Texas Bride. Carol Finch
mutely, Maddie pried the bottle from his fingertips, took a sip and then said, “How do you do it?”
His dark brows bunched over his thick-lashed eyes. “How do I do what?”
“Face outlaws and wild beasts daily without letting it get to you?” She wheezed, then helped herself to another sip.
“Practice,” he replied, then jerked the bottle from her hand once more. “You’ve had more than enough. The way you’re going at it you’ll be stumbling drunk and pitch yourself off the edge of the cliff.”
“I’m sure you’d prefer that,” she mumbled as she wilted bonelessly to the ground. “Then you’d be rid of me for good.”
It was more than obvious that Maddie wasn’t a connoisseur of liquor. The stuff went straight to her head in nothing flat. “Better eat something,” he advised as he strode over to lift the burned quail from the fire.
Reluctantly she accepted the food he extended to her.
“Hell’s going to break loose soon,” he predicted as he glanced at the threatening sky. “We’ll call it a night and get an early start in the morning. We should reach Fort Griffin by noon.”
“And then you will be rid of me,” she said between bites.
Yes, he would. In less than a day he could put Maddie Garret out of his mind and enjoy his vacation.
Jonah hurriedly finished his meal, then doused the fire. The wind was swirling around the bluff with increasing speed and a shaft of rain hung over the valley. He estimated that they were going to be drenched in less than five minutes. He strode off to tuck his gear in a dry place before the storm unleashed its fury.
Jonah scowled when he exited the cave and saw Maddie tipping the whiskey bottle again. In four long strides he was at her side, snatching the bottle away. “Damn it, gimme that.”
“You’re no fun a-tall.”
“I’m alive and kicking. That’s fun enough,” he muttered, noting her goofy smile.
“Wha’d it take fo’ you to like me better? You might fin’ this har’ to believe, but some men act’lly do like me.”
“Do tell. Garret, you’re wasted,” Jonah stated. Then he frowned disapprovingly. “Rule number two, if you can’t handle liquor, don’t drink.”
She looked at him, eyelids drooping noticeably. “What’s rule number one? I forget.”
“Pay attention to your surroundings,” he prompted as he reached down to hoist her to her feet. “If you weren’t soused you’d recall that we’re about to get wet.” He directed her attention to the sheet of rain that was sweeping over the valley, heading directly toward them.
He curled his arm around her waist and shepherded her toward the cave as raindrops splattered the sandstone ledge beneath his feet. Maddie didn’t object, thank goodness, just allowed him to guide her into the cavern to wait out the storm. Sighing heavily, she sprawled on the pallet while he tucked away the whiskey—what was left of it.
Jonah stood there watching her stretch like a cat before she pulled the quilt over her. Damn, she looked so incredibly tempting lying there with that droopy smile on her dewy lips. The curtain of rain that tumbled past the mouth of the cave gave the impression that he and Maddie were all alone in the world. There was nothing he wanted more than to stretch out beside her and create a storm of passion that rivaled the one that Earth Mother had unleashed outside.
But that erotic fantasy was not going to collide with reality, Jonah promised himself resolutely.
“Come to bed, Jonah,” Maddie murmured as she drew back the quilt and patted the empty place beside her. “I promise not to throw myself at you.”
Jonah looked around, trying to figure out where he was going to sleep. It couldn’t be with her. He trusted himself less tonight than he had last night.
“Please,” she whispered.
The self-discipline and restraint he’d spent three decades cultivating failed him completely. He was moving toward the inviting pallet and the alluring woman upon it before he realized it. The moment he eased down beside her Maddie snuggled up against his hip and rested her head on his shoulder. Forbidden sensations hammered at him as the scent and feel of her bombarded his senses. Jonah held himself perfectly still, afraid to move, for fear he’d moved toward her. Because if he did he was pretty sure his willpower would abandon him in one second flat.
“You’re a nice man, Jonah Danhill,” she murmured against his chest.
A nice man wouldn’t be thinking the kind of impure thoughts that were chasing around in his head at the moment. The feel of her full breasts pressed against his rib cage was arousing him to the extreme. The feel of her arm draped over his chest reminded him of being wrapped in a cocoon of living flesh. He wanted her in the worst way, wanted to be inside her, sharing the same flesh, the same breath.
The erotic thought played havoc with his self-restraint, especially when her enticing feminine scent kept wrapping itself around his senses and practically drowned him. Gritting his teeth against the onslaught of tormenting temptation, Jonah shifted sideways and turned his back on her. Which was just as bad, because Maddie cuddled spoon-fashion against his back and looped her arm around his waist.
Her breath stirred against his neck, causing goose-flesh to pebble his skin. Desire clenched inside him and one arousing fantasy after another flooded his mind and left him hard and aching. Damn it, even if he’d been made of stone he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t crack under the intense pressure of wanting her like hell blazing.
After what seemed forever he heard her methodic breathing and felt her slump in slumber. Jonah thanked Indian and white men’s deities equally for granting him relief.
One more day, he chanted silently. Surely he could endure one more day of nearly impossible temptation before she found another guide to lead her back to familiar territory.
Jonah winced when an odd sensation nipped at him. He didn’t want to visualize another man cuddling up with Maddie. He’d buy her a bedroll, Jonah decided immediately. And he’d make double damn certain that her next guide had the restraint and integrity to keep his hands off her.
Hell! Where in the blazes was he going to find a saint on such short notice?
Maddie awoke the following morning with a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach and a dull throb thudding against her skull. The whiskey, she recalled. Though drinking had taken the edge off her nerves, there seemed the devil to pay later.
Raising heavy-lidded eyes, she glanced sideways, not surprised to note that Jonah was up and gone. She smiled slightly, remembering that she’d practically had to twist his arm to get him to share the bedroll with her.
Drowsily Maddie pushed upright and scrubbed her hands over her face. She needed to get up and get moving. She predicted Jonah had the horses saddled already and was champing at the bit, eager to be on the way to the fort so he could drop her off.
Maddie stepped from the cave to draw in a deep breath and revel in the lingering scent of rain that hung in the early morning air. Her gaze drifted across the valley and she admired the spectacular view for a long moment. With her senses cleared—partially—she ambled over to the pool to wash her face, then reversed direction to gather the bedroll and gear.
Jonah glanced up to see Maddie, the saddlebags, satchel and bedroll slung over her shoulder, making her way down the trail. Her face was pale—the aftereffects of her bout with whiskey, he diagnosed. Nonetheless, she had gathered up the gear and climbed down from their elevated campsite to join him.
“How’s your head?” he asked without preamble.
“And good morning to you, too,” she replied. Maddie walked over to tie the gear behind the saddle. “Sleep well, Jonah?”
The casual tone of her voice provoked him to frown.