against her forehead.

She nodded, and his lips brushed her skin in an automatic caress. Probably the only clean spot on her face, he thought, his mouth twisting in an unwilling grin. And even that fact did not deter him. Beneath the smudges, the evidence of her hours on the trail, was the face of a girl…no, the face of a woman who had survived a hard night of riding without complaint. Whose small, compact body was pressed against his, whose lips were temptingly close.

He brushed his lips against her mouth and felt an eager trembling there as she responded, bringing to life a renewed surge of desire rising within him. Casting aside the good intentions he’d vowed to observe, he slid one hand up her back to hold her head in place for his kiss. She murmured beneath her breath, a soft, acquiescent whimper, and his jaw tightened, a sense of male triumph invading his very being.