the musty shadows. Then his tone softened and he bent to lift her into his arms. “Hold on to me. Let’s sit and talk for a while.”
“I want out of here. Now!” The earthen walls began to close in on her. She clung to him as he settled on the dirt floor with her on his lap.
“Just let me hold you for a while. rve got a plan, but you’ve got to calm down. Talk to me.”
The terror of her life spilled out of her. She dragged in air, forcing herself to breathe, though panic crushed her lungs and fear dampened her forehead and upper lip. “She’d lock me in closets if I didn’t perform well. When I was four, I broke my ankle and couldn’t be the ballerina she wanted. She was furious. Then the piano—one wrong note and—I can’t stand it!”
“But she isn’t here now, honey. I am.” Rio’s voice curled around her as he stroked her hair back from her face. He removed his denim jacket and draped it around her, tucking it beneath her chin. “And we’re getting out, but right now we’re just resting, okay? Here, suck on this. Suck, don’t chew. When you’re finished we’re leaving.”
He’d placed a candy in her mouth and offered her hope and comfort. Paloma curled toward him, shaking. “Don’t leave me. I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Why, honey, I came all the way to see you. I’m not leaving you. I said we’re getting out and I always keep my promises. See that timber over there. I think it will support your lighter weight, with me helping. All you have to do is to let me help you up on it and then you’ll be out, okay? Breathe, Paloma. There’s sunshine upstairs and that’s where we’re going... to the sunshine and wind and trees.”
“Hurry,” she whispered, managing to breathe more easily with hope in sight. She saw his rifle. “Shoot it. Someone will hear.”
“No. The vibrations could cause more damage.” He tipped her chin up and gave it a playful wiggle as he smiled. “You cheated. You chewed that candy, didn’t you? We’re going to take this nice and easy, and you’re going to do what I say. Okay? Can you stand?”
“Okay.” Paloma tethered her hand to Rio’s strong one as she stood shakily. He placed her arms in the jacket as though she were a child, and buttoned it to her throat. She hadn’t expected the tender look, the smoothing of her hair, his finger brushing away a bit of dust from her cheek. He reminds me of Boone. she thought. That same safe tone, as though he knows everything will be fine. She had to trust him... “What do I do?”
With Rio’s gentling voice directing her, his hand locked to hers, Paloma stepped up on the slanting timber. She eased her way upward to the end of it, and Rio placed another timber beneath her bottom, pushing her higher. At the edge, she grabbed a branch and pulled herself to the grassy surface, flattening against it.
From the depths, Rio spoke softly, his tone relieved. She hadn’t realized he’d been frightened; he’d made it seem so simple. “You made it.”
“Yes. I’ll get the horse.” She managed to get to her knees, then to her feet, nmning for the gelding. Within minutes, the horse was backing away from the cave-in, the rope tied to his saddle horn, and Rio was pulled to the surface.
He stood free, his scowl smudged with dirt, his legs braced against the earth, his leather chaps gleaming in the sunlight, his body outlined against the blue sky. When he tossed his rifle to the ground and looked at her, Paloma didn’t hesitate—she ran straight for his arms and began crying and laughing as they locked fiercely around her.
“Hey, what’s this?” he asked, his tone a mixture of humor, curiosity and delight.
Then he tipped her chin up and looked down into her eyes. “This won’t hurt a bit. But I need it like I need to breathe,” he said before his hands cradled her face and he took her mouth.
She hadn’t expected the sudden fire, the slant of his lips hungrily fused to hers. Savage and demanding, the kiss tasted of fire and need and...and dreams and longing. Caught in the whirlwind, she traveled with him, the heat growing, warming her, filling her. She ached now for him. Rio’s mouth slanted, tasted, linking them as though nothing could tear them apart. She could feel his blood pound, race, and her own leaped and heated, causing her fingertips to dig into his shoulders, to the safety of Rio, to anchor herself to him in the storm.
Deep within her, she knew that Rio had claimed a very feminine and guarded portion of her, that she’d remember this devastating kiss forever. Then his mouth moved softly over hers, comforting, brushing and seeking, tasting the corners of her lips. He held her face, cupping it in his hands, his thumbs smoothing her flushed cheeks. In his black eyes, she saw herself—a woman warmed, soft and waiting.
With a reluctant groan, Rio bent, sweeping her up into his arms, and strode toward the cabin. An independent, worldly woman, she should have objected, but her legs were weak, both from fear and from the shattering, savage, then tender kiss. One look at Rio’s dark determined expression and she knew she’d have a fight freeing herself. He was scowling, anger in the hard lock of his muscles, the set of his jaw. For once, Paloma tossed aside her pride and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He kissed her temple and whispered roughly, “We’re in sunshine now, honey. Feel the breeze. Listen to the birds sing. You’re safe.”
“Boone said that same thing years ago.” She shivered, the bands of fear closing around her chest. He shouldn’t be carrying her, a six-foot woman, like a child. But still wrapped in terror and her shocking discovery that she liked kissing Rio, Paloma wasn’t certain she could walk by herself. “You’ll put me down now,” she whispered in an effort to salvage her shields and her pride, to withdraw from what she had given him—an insight into her terror and into her needs as a woman.
“No. Shut up.”
He trembled within her arms and the pulse at Rio’s throat pounded, racing against her cheek. She recognized the fear etched in the taut lines of his jaw, the set of his mouth. “You were frightened.”
He didn’t answer, his arms tightening around her as he moved up the steps to the cabin.
“It’s the boy, isn’t it?” she asked as he carried her into the cabin. At the feed store, when Pueblo had mentioned the boy, Rio’s expression had quickly closed over pain. When he didn’t answer this time, she knew the boy haunted him. Rio had been afraid he couldn’t save her, either.
“Sit still.” He plopped her on a chair and hurriedly stoked the old stove, placing fresh water in the kettle. His movements were angry, sudden, tearing the old tin tub down from its peg and placing it on the floor. He looked at his shaking hands, the fingers spread. “You’ll want a bath. But first a cup of tea and something to eat.”
He quickly rummaged through the shelves to find chamomile tea, placing a bag in a cup and almost slammed it to the table beside her. He pushed his hands through his hair, glanced angrily at her and muttered in a disgusted tone, “You look like a child, huddled there in my jacket—frightened, shivering, wide-eyed, streaks of dirt across your nose. And damn it, your mouth—It’s swollen. I hurt you.”
He glanced at the bed, closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. He picked up the two water buckets and left the cabin.
Paloma sat and shook, her hands trembling as she sipped her tea. Rio returned, placed the buckets on the stove. With each glance, his expression darkened and his anger lashed at her. “I’ll be outside,” he said too stiffly. She sat for a time, collecting safety around her. Rio was clearly angry, the cabin still vibrating with it
She managed to kneel by the galvanized tub and wash her hair. Then she bathed, sundown skimming through the pines to enter the old glass windows. She pushed her tenor back into the past and dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans. She’d given away too much to Rio; he’d seen too much inside her. She pushed and shoved and gathered her shields; as a survivor, Paloma knew how to protect herself.
“Finished,” she said, coming out into the chilly night, her hair combed and free, falling to her waist.
“rll fix supper.” Rio had been sitting,