by Amy Sandas
The warmth of his presence was becoming too familiar.
He did not have to touch her for her to know he was there. She did not have hear or see him to imagine his movements.
“It looks better,” he said in that low voice.
“It feels better,” she acknowledged.
The first cool touch of salve on her upper back had her drawing a swift breath, but the cream was soon warmed by the spread of his fingers, and a sigh slid from her lips. After a bit, she turned her head and rested her cheek on her knees as she allowed her eyes to close.
She wasn’t sure whether the physical challenges of the day, the tingling effects of the medicinal salve, or the soothing comfort of his touch was what had her body slowly relaxing. One moment she was breathing softly and steadily, listening to the sounds of night animals and the flow of the nearby creek, and in the next moment, she felt Gabriel rising behind her and heard him replacing the jar in the saddlebag.
“I’m going to see to the horses.”
Eve remained unmoving on her blanket long after he left her alone.
There had been something odd in his voice when he’d spoken. The low, soothing rhythm had been layered with a new roughness. It was subtle, but Eve had heard it. She’d felt it. Like the brush of raw silk over bare skin—soft and textured.
She remained as she was for quite a while, knowing he wouldn’t return until the salve had soaked into her skin and she was returned to a state of full dress. She also knew he was close enough to be at her side in a moment if she called out a need for him.
Outlaw. Captor. Protector.
Eventually, the chill of the night mountain air urged her to replace her clothing and don the thick coat. Curling up on the bedroll, she tucked her blanket snugly beneath her chin and drew her bent legs close to her chest. Already, a persistent nighttime chill crowded around her. Once the campfire died down, she would have a difficult time keeping the cold at bay.
Would Gabriel insist on sleeping beside her again?
Did she want him to?
A swift tightening in her belly did not give her the answer. Carrying with it a feeling of trepidation and anticipation, it only gave rise to more questions.
Though her eyes were closed and his steps made no noise on the soft forest floor, she knew the moment Gabriel returned. She knew his silent, measured approach by the acceleration of her heart rate and the way her senses seemed to reach for him, seeking the sound of his breath, the scents of cedar, horse, and wool she had come to associate with him.
So, she was not surprised to find him so close when he finally spoke.
“The night will get colder. Will you accept my warmth?” he asked. The low timbre of his voice rolled gently over her nerves, eliciting delicate chills that had nothing to do with the mountain air.
Refusing the warmth he offered out of pride would only hurt her. It was the logical and practical choice to accept. An act of prudence. Of survival.
Then why did it feel so intimate?
Her response was no more than a whisper. “I will.”
He must have heard her since he lowered himself to the ground behind her. Again, he was careful not to touch her, but remained close enough to block much of the night wind.
She should probably be worried about allowing him to get so close. She should be more discerning in regard to the comfort and security he offered in multiple ways, both obvious and subtle.
But she was tired, and the heat from his body quickly soaked through her blanket and the layers of clothing she wore. Within minutes, she drifted to sleep.
* * *
Gabriel woke slowly the next morning, just as the sun was starting to send its light into the sky, the golden rays framing the eastern mountaintops like a crown.
The air was cold enough for him to see his breath, but he was quite warm.
Some hours ago, the woman sleeping beside him had shifted closer. He had been awakened by the subtle movement, his muscles tensing as he waited for her to become aware of what she was doing. But she never did. And as her body met his, she curved her spine to better fit her slim back along the length of his side.
It had taken him a while to fall asleep again as the quiet passage of her breath matched the rise and fall of his chest.
She had stayed there—snug to his side—the rest of the night. But now it was morning, and Gabriel sensed she would not wish to awaken in such a position.
Carefully, he eased himself away from her and rose to his feet.
He went first to check on the horses, then stepped off to relieve himself. They would reach the valley tonight if they made good time. Tomorrow, if the way was difficult. Then Gabriel would explain the situation to Luke, and his responsibility to Eve would be at an end.
He should feel relieved.
He felt many things, but relief was not one of them.
Taking a deep breath to dispel the uncomfortable tension in his chest, he lifted his gaze to the swiftly lightening sky. He frowned and drew a long inhale through his nose. Though the stretch of pale blue overhead was without clouds, there was a sense of something approaching on the wind.
He returned to the camp to see that the woman had risen and was seated close to the smoking embers of the fire. Her bedroll had already been tied up.
She looked up at his approach, and he saw nothing in her gaze to suggest she was aware of how closely they’d slept. He quickly cut off the keen prick of disappointment. She had not intentionally sought solace from him in the night. It had been nothing more than a body’s instinctive craving for warmth.
He understood that. It was senseless to imagine anything else.
He went to his shoulder bag and withdrew some hardtack and jerky. She rose to her feet as he came toward her and accepted the meager offering from his hand.
“Bad weather is coming,” he said. “We’ll need to get ahead of it.”
