Deep In The Heart Of Texas. Linda Warren

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      She was scared of rats. The woman had walked miles in excruciating pain, but the thought of a rat had her falling to pieces.

      “If there was a rat in here, Bandit would catch it,” he told her.

      “Maybe he’s not hungry anymore,” she countered logically.

      “Bandit is always hungry.”

      “I’d feel better sitting over here with you.”

      “And I’d feel better if you went back to your own place.”

      She ignored the irritated tone of his voice. “We can share the blanket and stay warmer. See,” she said, and quickly spread the blanket over both of them.

      “Lady…”

      Bandit whined.

      “Shut up,” the hermit snapped.

      Miranda jerked her head in surprise. “What?”

      “Nothing,” he said. “Just go to sleep.”

      Miranda curled into his side, her soft body against his. He took a shuddering breath. He didn’t need this. Oh, God, he didn’t need this.

      Bandit scurried onto the blanket and crawled into her lap.

      “Traitor,” he whispered to himself as he watched her hand stroking Bandit’s head.

      Miranda sat by his side watching his jaw tighten with each passing second, but she wasn’t moving. She liked it here. She felt safe and warm.

      His full beard caught her attention. He had a rugged outdoor persona and she’d bet he was very handsome without all the hair. What did it feel like to kiss someone with a beard? She never had, and suddenly the temptation was oh, so great. What would he do if she reached over and kissed him? Her fantasy came to an abrupt stop. What in the world was she thinking? Had fear warped her brain? Her eyes grew heavy, but she couldn’t prevent the tantalizing thought from dancing in her head.

      He knew he wasn’t going to sleep, but it didn’t matter. Sleep was something that eluded him on most nights. He’d heard the rumors about himself; that he roamed these hills chasing his demons. That was probably true. His demons were persistent, never letting him sleep more than two hours at a time. Those demons were the reason he was here in the Hill Country alone, finding a measure of peace in the solitude.

      Now she was creating doubts about the sentence he’d imposed on himself. All those emotions and feelings he’d left behind and thought dead were threatening to surface. But that was okay. He could handle them and he could handle her.

      Sometime later he awoke with a start. He had fallen asleep. Damn. He listened closely. No sound of riders. Spikes wasn’t on their trail yet. The first thing he noticed was that it had stopped sleeting. It was a clear afternoon. The temperature had risen about ten degrees. Texas weather. Always a mystery.

      The second thing he noticed was the woman asleep at his side. Her blond head rested on his shoulder, and her arm was linked through his. The blanket was still wrapped around them, and Bandit lay like a babe in her lap.

      She moaned softly, an erotic sound he couldn’t help reacting to. A sound she probably made when she was—No! Don’t even think it. A woman with the same sexual appeal had destroyed him, broken his heart, crushed his soul. He had no desire to go down that path again, no matter how attractive the woman.

      He shifted uncomfortably and she stirred. Her bright brown eyes glistened with beautiful dreams—and then they darkened with the reality of their situation.

      “Oh, it’s not sleeting anymore,” she said. “And it doesn’t feel as cold.”

      “It isn’t,” he replied, disengaging his arm from hers.

      The movement didn’t escape her. The man had a thing about closeness. An impish idea lit her eyes. When he got her safely back to her father, she was going to give him the biggest kiss of his life. It would be her thank-you, her goal at the end of their journey.

      “Shh,” he said, instantly alert, and grabbed his rifle, which was never far from him.

      She bit her lip, not saying a word, her arms tight around Bandit.

      “Riders,” he whispered. “Damn, Spikes caught up with us faster than I expected. The rain and sleet didn’t even slow him down. Damn fool’s determined not to let you make it back to the ranch.”

      Miranda’s insides quivered uncontrollably. “Can he find us?”

      “Not unless he’s a better tracker than I give him credit for. The rain washed away all our tracks. He’s just going on instinct. Get your shoes,” he ordered, and she quickly obeyed, remembering her sneakers lay where he’d removed them to massage her legs.

      “How close is he?” she asked, lacing up her sneakers, then moving back to his side.

      “Less than half a mile and riding hard,” he replied, and turned to face her. “Not a word, not a sound—not even if a rat runs up your leg. Do you understand?”

      She nodded, her eyes like saucers.

      “What about Bandit?” she had to ask, thinking he’d start barking if the riders were close enough.

      “Bandit and I have hidden from Spikes before. He knows not to bark.” He rubbed Bandit’s head. “Don’t you, boy?”

      Bandit whined low in his throat.

      “Not a sound, boy.” The hermit held his finger to his lips.

      They were conversing. Dog and man. They understood each other. She’d never seen a master and animal so in tune with each other.

      Her concentration shifted as she heard the riders, the sound of hooves hitting the ground like distant thunder. Her muscles tightened in trepidation. What would happen if Spikes found them?

      The hermit laid the rifle on his lap and pulled the .38-caliber pistol from his shoulder holster. He released the safety with a silent click and held the gun in his right hand. They waited. And waited.

      The horses slowed, came closer. So close they could hear voices.

      “Why you stopping?”

      “This branch has been broken.” Spike’s voice was loud and clear.

      Miranda clamped a hand over her mouth. Oh, no. They’d found it. Now they’d probably find them. She tried to breathe normally and to control her fear, but nothing worked until she looked into his dark determined eyes and knew he could take care of this situation. Knew she could trust him.

      They listened carefully.

      “So? Probably an animal,” the other man said.

      “Or a person.” They heard the creaking of leather as Spikes obviously dismounted. “Let’s check it out.”

      “The hermit’s not that dumb. He ain’t gonna leave broken branches.”

      “He СКАЧАТЬ