by Lisa Bingham
“We’re sure as hell going to try,” he said grimly.
Now that they had a good idea that the children had come the same way, Jace kept to the faint trail that Bronte was beginning to see had been trampled into the grass. But as the slope increased, growing rocky and slippery, they were forced to ease their pace. Even worse, what had been only a few isolated drops soon became a drizzle.
Bronte pulled her hat as low as she could over her brow and hunched down into the collar of her coat. But she wasn’t about to complain. Now, more than ever, she needed to know that both of the children were warm and safe.
Unfortunately, Mother Nature seemed to have other ideas. Overhead, an ominous roll of thunder began to rumble, grumble. Flashes of lightning made the gathering darkness even more pronounced.
Frantically, Bronte tried to remember. She knew she was supposed to count to determine how near the storm might be, but was she supposed to count from the lightning to the thunder, or the thunder to the lightning?
But as the weather roared in, harder and faster, it soon became apparent that there was no need to count at all. The flashes of lightning increased. At first it snaked down from the sky with jagged fingers. Then the streaks became less distinct and the slope was illuminated entirely. Worse yet, Bronte was sure that she could feel the very air begin to sizzle.
The horses must have sensed the same thing because they danced nervously, balking at Jace’s control on the reins. Finally, he was forced to turn and shout over the force of the wind.
“We’re going to have to find shelter! The cabin is located about five miles beyond that next rise, but we’re bound to get electrocuted if we try to get over it now. We’ll hunker down, then begin again once the worst of the rain has passed over.”
Bronte nodded. Much as she would like to move on, she knew such efforts would be foolish. Even if they weren’t struck by lightning, the horses were growing increasingly anxious and likely to bolt.
She saw Jace squinting as he studied the nearby landmarks. Rain dripped from the brim of his cowboy hat to darken the fabric of his jacket. He pushed himself up in the stirrups, then twisted, raising an arm to point.
“There. We’ll backtrack about forty yards. There’s a depression in the rock face over there. That, combined with some fallen boulders has created a nook. It will be a tight squeeze, but we should be out of the rain.”
Another crack of thunder was followed almost simultaneously by a snake of lightning that had the hair on Bronte’s body standing on end.
Jace spurred his mount and backtracked along the trail they had taken. Then he headed up a slope so steep that Bronte had to grab the pommel with both hands. As the wet ground gave way beneath the horses’ hooves, she feared that they wouldn’t be able to reach the scant shelter that was being offered. But then, Jace’s gelding lunged upward and Snowflake was forced to follow.
As soon as they’d reached the cliff face, Jace jumped down and reached for Bronte.
“Get in there! Far as you can!” he shouted against the noise of the wind.
Bending low, Bronte wriggled past the largest of the boulders where she could see a niche that sank a few yards into the side of the mountain. As Jace had predicted, there wouldn’t be much room—barely enough for the two of them to sit with their backs against the wall. But even in the dim light, Bronte could see that the ground was dry and littered with a cushion of leaves. Using the side of her boot, she swept away the scattered rocks, sticks, and other debris until she had made the space as comfortable as possible.
Jace crowded in behind her, holding the pack and bedroll that had been attached to his saddle.
“I’ve tied up the horses for now. With luck, the storm will blow over in a few minutes. Then we can finish our ride.”
Now that they had stopped, Bronte was becoming more and more aware of the icy rain that had seeped down her collar and soaked her jeans.
Jace handed her the woolen bedroll.
“Set this on the ground.”
Shivering, Bronte did as she was told.
“Sit down and wrap yourself in this.”
He handed her a silver space blanket and carefully tucked it around her shoulders.
“We’ve got enough of a natural vent near the opening to start a small fire if you’re cold.”
She shook her head. As much as she might crave the warmth, she didn’t want to do anything that would delay them once the weather passed.
“I … I’m okay,” she said, even as a shiver wracked through her body.
It was clear from Jace’s expression that he didn’t believe her.
Bronte sank onto the ground, gripping the tinfoil-thin blanket around her shoulders, sure that it wouldn’t offer much warmth, but needing whatever comfort it might give. Now that she was still, the cold seemed to seep into her bones. She was hardly aware of Jace’s movements as he gathered stray sticks from their hideaway and placed them over a pile of the leaves she’d brushed to the side.
“A little blaze isn’t going to slow us down. It will help to dry your clothes off.” He gestured outside. “I’m going to get a larger piece of wood, but I’ll be right back.”
Bronte nodded, pulling the blanket even tighter around her shoulders.
She wasn’t sure how long Jace was gone, but she soon became aware of the snap and hiss of a lighter, then the tang of burning wood. Looking up from her perch, she saw Jace crouched near the opening of their shelter. A flickering flame was licking at the pile of kindling, and as it caught and grew, Jace added a small log.
The wet wood had a tendency to smoke, but Bronte didn’t care. Even from a distance, she could feel some warmth wafting her way.
Shrugging out of his jacket, Jace placed it near the fire to dry out, then took another lighter jacket out of his pack.
“Come on. Out of your coat.”
Bronte wasn’t sure if she wanted to surrender its scant protection, but she did as she was told. Jace quickly wrapped her in the windbreaker and zipped it up to her chin.
