Deep In The Heart Of Texas. Linda Warren

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      “Why do you dislike my father?” she found herself asking.

      He spared her a dark glance. “Because he’s powerful and ruthless, and he’s used every underhanded trick he knows to force me off my land.”

      Miranda’s eyes grew wide. “I can’t believe that!”

      “I don’t care what you believe,” he said angrily. “Right now my goal is to get you out of my cabin and out of my life.”

      “But…but…” she sputtered, suddenly fearful that he intended to kick her out and let Spikes have her. She swallowed hard, not sure what she should say—or ask.

      Before she could find the right words, the hermit spoke. “I’m just wondering if this is a ploy of your father’s to run me off this land for good. Getting me arrested for kidnapping could be the ace up his sleeve.”

      Miranda folded her arms around her waist to still the trembling. “My father wouldn’t do that to me,” she said defiantly. “He wouldn’t have his men put me in that room. He wouldn’t! He wouldn’t, not to get back at you or anyone.”

      He gazed out the window. Spikes was still there. Was he waiting for someone? Or was he waiting for the Maddox woman? The hermit had to weigh his odds and he had to decide if this was a real kidnapping or a trap for him. He remembered the way the woman had been when he’d found her—drugged, fatigued and frightened. Even Clyde Maddox wouldn’t do that to his own daughter.

      “Are they still out there?” she asked in a hesitant voice.

      “Yeah, and it doesn’t look like they’ll be leaving anytime soon.”

      “What do you think they’ll do?”

      He paused for a second, then answered, “They’ll wait until dark, then come in and try to kill me and take you.”

      Miranda closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was having a terrible dream, but she couldn’t pretend anymore. She had to face the horror that had become her life. How could she manage that? Since her earliest childhood, there had been people to do things for her. Now there was no one but herself. And the hermit.

      “Once it gets dark, you can slip out the back door and start your trek home,” he said.

      Dark? Trek? Was he out of his mind? She could barely find her way to the back door, and he wanted her to tromp over miles of thick woods with Spikes on her heels. Somehow she had to persuade him to help her, because Spikes had a healthy respect for the hermit—a respect better known as fear. She’d heard it in his voice.

      Biting her lip, she stared at the hermit. His dark hair had a slight natural curl as it rested on his shoulders, which were broad and strong. His cheekbones were high and defined. He wasn’t as old as she’d thought. When her father had cursed him, she’d assumed he was a man in his sixties, but studying him now, she could see he probably wasn’t even forty. Why was a man of that age living the life of a hermit?

      Quickly pushing the question aside, she sought a way to reach him. “You said you’d hide me,” she reminded him in her sweetest voice, hoping for a positive reaction.

      There wasn’t one.

      A low grumble left his throat. “I have, and that’s all I intend to do. In a little while you’ll be on your own.”

      She leapt to her feet. “If you send me out into those woods alone, you might as well take your gun and shoot me.”

      “Don’t tempt me,” he warned, his eyes like dark thunder-clouds.

      Miranda shivered at the viciousness in his voice. She dropped back into the chair and began to weep, a defense mechanism she had learned as a child. It was guaranteed to work on the various men in her life, but it wasn’t having any effect on the hermit.

      “Dry up those tears. I’ve had about enough of you, your father and his men.”

      As he said the words, an idea formed in Miranda’s head. There might be a way to convince him. She wiped her eyes, then rubbed her hands on her jeans. “If you get me home, I promise you won’t be bothered by my father or his men anymore.”

      He blinked, unable to believe his ears. Did she actually think he needed her help? He could take care of Maddox and Spikes without her interference.

      “I can make it happen.” Her voice drummed on, full of confidence. “My father has never denied me anything, and if you bring me back safely, he’ll grant my request. You’ll have your solitude. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

      He walked over to the table, laid his hands flat on the surface and stared into her liquid brown eyes. “Solitude is my fervent prayer. And I don’t need your help.”

      At the harshness of his words, all her hopes vanished. The man was hard as nails, just as her father had said. Now what? She bit her lip and tried to think of something, anything.

      As the hope in her eyes died, he felt a pang of conscience. He moved away from the table. Dammit! He wasn’t going to help her. It was too risky.

      But could he really push her out the back door and let her fend for herself? She was a city girl, right down to those long manicured nails. Within minutes she’d be lost and victim to every wild animal out there, including Spikes. He wouldn’t treat any living creature that way. So he wouldn’t do it to Miranda Maddox, either.

      He released a long breath, admitting that he had no choice. She now knew Spikes was her kidnapper. Which meant she’d become a liability to Spikes, so he couldn’t afford to let her live.

      Damn the woman.

      He couldn’t have another death on his conscience.

      Damn the woman.

      “All right,” he said without expression. “I’ll take you back to your father.”

      “You will?” Her eyes grew bright with renewed hope.

      “On several conditions,” he added.

      She frowned. “Like what?”

      “You will do exactly what I tell you to do. You will not whine or complain. And most of all, there will be no tears and no questions.”

      She gritted her teeth at his arrogance, but answered, “Yes, fine. I can do that.”

      He wasn’t through. “It’s going to be cold out there without much shelter. Wild animals, from coyotes to bobcats, will be a constant danger. Not to mention Spikes, who will be on our trail as soon as he realizes we’ve gone. I need to know if you can handle the rough terrain and the conditions and follow orders.”

      She stared at him with wide troubled eyes. Her first instinct was to lie, anything to get back to her father, but she had a feeling the hermit would see through it.

      “I’m not sure,” she answered honestly, trying to think of some evidence or argument. She could tell him about shopping nonstop for twelve hours in Paris. No, that sounded frivolous. Or she could tell him about skiing in Colorado, but then, most of her time was spent at the СКАЧАТЬ