“That’s it,” Jake praised the animal, leaning into the gait. That was all the encouragement Buck needed to leap almost straight into a full-out gallop.
“Are we here?” Amanda tried to ask, her heart suddenly in her throat.
“We’re someplace,” Jake assured her. Then it was all he could do to concentrate on his riding, because even they could hear the answering horses this time.
Amanda couldn’t stop shivering. She was inside the ranch house, seated in front of the most delicious fire she’d ever seen in her life, and she couldn’t even feel it. She couldn’t feel her fingers or her toes or most of her thighs.
“I’ll tell ya, boss, we was gettin’ real nervous,” Clovis babbled, all but hopping from one foot to the other in excitement. “We barely got what stock in we did. The rest we’re just gonna have to get food out to in the mornin’.”
“It’s real bad out there,” José agreed. “Coffee’s comin’ soon, Mizz Marlow. Okay?”
Amanda did her best to nod. All she could do was cry and shiver. She felt like an idiot. She felt like she was shaking apart, and still she couldn’t feel her hands. The blanket slipped off her shoulders again.
“Amanda, you have to get those clothes off,” Jake commanded, pulling it back up.
She nodded again, never taking her eyes off the life-giving fire.
Jake bent down on a knee in front of her. “Amanda...”
She lifted tear-swollen eyes to him. “I didn’t think you could do it, Jake. I—I’m sorry. I thought...” The rest of the confession was swallowed in a gulping sob.
Jake didn’t answer. He just straightened and reached out to pull her to her feet. “Come on. We’re going to get you warmed up.”
Clovis came to immediate attention, pulling on gloves and hat. “We’ll make another round down in the barn, boss.”
Jake nodded. Amanda felt his arm around her shoulder and knew he was leading her into Lee’s room. It didn’t seem that she had the energy to do more than follow. She didn’t even think to say goodbye to Clovis and José, even after the two of them had appeared out of that snow like delivering angels on horseback, whooping and shouting welcome as they personally guided Buck the rest of the way to the stables. That made her cry, too.
Jake left Amanda standing in the center of Lee’s room as he rummaged through drawers. “I know she’s got some warm stuff in here. Get your clothes off, Amanda, now. You’re getting hypothermic.”
Amanda tried. She let the blanket fall again and began to fumble with the hem of her sweater. Her fingers wouldn’t work. She couldn’t get them to hook beneath the heavy knitting and pull. And underneath that was her new flannel shirt with all the buttons. And those denim jeans with the snap and zipper.
She was close to dissolving again when Jake turned around with an armful of nightgown and robe.
“Here,” he commanded, already out of his coat, his jeans just as wet as Amanda’s. For some reason, though, he wasn’t shivering. Amanda couldn’t understand it. Slinging his cache over his shoulder, Jake reached for her sweater and yanked it unceremoniously over her head. “I’ll do it.”
Amanda stiffened abruptly, the thought of Jake doing something so intimate worming right through all that inertia.
“No,” she protested, forcing her fingers to try to latch onto a button. “No, I’ll do it.”
But her fingers slid purposelessly across the button.
Jake just pushed her hands away. “We’re going to have to get those warmed up. And your feet. Are they numb, too?”
Amanda nodded, her gaze down to where his hands had begun to work her buttons. She was still so cold, so tired, so wretchedly miserable. And now, she was blushing crimson with distress.
“You should have had long Johns on.”
“Jake, you can’t...”
He impaled her with his best glare. “Maria and Betty aren’t here, Amanda. You don’t have a whole lot of choice.”
She ended up closing her eyes, too shaken by Jake’s proximity, his purposeful intimacy, to face him. He stripped off her shirt and then slid the nightgown over her head, only unsnap-ping her bra when she was marginally covered. Then he slipped her arms into the sleeves of the gown and unsnapped and unzipped her pants. Amanda could still feel the quick brush of those fingers against her breasts, and it unnerved her.
“Well, at least you got some real clothes,” he informed her, his voice edged with impatience. “It probably saved your skinny hide.”
That got her eyes open. “Skinny?” she demanded.
He grinned. A real grin, the kind two people trade who’ve shared something special or perilous. “Thought that’d bring you around,” he taunted. “Now, sit down so I can get your boots off.”