She tipped her head back to look up at him. Her gaze was thoughtful, searching. Then a faint blush pinkened her cheeks.
Perhaps she recalled something of the night before after all.
“It’ll be a rough day,” he added.
“I understand.”
“Your back?”
Her gaze flickered, but she did not look away. “It’s better. I do not need the salve this morning.”
He searched her features for any indication she was not being truthful. He saw none.
“Ten minutes.”
She nodded, and Gabriel walked away to ready the horses.
Sixteen
The bad weather hit midday and gradually worsened. Wind and rain slanted and swirled as they trudged along narrow paths and steep inclines. For several hours, the horses fought to keep their footing on rain-slick rocks or slogged through mud that sucked at their hooves.
Eve was soaking wet down to her skin and cold clear through her bones. While her oiled coat did much to ward off the wetness for a while, even that lost its usefulness when her hair became wet and water dripped down her neck to soak everything beneath. Her teeth chattered, and her hands were nearly numb as they gripped the reins. But she’d been in this state for so many hours now, she wasn’t sure she could remember how it felt to be otherwise.
And still they trudged on.
Eve found herself grateful for how dutifully her horse followed Gabriel’s while allowing her to lower her head and tuck her chin toward her chest to keep the pelting rain from her face. It became all she could do to hold on to the saddle horn and keep her feet in the stirrups as they inched their way around rocky outcroppings before starting a winding ascent along a narrow, rocky ledge with the mountain rising high on one side and dropping off sharply on the other.
Water not only fell from the sky, but also flowed down the mountainside in swift streams that crossed the trail on its way down. Gritting her teeth and closing her eyes against the si
ght of just how swiftly they could slip or stumble and fall to a certain death, she placed her faith in Gabriel’s guidance and her horse’s abilities. If continuing onward got them out of the elements that much sooner, she could endure the wet and cold and a terrain that grew more and more treacherous as the rain continued to fall.
Finally, they had reached a slight broadening of the path. Pine trees cropped up along the trail, providing intermittent shelter. A sudden, fierce gust of wind swept against them, sending the rain in a slant. If Eve hadn’t found the strength to grip hard to the saddle horn, the wind might have sent her toppling from her horse’s back.
Gabriel kept them close to the mountainside, but he must have given his mount some added encouragement because their pace picked up by half.
Sometime later—though perhaps it was only a few minutes—they turned toward the mountain face. It took Eve a moment to realize that they weren’t riding straight into a hard rock wall; that there was a crevice that angled into the mountain. As soon as they entered it, the flurry of wind softened, though she could still hear it whirling against the rock, and the rain continued to fall from above in great torrents.
The crevice was perhaps ten feet wide at its opening but continued to narrow with each step. When they got to a point where the horses could go no farther, Gabriel stopped and turned back to her. Water ran down the planes of his face in never-ending rivulets. “We’ll stop here for the night.”
“Here?” Eve’s voice came out tight and short from her chattering jaw.
“There’s a small cave.”
She nodded stiffly.
After dismounting, Eve followed Gabriel into the recesses of the crevice. The muscles in her legs trembled with every step, and her spine ached from fatigue.
What he had called a cave was little more than the end of the crevice where the mountain formed a rocky overhang to shelter beneath.
Gabriel lowered himself to settle his back against one wall of the cave while he propped his foot against the opposite wall. Looking up, he lifted his hand toward her. “Come.”
Exhausted and cold, she put her hand in his. He gently drew her down to sit between his legs, positioning her so she rested sideways against him. Her lower back rested against his braced leg and her head fell against his shoulder while her legs curled between his.
With one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders and the other across her hips, he served as a source of comfort and warmth in that tiny cave.
“We’ll stay here until the rain lets up,” he murmured roughly. “Rest. Sleep if you can.”
The words, spoken low and so close to her ear she could feel the brush of his breath against her neck, caused a roll of heat in her center. For a second, she was tempted to burrow deeper into his arms and nearly turned to nestle her face against his warm throat. It would have been an instinctive attempt at seeking comfort. But even understanding the base need that motivated the desire to get closer to him, she was stunned by how deep the longing went.
Of course, she refrained from acting on the impulse. But not without a twinge of regret for all the things that held her back.
Unable to do much of anything except shiver for a good long while, it was some time before Eve began to experience an easing of the tension in her limbs. With the mountain sheltering them from the worst of the weather and the horses standing sentry at the entrance to the little cave, she soon began to feel almost cozy.
Admittedly, a great deal of that was due to the man who cushioned and cradled her body with his own. She could not imagine that the rocky wall at his back was very comfortable, but at least the body heat shared between them made the heavy wetness of their clothing nearly bearable.
All notions of propriety dictated that she should be resisting the physical contact. She should at least feel some trepidation at being held so intimately. But all she could acknowledge was a pervading sense of peace.
And as soon as she felt that, she slipped into sleep.
