The Renegade And The Heiress. Judith Duncan
there was only one way to do this, he stepped beside her, caught her leg and hoisted her up. She grasped the saddle horn and steadied herself, her eyes closed and her face very white, her whole body wracked with shivers.
Shutting down his expression, Finn yanked the socks out of his pockets. Her shoes were very fine leather, and knowing that wet leather was a better insulator than no leather at all, he pulled both pairs of socks over her shoes. The long cuffs of the socks stretched almost to her knees. He finished pulling on the last sock, and he was pulling up the cuff when she whispered, her voice thick. “Thank you.”
One hand still resting on her leg, he glanced up at her. She was hanging on to the saddle with both hands, and it was clear that she was fighting with all she had to remain conscious. His gaze narrowing, he took another hard look at her eyes, and Finn experienced a cold feeling deep in his belly. He was no doctor, but he was willing to bet his best horse that she was fighting the effects of heavy-duty drugs. Which put her in even more danger. He experienced another cold sensation. They were both sitting ducks out here in the middle of the clearing.
Catching a glimmer of fear in her expression, he forced a half smile onto his face. “You’re welcome.” He undid the wool army blanket from the back of his saddle, and tucked it under her arms. Then grasping the reins and horn in one hand, he put his foot in the stirrup and swung up behind her. Gus tossed his head and did a side step in response to their combined weight, and Finn corrected him with a small jerk of the rein and a sharp command to whoa.
Bracing her weight against him, Finn pulled the wool cap over her head, then wound the scarf over the top of that. Shifting her legs so she was sitting sidesaddle, he wrapped the blanket around her, covering her from head to foot.
It was as if his covering her up allowed her to let go, and he felt her sag against him, her head lolling against his shoulder. He would have thought she was out cold, but she grasped the back of his belt, as if she needed something to hang on to.
His face hardening, he shifted her slightly so he could support her weight with one arm, then lifted the reins and clucked to Gus. An ominous feeling—one that slid like cold fingers down the back of his neck—made his jaw harden even more. He felt as if he had a gun pointed at his back. A long time ago, he had learned to respect his gut feelings—and his gut was telling him to get the hell out of that meadow and across the river, where they would be less exposed.
Giving Rooney a quiet command to heel, Finn rode through the clearing, the falling snow sticking to the trunks of the aspens and coating the rocky outcroppings. Visibility was maybe two hundred feet and getting worse by the minute. It was a damned good thing he knew this area. With conditions the way they were, it would be very easy to lose his bearings. And getting lost was the last thing they needed.
The wind gusted, sending the snow swirling in front of him, and Finn squinted against it, the landmarks nearly impossible to see in the near-whiteout conditions. But he wasn’t going to complain about that. If landmarks were invisible, so were they. And right now invisibility afforded them the best protection of all.
Another gust of wind flurried around them, pulling some of her hair loose and feathering it across Finn’s mouth. Tightening his arm around her, he transferred the reins to that hand, then tucked the blanket more snugly around her head. She muttered something and stirred and Finn pressed her head more firmly against him and spoke, his voice low and gruff. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He tucked a loose flap of blanket under her head, then spoke again. “It’s going to get a little rough here. We have to ford the river, and the banks on either side are pretty steep. So just hang on, okay?”
He felt her hand shift on his belt. “Okay,” she whispered, and Finn could feel her tighten her grip and fight to remain conscious, but the fight only lasted seconds, and she went slack in his hold. Locking his jaw against her vulnerability, he scanned the rough terrain through the falling snow, trying to spot the huge boulder that marked the location where he’d forded the river. Now all he had to do was get her from this side of the river to the other, keeping her dry in the process, and they’d be relatively safe.
With the ford hidden under boiling white water, the river provided a formidable natural barrier. No one in his right mind would even consider crossing it. No one, except Finn.
They made it across safely, although Finn got a shot of adrenaline when Gus stumbled once in midstream, and it was all Finn could do to hold on to her. And there was another tense moment going up the other bank, the falling snow, the steepness of the riverbank and the extra weight testing the horse’s strength and agility to the limit.
But once in the impenetrable cover of the trees, Finn relaxed a bit, knowing their tracks would be obliterated within minutes. And with the river between them and whoever she was running from, he felt reasonably sure they were safe—at least for the time being.
Finn whistled for the packhorse, hoping that it wouldn’t take the animal too long to find him. Finn had been well schooled in the unpredictable treachery of the mountains—especially this time of year—and he always carried spare gear. As far as his own welfare was concerned, he could manage with what he had on. He had dressed for the weather—thermal underwear, heavy wool shirt and an insulated vest, his felt Stetson. But he was going to have to get more clothes on her—and something hot into her, or she could end up in big trouble.
Rooney appeared through the trees, shaking water from his thick coat, his ears pricked. Finn’s expression eased a little. The dog was totally pleased with himself, and it almost looked as if he were grinning. The weight in his arms pulled on his shoulder, and Finn focused on his passenger. Shifting her weight so she was more balanced in the saddle, Finn tucked the blanket tighter around her. Now all he had to do was get her back to the line shack.
They had just rounded the bend in the trail when there was a sound of something moving through the bush, then a few seconds later Trouper appeared on the trail behind them. Finn experienced another flicker of humor. It was as if the damned horse knew exactly where they were headed.
The heavy canopy of trees provided some shelter from the falling snow, and now distanced from the sound of the river, it was as if the whole world was enveloped in a peculiar stillness.
Gus stumbled on some loose shale, the sharp movement jarring his passenger to consciousness. She began to struggle weakly, and it dawned on Finn that the snug folds of the blanket wouldn’t feel a whole lot different from the black hood. Telling Gus to whoa, Finn spoke, his voice calm and quiet. “Hey. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Everything is okay.” Shifting his hold, he peeled the blanket away, his insides giving a funny twist when she opened her eyes and stared at him, confusion transfixing her. Needing to reassure her, he managed a lopsided smile. “How are you doing in there?”
She stared at him a second, then as if realizing who he was, she closed her eyes. Then she swallowed hard and looked up at him, her eyes still glazed, her pupils dilated. “I’m fine. But I’m really thirsty,” she whispered.
He gave her another half smile. “Tell you what. There’s a place just up ahead that’s really sheltered. We’ll pull up there, and I’ll build a fire, then make you something hot to drink.”
Her eyes widened and she tried to struggle free, panic claiming her. “No!” she muttered, trying to break loose. “No.”
Gus started to toss his head and sidestep, and Finn gave him a sharp command, aware that if she really started to fight him, they could both end up on the ground. And right now, that was the last place he wanted to be. Letting go of the reins, he locked his arms around her, holding her immobile. “Easy,” he said, his voice husky. “Easy. It’s okay.”
She gripped his arm and hauled in a deep, uneven breath, then opened her eyes again. Staring at him, her gaze dark with fear, she tried to sit up, the black wool hat accentuating her fair skin. “No.” She swallowed and abruptly closed her eyes again, as if suddenly very dizzy. Her face noticeably paler, she swallowed again and looked up at him. “No. We can’t. If we—if we stop—” She forced in another deep breath and spoke again, her voice shaking. “If we stop, they’ll find us.”
Snow slid from one