Deep In The Heart Of Texas. Linda Warren

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СКАЧАТЬ knelt at her feet and took off her sneakers. Shock rippled through Miranda as he touched her, but she was too weak and exhausted to say anything. His big hands began to gently massage the calf of one leg, then the other. She sighed with pure pleasure.

      Heavens, his hands felt so good. Each touch, each stroke, eased away the pain. This man would never hurt anyone; she was positive of that. Why was everyone afraid of him? She wasn’t anymore, and somehow she felt she never would be again.

      God, he’d forgotten how good it felt to touch a woman. Even through the jeans, her flesh was soft yet supple, and—

      He had to stop. He couldn’t keep touching her. Removing his backpack, he leaned against the other wall just as it started to rain outside. “Better?” he asked, and his heart pounded against his chest with emotions he hadn’t experienced in years.

      “Yes, much,” she replied. “Thank you.”

      “You should have said something. I wouldn’t have pushed you so hard.”

      “I think you enjoyed pushing me hard,” she remarked with a touch of humor as she removed the wool cap.

      Blond hair tumbled around her shoulders. He found he couldn’t tear his eyes away, and that surprised him. For the first time he really saw her. She was very beautiful with creamy flawless skin, a straight dainty nose and a perfectly shaped mouth. Her silver-blond hair seemed natural but probably wasn’t. There was nothing natural about women like her. He knew her type—rich, spoiled and factitious down to her soul.

      As he realized what he was thinking, he brought his troublesome ramblings to a halt. He was comparing her to Sheila again. He’d been doing that for a while now. It was unfair to this woman, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

      He forced his eyes in another direction, but he had to admit Miranda Maddox showed more strength than Sheila had ever possessed. She must have been in a lot of pain—the knots in her legs were like goose eggs—yet she’d never said a word. Never complained. Never shed a tear. Yeah, she had strength. He had no idea why that pleased him so much, because he knew damn well that the sooner he got her back to her father the better.

      The steady tattoo of the rain enclosed them in a comfortable silence. Now that the pain had eased, Miranda let the soothing sound of it calm her nerves. She didn’t want to think about the dangers that lay in wait outside the cave.

      Pulling his hat low over his eyes, he tried to relax, but with Miranda Maddox a few feet away, that wasn’t easy. Damn the woman, he thought. He didn’t care about her, or her story, or why she was in this mess. That was what he told himself, over and over, but despite that, he found he was becoming increasingly curious.

      Damn the woman.

      He was empty inside. He had nothing to give anyone. Yet she was stirring up those basic primal emotions a man feels toward a woman. Maybe it wasn’t possible to destroy all feeling. Maybe some things were natural, God-given, and he had to accept that. Even if he didn’t like it much.

      The rhythmic beat of the rain became louder. Miranda glanced toward the entrance. It was sleeting. She could see tiny icicles forming on the bushes. That reminded her of Christmas—how long had it been since Christmas? Barely three weeks. It seemed a lifetime since the whole family had gathered at the ranch to celebrate. Kevin had surprised her with a beautiful engagement ring. She was happy. Or so she’d believed until—

      “We’d better eat and then try to get some sleep.” The hermit’s words interrupted her thoughts. He opened the backpack and pulled out a towel. Inside was a big loaf of bread and something Miranda didn’t recognize.

      “Deer jerky,” he said, almost as if he could read her mind.

      Deer jerky? What in the world was that? She frowned at the dark strips of meat.

      “It’s dried venison—deer meat,” he told her. “Quite tasty, especially if you’re hungry.”

      Slipping the knife from the sheath around his waist, he sliced the bread into big chunks and handed her a piece.

      She nibbled on the bread and watched as he chewed a piece of dried meat. Not wanting him to think she was one of those finicky females, she picked up a strip of meat and began to chew.

      It wasn’t bad, especially if you were hungry, like he’d said, but the bread was exceptional. “This is delicious bread. Where do you get it?”

      “I bake it,” he replied in a dry tone.

      “Oh,” she murmured, licking her fingers and feeling chastised. None of her friends or acquaintances baked anything, so how was she to know? “I should have guessed you were a regular Renaissance man,” she said to take the scowl from his face.

      The scowl only deepened as he took a drink from the canteen.

      She didn’t want him to think she’d insulted him, so she hastened to add, “A Renaissance man is a person with lots of skills, who can do anything. It comes from—”

      “I know that.” Slowly lowering the canteen, his dark eyes impaled her. “I’m not stupid.”

      Feeling chastised again, she decided to give up. Clearly she was never going to say anything that pleased him.

      As she finished the jerky, he passed her the canteen. Their fingers touched, but he didn’t instantly draw back as he had before. Their eyes met, and there was a tiny, a very tiny, glimmer in his eyes. It was there. She could see it before he looked away. He wasn’t as dead inside as he wanted her to believe.

      “Drink up,” he said, and cleared his throat.

      As she drank, he pulled a brown blanket from the backpack and tossed it on her lap.

      “Try to get some sleep,” he said, taking the canteen from her.

      She unfolded the wool blanket and wrapped it around her.

      He sat with his legs out in front of him, his back against the wall, his head tilted back.

      “Where’s your blanket?” she asked, thinking he must be cold.

      “Don’t need one. I’m used to the weather,” he replied, and pulled his hat lower over his eyes.

      Didn’t need one? He was lying. He’d given her his only blanket, and he couldn’t make her believe otherwise.

      Bandit settled down beside him. The hermit’s hand went out and rested on the dog’s back. Two complete and total friends, she thought, dealing with life in their own unique way.

      Curling her feet beneath her, she huddled under the blanket. It was so cold, but she managed to be comfortable. Just as she was about to fall asleep, she heard a rustling sound. She was immediately awake. Another rat? Oh, no! It was probably seeking shelter from the cold and rain.

      Why wasn’t Bandit jumping up and catching it? But he just lay there, sleeping. Maybe he was full after eating the first one and saw no point in getting up. Okay. She inhaled deeply. She could handle this.

      She heard the sound again—it was closer. So close she could almost feel the rat touching her skin. That was all it took. She scrambled to her feet, jumped across the narrow space and landed beside the hermit and Bandit. Bandit let out a yelp СКАЧАТЬ