“It won’t take long for things to heat up. You’ll see.”
He settled onto the ground beside her, propping his back against the granite at their backs. Then he dug into the pack again and withdrew a thermos.
“Please tell me that’s coffee.”
He grinned. “Cocoa. I brought it in case we found the kids along the way.”
Jace unscrewed the top and poured the dark liquid into the cup-shaped lid, then handed it to her. “Here. Drink.”
She didn’t need a second urging. Her first sip was taken gingerly, but finding that it was comfortably warm, she then drank deeply and handed the cup back to him.
Jace reached into his pack and withdrew a power bar. “Eat this.”
While she tore the wrapper open, Jace poured another cup of the warm cocoa, drinking half, then handing the rest to her.
“Shouldn’t we save some for the kids?”
He shook his head. “Judging by where we found the wrapper, they had plenty of time to get to the cabin. Like I said, there are supplies there for them to use. As soon as we can, we’ll head that way and make sure the two of them are okay.”
Bronte nodded, draining the rest of the cup. Not only was the liquid warm, but it was sweet and comforting, stilling her jitters and her shivers.
“You’d better drink the rest,” she said, when she handed the cup back. Judging by the size of the flask, there wouldn’t be much left. Turning her attention to her power bar, she took tiny bites, more to calm herself than anything.
By the time she ate the last piece, she was feeling much calmer as well as warmer. The fire had stopped smoking, and the heat was seeping into their shelter.
Jace cocked his head, listening to the storm, but even to Bronte’s inexperienced ears, it hadn’t abated.
He reached into his magical pack again and handed her a bottle of water, then grabbed one for himself as well. “You need to keep hydrated, so drink up.”
She nodded, but took small si
ps.
As soon as Jace had finished his own power bar, he slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tightly against him. With each minute that passed, Bronte’s worry increased.
“What if the rain doesn’t pass before it gets completely dark?”
“Sunset isn’t for another”—he glanced at his watch—“three hours. It seems later because of the cloud cover. Hopefully, this is a typical spring storm. It will bluster like hell for a little while, then the wind will blow the clouds away and we’ll have sunny skies again.”
Bronte scowled. “You don’t have to paint a best-case scenario, Jace. I can take the truth.”
*
IN an instant, Jace was undone. Bronte looked up at him with such fire in her eyes that he couldn’t tear his own gaze away. Yet, beneath that blaze of independence, there was still a trace of vulnerability. One he would do anything to protect.
They’d known each other now for what … a little over a month? But he couldn’t imagine going a day or more without some form of contact. She had become as necessary to him as breathing.
The thought should have surprised him. No. It should have terrified him. Jace had always been a loner. Even growing up, while Elam and Bodey had gravitated toward their friends, Jace had preferred to spend his time alone. His idea of fun had been grabbing a fishing pole and heading to the creek, or taking his horse up into the mountains. Once he’d begun to concentrate on his artistic pursuits … well, he could lose himself for hours in sketching or painting. Maybe that was how he’d managed to spend two years backpacking Europe. He’d been more than content to establish his own itinerary and his own pace.
When he’d returned home to Bliss, his biggest worry had been that he wouldn’t be able to fold himself back into the family unit. He was sure that once he’d assumed responsibility for Barry, he’d go stark, raving mad if he had no time of his own. So when he’d become itchy and anxious for a change, he’d assumed that he needed to disappear for a few months, go away, leave everyone behind.
But he knew now that he’d been wrong. Even if he’d managed to leave the ranch for the most exotic of vacations, he would have found himself just as unhappy. Bronte had shown him that he wasn’t searching for solitude. What he’d really needed was an intimate connection with another human being—one that went beyond mere physical desire.
Since meeting Bronte, he’d felt a peace in his soul that he’d never experienced before. The restlessness, the discontent, the longing for something new had disappeared.
But she was right in her assertion that she could handle more than half-truths. She was strong enough to make decisions for herself.
“Okay … here’s the worst-case scenario. Barry is a good horseman. He’s been riding since he was a baby—and the horses have been a big part of his recovery. But, there’s always a chance that he could have wandered off the track. Or, the horse could have been startled and thrown them off.”
Bronte bit her lip, but didn’t interrupt.
“But I’m pinning my hopes on the fact that they made it to the cabin. Although the lightning seems to have eased, the storm still hasn’t blown over.” A glance at his watch told him that they’d been hunkered down in their makeshift shelter for more than twenty minutes. “I don’t know. Maybe we could go ahead and push our way through. But this high up—and with lightning still a very real threat—the idea is foolhardy. We can’t go anywhere on horseback until we have a little more light. I could never endanger a mount by making it travel blind over wet, unfamiliar ground that way. One misstep could cause a horse to break a leg or worse. We could proceed on foot—not an impossible hike—but if the storm decides to quit in the next ten or fifteen minutes, we’ll be stuck hiking when, if we’d been patient, we could have ridden and made it there faster.”
He glanced at his watch. “Why don’t we give it another … fifteen minutes?”
She nodded, her gaze inexplicably flooding with relief that her waiting finally had a deadline.