She had no idea how long she’d slept when she was awakened by Gabriel’s warm, dark voice. “Time to be on our way.”
Eve stirred slowly and with great effort. As she came to full wakefulness, she realized that although she could still hear the rush of wind against rock, there was no rainfall.
Opening her eyes, she saw that it was full night. A glance outward from their shelter showed a faint glow of inconstant moonlight trying to push through swift-moving clouds.
“It’s still night,” she stated, though of course, he knew that.
“It will be dawn soon. We must make our way over the rise before the skies open again.”
“You expect more rain?”
She took the low sound that rolled from the back of his throat to be a yes.
Reluctantly and tentatively, she shifted her legs and tried to sit upright.
Gabriel’s arms fell away. He remained still and patient as she struggled to bring life back to her limbs and strength to her spine, while holding back the groan of pain as the soreness in her body became apparent.
“Can you rise?” he asked.
The thin layer of concern in his voice was enough to awaken Eve’s pride. “I’m fine.”
With clenched teeth, she pushed herself to her feet, bracing her hand on the rocky wall to steady herself as the stiffness in her body started to ease.
Meanwhile, Gabriel rose beside her in one graceful, effortless roll of his large body.
After a brief glance, likely to ensure she wouldn’t collapse, he went first to her horse, checking the animal over for any distress. Then he looked to Eve and nodded.
His expression, though stoic as usual, still somehow conveyed subtle and patient concern, a slight question, and confidence all at once.
Eve shook off as much of her physical discomfort as she could manage and walked toward him.
Within minutes they were on their way again, heading ever upward along the twisting, turning trail. Making their way by the shifting light of the moon and Gabriel’s knowledge of the path. After maybe an hour or so, the sky started to lighten with shades of lavender and gray. And shortly after that, they crested a dramatic rise.
Gabriel brought his horse to a stop and waited for Eve’s mount to come up beside him.
Together, they gazed out at the misty landscape spread out before them. Imposing peaks rose all around, their sharp angles a striking contrast against the cloudy sky. And far below, deep, shadowed crevices cut through the rock to make space for pine trees and hidden wildlife.
It was a severe landscape and a forbidding one.
Eve never would have imagined such a place existed. It was beautiful and frightening. But the fear it inspired was invigorating because she was going be passing through those rocky passes and over the harsh ridges. The smell of the pines was already becoming familiar to her, as were the movement of her horse over the uneven terrain and the sight of Gabriel’s broad shoulders leading the way.
She turned to look at the man beside her.
He sat straight and still on his horse. His eyes gazed outward, surveying the path ahead, but Eve suspected a greater focus was directed inward. He seemed to be contemplating something that went beyond the question of what route to take.
She wanted to ask him what he was thinking.
She shouldn’t care.
She did.
Then he turned his head, and his steady gaze found hers. Warmth unfurled in her center. Warmth and a strange but undeniable sense of assurance. Despite the difficult way ahead, he would see her safely through it.
“There will be more rain, but today, we will reach the valley,” he said.
Eve swallowed down the small rise of trepidation. “I’m ready.”
Gabriel gave a nod. Turning back to the path ahead, he uttered a soft command, and his horse started down the rise.
Seventeen
They ma
de it a few hours through the hazy morning before the clouds darkened overhead and rain poured down in steady, unrelenting streams. Within a short time, Eve was once again soaked through to the skin and shivering from head to toe.
Despite the miserable conditions, she decided quite forcefully to be grateful that at least they were not being buffeted by constant swirling wind. She was also becoming more and more grateful for the sure-footed horse that continued to carry her through the rocky mountain passes with very little direction from her as the hours spread out in an endless practice in endurance.
As expected, Gabriel said very little throughout the day. But his presence remained a strong reminder that she was not alone along the forbidding trail, even though he seemed barely affected by the harsh conditions.
As the heavy gray of day started to make way for the dark of night, the path they were on began to take a sharp descent. Lifting her chin from where it was tucked in toward her chest, Eve saw that they had entered a long and narrow valley. The rain and quickly darkening sky made it difficult to see much, but as they continued forward, she could vaguely make out the shape of a building tucked against the far end of the valley, where thick, dark pines rose not far beyond.
Her relief was intense. Shelter. Warmth.
Outlaws.
As they got closer, Eve realized that the large building she’d glimpsed through the rain was actually two. The first was a barn, and beyond that stood a long building made of logs in a single story. There was a door in the center that was covered by a short little roof, with a row of windows stretching out to either side. Only a couple of the windows were lit from within, but that was enough to confirm the building was occupied.
Gabriel dismounted as soon as they reached a hitching post to the left of the door. Without even bothering to tie up his horse, he strode to her side.
Releasing her feet from the stirrups, she tried to swing her leg over the saddle, but she was so waterlogged and fatigued that she couldn’t manage it. Instead, she nearly tumbled from the horse into the arms of the outlaw.
