The Ranger. Carol Finch

ransom. My objective is to rejoin my company and report my findings. Then I’ll have one of my compatriots take you home.”

      “Right. You’re honorable, noble and heroic. Don’t know why I ever doubted your intentions.” She stared pointedly at the saddlebags of money strapped to his horse. With an audible sigh she turned her attention to the winding trail above them. “I really wish you did have wings, like your namesake, Hawk. Flying looks to be the only safe way to scale this embankment to reach that rain-slick peak.”

      “Change of plans,” Hawk suddenly declared as he pulled the reins from her hand. “I’ll take you up first, then come back for the horses.”

      “That’s not necessa—”

      Her voice evaporated when she stepped forward to reclaim the reins—and slipped in the mud and loose rock. Hawk snaked out an arm and hooked it around her waist before she fell on her face. He kept a firm grasp on her as he propelled her between the jutting boulders.

      “Footing here is tricky on a good day. In pouring rain it’s downright perilous. Take shorter steps and widen your stance,” he instructed.

      They went about twenty-five yards before he halted beside the eroded crevice that gaped in front of them. Leaving her braced against the boulder, Hawk backed up a step then launched himself through the air to avoid the space where the trail had given way to forty feet of nothingness.

      He held out his hand to her. “Now it’s your turn.”

      There was just enough daylight left for him to note the color had seeped from her face. But to her credit she gritted her teeth and marshaled her resolve. His respect for her elevated another notch as she crouched in preparation for leaping toward him. He had seen this woman during several telling moments today and he admired her gumption and determination.

      Whoever Bernice Colbert really was, she was one spirited, independent and courageous woman.

      Hawk braced himself when she hurtled toward him. Since she wasn’t as long-legged as he was, she didn’t quite make it over to solid ground. When she shrieked and lost her balance, his hand shot out to grab her wrist. Thankfully, she was only airborne for a few moments before he hauled her against him.

      To his surprise she threw her arms around his neck and practically hugged the stuffing out of him. Hawk was sorry to say that his male body responded instantaneously to having her supple curves and swells pressed familiarly against him. He reminded himself repeatedly that this was definitely the wrong time and wrong place for a lust attack.

      Damn it, what was there about this defensive, elusive, hostile woman that kept getting to him? He’d dealt with several female victims during his years with the Rangers, but not one had affected him the way this one did.

      “You can let go of me now,” he murmured as he accidentally brushed his lips against the side of her neck.

      And it was an accident, he tried to convince himself. He was only nuzzling against her because she needed comfort and reassurance after her near brush with calamity.

      Shiloh tried to loosen her fierce grasp on his neck, tried not to burrow her head against his sturdy shoulder. But for those few unnerving seconds, when it felt as if the earth had dropped out from under her, panic had overwhelmed her. She had grabbed hold of Hawk and clung to him for dear life. She savored his solid strength, enjoyed the feel of his warm breath against her cold skin.

      Arousing sensations flooded through her, thoroughly baffling her. How could she possibly be attracted to this man? She still wasn’t sure if she trusted or even liked him. But he sparked the same kind of sensations that she had experienced when Antoine had taken her in his arms while they danced at parties in the palatial ballrooms of New Orleans.

      She shouldn’t have felt those vulnerable feelings then and she shouldn’t be feeling them now. With him.

      What the blazes was the matter with her?

      Aggravated with herself for experiencing pleasurable tingles she swore never to feel or trust again—and at the worst of all possible moments, and with a stranger, no less—Shiloh lurched back to brace herself against the crumbling stone wall.

      “Sorry,” she said unevenly. “My survival instincts must have caused me to get a little carried away.”

      “You have both feet beneath you now. You’ll be okay.”

      His crackling voice drew her bemused frown. “Are you all right, Hawk? Did I injure you when I threw myself at you?”

      “No.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “I’m fine.”

      He lied. He was not fine. He wasn’t even remotely close to fine. He did not want to be attracted and distracted by this prickly woman. He didn’t want the slightest emotional ties to her or any other woman. Period. He didn’t have a personal life because his professional life with the Rangers was a demanding challenge. He didn’t have the time or inclination for tender feelings that conflicted with duty.

      Unfortunately, today’s sequence of unfortunate events was conspiring against him. For one reason or another he’d had his hands all over this woman. Necessity had also demanded that he plaster his body against hers more times than he cared to count. Now he was so aware of her scent, her appearance and the feel of her that he couldn’t look at her or touch her without reacting fiercely.

      And, damn it, this had to stop! He had to concentrate on the serious task of getting them up and over Ghost Ridge to reach Sundance Canyon—a haven that held bittersweet memories that he didn’t want to deal with unless absolutely necessary.

      Which it was right now.

      Annoyed with his uncharacteristic preoccupation with this female, he clamped hold of her good arm and half dragged her uphill. He was anxious to reach the peak before total darkness descended. He gave her a boost onto the rain-slick boulder that led to the next leg of the treacherous journey.

      “This is where the horses will have the most difficulty,” he said as he gestured for her to continue on without him.

      “Dear God…”

      He heard her voice wobble, saw her drop to her knees. She clutched her stomach when she made the critical mistake of glancing at the wild tumble of boulders that filled the V-shaped arroyo beside them.

      “Look at me!” he barked sharply. “This is not the time to lose your nerve. If you can’t proceed without me, then you’ll have to wait here until I return with the horses. Find something to anchor yourself to until I get back.”

      She bowed her neck then surged from her knees to her feet. “I’ll be fine,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll—”

      “Watch out for that—” Hawk cursed mightily when she banged her head on the jutting rock.

      Her groan died beneath the report of long-range rifles. Bullets whistled over their heads and zinged off the rocks. Hawk cursed the fact that the bandits had spotted them and were trying to pin them down so they could catch up.

      Cursing inventively, Hawk scrambled over the slick boulder, trying to reach Bernie before she took another bullet or staggered so far sideways that she keeled over the ledge and bounced off every sharp-edged rock until she landed in a broken heap at the bottom of the ravine. Unfortunately, the volley of bullets startled her and she lost her footing. Hawk made a wild grab for her, but only connected with air.

      Serenaded by gunfire and the ringing in her ears caused by the blow to her forehead, Shiloh cartwheeled over a boulder. The world spun before her eyes and nausea churned in her stomach. One moment she was glancing back at Hawk and the next instant she smacked her head—hard—into the jagged overhang. And then bullets started flying.

      She shrieked in terror when she couldn’t gain her balance. But there was nothing beneath her right foot. The wind was howling like a chorus of banshees, it was spitting rain again and now the crack-shot bandits were after them.

      Wild eyed, she tried to pivot on her left foot and