“After that, we hike,” she reaffirmed.
“Yeah.”
He drew her back into his arms, holding her close, absorbing the way she clung to him as if he were the only anchor in a tempestuous sea. And he realized that she wasn’t the only person needing the reassurance of another person’s arms. Bronte soothed his raw nerves, her hope giving him hope. Her strength giving him the will to be stronger. He needed this in his life. He needed her.
Jace knew that some people might argue that he was merely in the throes of a new romance and the excitement would soon pass. But Jace had never felt this way with any other woman. Sure, he desired her—and he couldn’t wait to see what new sexual experience would come out of her infinite curiosity. But it was more than that. He was content holding her in his arms, or talking to her on the phone, or receiving one of her texts. He found himself longing to experience even more—a date at a fancy restaurant, their first dance together, waking to her head next to his on the pillow. He wanted long, lazy nights in front of the television, and having her sit next to him on the tractor’s jump seat while he worked. He wanted …
Her.
Passionately.
Permanently.
Jace remembered when Elam had returned from four days spent in P.D.’s company during the Wild West Games last year. Somehow, in a little more than a week, P.D. had transformed his brother from a grieving widower to a man with his eyes on the future. Jace had worried that his brother was rushing into a commitment without really exploring his options. But when Jace had suggested that Elam should “play the field,” Elam had laughed and slapped him on the back, saying, “Sometimes a person doesn’t need a whole lot of choices to know he’s already found the best one.”
At the time, Jace had thought his brother was ignoring the fact that, after falling so quickly under P.D.’s spell, he could fall out of love just as quickly.
But Elam had proven to be right. He and P.D. were as passionate and devoted to each other now as they’d been in those first heady days of their romance. Jace wasn’t surprised that they’d decided to make their engagement a short one and marry in October. He was only surprised it had taken so long for Elam to pop the question.
For the first time in his own life, Jace felt a longing for that kind of permanence, that ultimate sense of belonging. He felt a tug in his heart at the mere thought, and he held Bronte even tighter. True, he wasn’t quite ready to pull the trigger on marriage. He didn’t think there was a man alive who jumped headlong into something like that without a few qualms. But he did find himself thinking about someday. Maybe even someday soon.
He smiled at the thought. If someone had told him mere months ago that he might be thinking of hooking up with a single mother with two children, he would have laughed. He had enough on his plate with Barry.
But even though he knew it would be a challenge adding two more kids to the mix, Jace couldn’t deny that he’d grown fond of the girls. Lily was sweet and sensitive and loyal. And after his talk with Kari, Jace was beginning to believe her teenage bluster was more show than actual sentiment. He sensed that the two of them missed their father more than they would ever want to admit to Bronte. But they wanted the man they’d known when he was clean and sober, not the bastard Phillip was now. Maybe they wouldn’t mind having someone around the house who would give them some attention, support, and a healthy dose of protective testosterone. Just like he and Barry could use a feminine perspective every now and then.
But first …
His phone rang in his pocket and Jace hurried to answer it. “Yeah.”
There was a crackle on the other line, then a stuttering voice.
“Who is it?” Bronte whispered.
Grimacing, Jace shrugged and pushed himself to his feet. “Hold it, you’re breaking up.”
As he moved closer toward the entrance, he was surprised anyone had been able to call. Phone service up here was spotty at best.
“Okay, try again.”
“Jace?”
&nb
sp; He was barely able to make out Elam’s voice.
“Yeah. Did the kids show up at home?”
“No …” Jace lost several words and shifted in an attempt to improve the sound quality. “… finished with the police … bad news …”
No. God, no.
“Did the police find them?”
“No.” Jace heard Elam swear, then he began again, pronouncing each word slowly and distinctly. “New sheriff … prick.”
Jace grimaced. Bliss’s longtime sheriff had recently retired and Jace had to agree that his replacement was overly concerned with throwing his weight around. He was a by-the-book cop from back east who seemed determined to write up as many tickets as he could to prove that his services were invaluable. That thought alone was enough to cause Jace’s stomach to twist in foreboding.
“… claims Barry … abduction …”
“What the hell?”
“… tried to reason … without … success …” The phone crackled ominously. “… you … get … cabin first …”
Jace didn’t need all the words to understand the warning. The new sheriff was hot on their trail and Jace needed to be the first to find the children.
“Jace?”
“I heard you, Elam.”
“I—”
Jace waited, shifting slightly to see if he could improve the signal. But he’d lost the call altogether.
Shit, shit, shit.
Jace didn’t even bother to check the weather outside. He reached for his water bottle, poured what remained over the fire, then started kicking dirt over the embers.
“That was Elam. We’ve got to go now.”
Bronte didn’t need to be told twice. But as soon as she tried to stand, she hissed in pain.
“Sore, huh?” Jace asked ruefully as he kicked the remains of their fire apart, looking for any stray embers, then doused the last of the sparks with dirt.
“I’ll be fine,” Bronte said as airily as she could.
Jace pulled her into his arms and placed a quick kiss on the top of her head. “I know you will. I never doubted it. So you don’t have to act all tough with me. I’m not going to leave you behind.”
