A Dangerous Inheritance. Leona Karr

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СКАЧАТЬ reached the narrow bridge and played his flashlight over the side, his breath caught. “What in the—?”

      Josh kept staring through the pelting rain until he was sure. A car was wedged against the underside of the bridge, undoubtedly ready to be swept away in the rising river.

      Bounding from the saddle, he secured his mount’s reins around a railing, and then he raced across the bridge and down the rain-sodden embankment. A few feet from the car, he could barely make out a small feminine figure staggering in the mud and water, losing her balance in the tumult.

      His shout was lost in a crash of thunder. A few more feet and she’d be dangerously close to the edge of the river. He bounded forward, and as he reached out and grabbed her, she lashed out in crazed terror. Not that he blamed her. Coming at her like that out of the dark, she had every reason to be frightened. Even now as he carried her to where his horse was tethered, she was trembling.

      “It’s okay,” he reassured her as he lifted her higher, set her sideways on his horse, and swung up into the saddle behind her. Opening his raincoat, he pulled her close so that she was enveloped in its folds. “We’re going to have you warm in no time.”

      Gratefully, she leaned against his chest, as he kicked the horse into motion. She was aware of the tensile strength in his muscular body as it responded to the rhythmic harmony of the horse’s movements. Even though she was still shivering in her drenched clothes, the warmth of his nearness radiated in a way that startled her. She felt totally safe. Protected?

      Don’t be a fool. A silent warning shot through her. The man had appeared out of nowhere, and she hadn’t even seen his face. The minute he laid his hands on her, he had physically overwhelmed her. Where was he taking her? And who would miss her if something happened to her?

      No one.

      After weeks of unemployment she’d lost touch with all her fellow workers. There were none who might be interested in this trip she’d taken to size up her inheritance and learn whether it was going to be a blessing or an albatross around her neck.

      Her thoughts raced ahead. One thing was frighteningly clear. No one in Timberlane would even be aware of her disappearance if she failed to arrive there. What she’d learned about Timberlane had not been reassuring. Apparently promoters’ plans to make it a bustling Colorado ski resort had fallen by the wayside, and it was hardly more than a wide spot in the road with barely a couple of hundred residents. Why her uncle Willard had tied up her inheritance in a run-down building and questionable real estate was beyond her.

      When the horse’s galloping gait changed to a trot, and then slowed to a walk, she found herself stiffening. She could make out some dark buildings. A faint light showed in what seemed to be a small two-storied house. He was taking her to his place. What then? Did he live alone? Would she be safe there or plunged into an unspeakable terror? She had felt the strength of his large hands. The deliberate way he had put her on the horse. Every horror movie she had seen suddenly became real—a helpless woman in the clutches of a deranged stranger. She had not even seen his face, or looked into eyes that might show him to be the devil himself. True, he had rescued her from the storm, but the price might be a high one. She shivered again, not from her clinging wet clothes, but from a growing cold fear slicing through her.

      “We’re here,” he said in a tone of satisfaction as he reined the horse under a wooden overhang at the back door of the roughly hewn log house. He dismounted and lifted her down.

      “Where are we?”

      “Home. Where else?”

      “You have a family?” she asked hopefully with chattering teeth.

      “I’ll see you inside, and then put up the horse,” he said gruffly, ignoring her question.

      He opened a squeaking back door, ushered her through a kind of utility room, and into a lighted, plain and modestly furnished kitchen.

      A welcoming warmth touched Stacy’s face and the homey smell of cooking lingered in the room. Reassured by the familiar sights and smells, and relieved to be out of the storm, she started to slump down in one of the wooden chairs, but he stopped her.

      “There’s a bathroom down the hall,” he said. “Better run yourself a bath and get into some dry clothes.”

      Clothes.

      Everything was in the car, probably floating down the river by now! Suitcases. Purse. Keys. Boxes. All gone!

      “I’ll scrounge up something for you to put on,” he said quickly as if reading her expression. “I don’t expect you’ll be too picky,” he added, glancing at her soaked summer slacks and top.

      “No,” she agreed, fighting the sinking plunge of her stomach.

      “I’ll show you the way.”

      She still couldn’t see his face clearly, only the lower half. He had a wide, firm mouth and a well-defined jaw. A wide-brimmed western hat still put his eyes in shadow, and his raincoat, tight jeans and cowboy boots only added to the girth of his masculine stature.

      He firmly took her arm and propelled her down a hall adjoining the kitchen. One thing was certain, he was just as dominating and commanding in the kitchen as he’d been outside. Under ordinary circumstances she would have bristled at his macho behavior, but she knew better than to challenge his authority until she was warm and dry and had decided how to protect herself if things started to get ugly.

      A small bathroom at the end of a short hall looked as if it had been built as an afterthought. The plumbing was old and a large claw-footed tub took up most of the space. There were no feminine toiletries, just a bar of white soap, a man’s hairbrush and some faded, worn towels.

      “Wait a minute.” He opened a nearby hall closet and brought out a stuffed plastic bag. “There ought to be some clothes in here that will do.” He handed her the sack. “After I put up the horse, I’ll warm some brandy.” With that, he turned his back on her, and a moment later she heard the back door close with a distant bang.

      She stood for a moment, leaning against the closed bathroom door, whispering, “It’s going to be all right, it’s going to be all right.”

      As she began to strip off the drenched clothes, she caught a reflected image of herself in a mirror above the sink. She stared in disbelief. Her ebony hair had become a straggly, frizzled mop framing her pale face and blue lips. Then she looked down. Mud coated her arms, legs, clothes and shoes, and she looked like something that had crawled out from under a rock.

      Horrified that anyone had seen her in such a condition, she filled the old bathtub nearly full and sank into the blessed warmth of a hot bath. As her chilled body began to revive, her mind began to dwell on unanswered questions. How was she going to handle this situation with her rescuer? He hadn’t answered her question about a family. How safe was she? She’d never felt so vulnerable in her life.

      She stepped out of the tub, dried herself and tried not to let her imagination build a tale of horror about a woman at the mercy of a stranger in a storm like this.

      As she opened the plastic bag, the sickening sweet smell of cheap perfume assaulted her. It contained a few women’s clothes, a box of costume jewelry and ribbons. Her mouth went dry as she wondered if this was some feeble collection from other rescued victims? Just the thought made her want to shove them away as far as possible, but standing there naked in the strange bathroom, she didn’t have a choice.

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