Chapter Two
Zach left the woman bundled up in blankets, tucked in a semi-sheltered corner of the shattered stage. But the last time he’d looked over his shoulder, she’d been shaking uncontrollably, both from the force of the icy wind and the shock of her injury.
He doubted she’d make it through the night.
Although he knew he had to put as much distance as possible between himself and the wreck, thoughts of woman haunted him as he plunged forward through the increasingly violent storm. He told himself he couldn’t afford to care. The wreck was a second chance he didn’t deserve, and he’d be a fool to let the opportunity pass by for the sake of a woman he didn’t even know.
Besides, there was no certaintyhe’dsurvive the storm.
The wind had turned into a howling banshee, whipping through the canyon without mercy. The stinging snow blinded him, and the adrenaline that had carried him through the last hour faded as the cold wrapped him in its icy fingers.
It took him forever to stumble a few hundred yards. Exhausted, he leaned against the canyon wall, finding a narrow crevice, which offered some protection from the unrelenting wind. As he turned to put his back to the weather, he realized it wasn’t a crack, but the entrance to a cave.
The crevice widened about six feet in, and then he found himself in a large chamber. Pulling out a box of matches he’d rescued from the wreck, he lit one and stared at his surroundings. A smaller tunnel at the back led to another chamber, but he found no signs of animal occupation. The cave was empty and dry with a soft, sandy floor—a perfect place to wait out the storm. In fact, if he could find some wood for a fire, the cave would be more comfortable than the prison cell where he’d spent the last five years.
Lady Luck had smiled on him more during the last two hours than she had in his entire life.
But how could he stay here, snug and warm, while the woman who’d freed him from those damned shackles froze to death less than a mile away?
“Damn.” He slammed his fist against the rough stone wall, knowing the answer. He had to go back for her.
Too many deaths already haunted him. He couldn’t buy his freedom at further cost to his soul. He’d bring her back here, then leave once the storm broke.
Still cursing beneath his breath, he turned up his collar and plunged back out into the cold.
* * * * *
Bethany drifted in and out of sleep, each time caring less and less if she ever woke again. Numb and lethargic, she could no longer feel the cold or pain. Her dreams were odd and ephemeral, filled with images of a dark, handsome man who carried her in his arms and begged her not to leave him.
* * * * *
Zach stumbled into the main room of the cave, his shoulders, back and arms aching from his heavy burden. He’d feared he would be unable to find the entrance a second time and thanked God for the first time in longer than he cared to remember for granting him this miracle. Sinking to his knees, he lowered the girl to the ground.
She looked like a snow angel, her golden hair white with ice, her lovely face deathly pale. Leaning over her, he placed his fingertips above her heart and tried to discern whether she still breathed.
Damn, he hoped he hadn’t let too much time pass before he’d gone back for her. It was full dark now, so he figured at least four hours had passed since the wreck. Four hours she’d spent bleeding in the cold.
“Wake up,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “Don’t you dare die on me, darlin’.”
He shook her, and her lips parted on a soft moan. Relieved, he sank back on his heels and ran a trembling hand across his scruffy jaw. Exhaustion made his limbs heavy and weak, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down beside the girl and sleep.
Luckily, he was still lucid enough to realize the danger they faced. He fumbled with the makeshift pack he’d made out of the blankets and drew out a few splintered pieces of wood from the coach and the rest of the sack lunches he’d gathered.
It seemed to take forever to get a fire going, and once he did, he had to force himself to move away from it. He shed his wet, partially frozen clothes and replaced them with a scratchy wool blanket.
The other three blankets served to form a pallet beside the fire. Then he turned back to the girl, glad for the chill when he considered the task that lay ahead.
She remained passive as a rag doll while he stripped away her wet, bloody clothes and left her clad in nothing but the serviceable white chemise she wore beneath them. The bandage on her leg was crimson, soaked through, and he carefully peeled it away, frowning as fresh blood welled from the wound.
Using a handful of snow, he cleaned the gash as best he could, then rewrapped it with another scrap of her dress. Finished with the most pressing matters, he pulled her into his arms and crawled beneath the damp blankets.
Staring into the dancing flames, he forced himself to resist the temptation of closing his eyes and recalling the image of the girl’s lush breasts and long, slim legs. It was difficult, since those luscious curves and silky limbs were pressed intimately against him.
Desire chased away the icy chill, but the painful surge of blood to his groin was almost as uncomfortable.
He brushed a lock of hair from her eyes, tracing her features with a tenderness he’d forgotten he possessed. God, it felt good to have someone to take care of.
His warmth slowly took the chill from the girl’s skin. Soon, she was shivering against him, making soft, incoherent sounds as she snuggled even closer. He bit his lip and endured the sweet torture, wondering if it would have been easier to fall down in the snow and let the blizzard take him.
