To Love & Protect Her (6 page)

She shivered, then wrapped her arms around herself. Finally Griff walked over to her. “It looks like
you're cold. Do you want to wait until it warms up a bit?”

“I'm fine,” she said. “I'll warm up as soon as we start walking.”

“Let's go, then,” he said. He hoisted the backpack he'd had in the trunk onto his shoulders and led the way out of the clearing surrounding the cabin.

The mountain rose behind the circle of trees that ringed the house, but there was a path that seemed to lead through the boulders and the bushes. Griff started out on it, then turned and waited for her to catch up with him.

“How are you doing?”

“I'm doing great,” she said. And she was. The winter air was crisp and clean, and felt fresh on her tongue. “This was a good idea.”

He gave her a nod, but she saw the warm approval in his eyes. She would keep up with him no matter what, she vowed.

They hiked steadily upward as the sun rose in the sky, warming her and the rocks that surrounded them. She unbuttoned her jacket and finally took it off, wrapping it around her waist. Griff maintained an even pace as they moved up the mountain. She managed to keep up with him, but she wished she'd spent more time at the health club in the last few months. Griff had been right. The air was thinner here in the mountains, and she was already breathing more heavily.

“We're about halfway to the top of this peak,” he
said, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Let's stop here for a while.”

“We can go as high as you like,” she said, struggling not to pant. “I'm doing fine.”

He stepped off the path and pulled her down onto a large boulder. “You're doing great. You must be in wonderful shape.” He hadn't let go of her hand, and he absently rubbed it between both of his. “I stopped because we both need to go more slowly than usual until we get used to the altitude.”

It felt to her as if sparks flew off her hand as he continued to caress it, but he didn't seem to notice. She struggled to catch her breath, but she suspected that the altitude had nothing to do with her sudden difficulty breathing. Griff's closeness and the way he was touching her were responsible.

“Did you have a particular reason for coming up here?” she finally asked.

He shrugged and leaned forward, trapping her hand between his knees. “I just wanted to get a look at the area. It's always smart to know where you are and what's around you.”

“As in, looking for an escape route?”

He shot her a quick glance, and she thought there was admiration in his eyes. “You figure things out quickly.”

“It wasn't that tough,” she answered, her voice dry. “After watching you set all your little traps before we left the cabin this morning, it wasn't a big leap to realize you wanted to figure out a route away from the cabin.”

“You never know when we'll need to have a way out.” He looked away from her, and she saw his gaze scan the horizon. “You always want to have a back door.”

“And what's our back door in this case?” She tried to keep her voice light, but she knew that Griff was telling her something important. He would always have a back door, in every aspect of his life. He had probably been able to slip away from every woman who had fallen for him over the years—using one of his back doors.

She eased her hand away from his and curled it into her lap. She told herself she was doing the smart thing, but she suddenly felt much colder.

“There's only the one road,” he said slowly, pointing to the narrow dirt track they'd taken to the cabin. “So we couldn't drive out any other way. But there's always this pile of rocks. As a last resort, they could hide you for a while. Especially at night.”

He turned to face her. “Remember that, Willa. If something happens in the cabin, don't get in the car and start driving. Run out here instead, and hide until you can get a good look around. Don't leave the area until you're sure that there isn't anyone waiting for you on the road.”

She shivered in spite of the warm sun on her back. “Nothing is going to happen at the cabin,” she said, her voice insistent. “No one aside from Ryan knows where we are. There's no way anyone could find us.”

“I hope to God that's true.” His voice was sober,
and he looked around broodingly. “But don't forget about this back door, and use it if you have to.”

“You're giving me the creeps,” she said, and she stood. “Let's check out the view from the top of this pile of rocks.”

He stood too, but didn't start walking. “Maybe we've done enough for one day. Are you sure you want to keep going?”

“Of course I want to keep going. We might find another one of your back doors from the top of this hill.”

“All right, but we'll take it nice and slow. I don't want you falling on your bum when I'm not looking.”

“Don't worry. I'll give you plenty of warning if I'm going to fall.”

He looked over his shoulder to give her a grin, and it stole her breath away. “You've got a sassy mouth on you, Willa Simms. Are all American women like you?”

“I don't know,” she said, willing her racing heart to slow down. “Are all Aussie men dark and brooding and wild?”

He grinned at her again. “They'd like to think so. But most of them are like my brothers, upstanding citizens and all-around good guys.”

“Don't you belong in that category, too?” she asked.

His grin disappeared. “No one is ever going to call me an upstanding citizen, let alone a good guy.”

“I don't know,” she said quietly. “I think you're a pretty good guy.”

He didn't answer, but she knew he had heard her, because his shoulders tightened. After a long time, he said, “Don't wear those rose-colored glasses when you look at me, Willa. I'm not one of the good guys.”

“If you weren't one of the good guys, you wouldn't be here with me.”

“I'm here with you precisely because I'm
not
a good guy. Why do you think Ryan asked me to check on you and look at your security system? It was because I know far more than any good guy ever will about the bad things that can happen to people.”

“I've heard the rumors about what you do for a living. Are they true?”

He turned to give her a smile, but there wasn't an ounce of humor in the grim curve of his lips. “I'm sure none of them are true. People like you and the Fortunes can't imagine the kind of things I do. You're all far too nice to visualize my world.”

“If that's true, it just makes you more willing than most of us to do what needs to be done. And makes you more of a good guy than I thought.”

He shook his head, weariness in his eyes. “Don't be naive, Willa. No one does what I do, day after day, year after year, without having it stain his soul. Believe me, there's nothing noble about what I do. And not even your American optimism can make it so.”

“Don't sell yourself short, Griff,” she answered quietly. “And don't even bother trying to convince me that you're the devil incarnate. It won't work.”

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug, turning away
from her and walking more quickly up the trail. “But don't be surprised when your pet dog turns and bites you.”

“You're not going to hurt me,” she said, hurrying to keep up with him. “And nothing you can say will make me believe that you would.”

He didn't answer, and they hiked in silence for a while, walking steadily uphill. Willa realized she was beginning to gasp for breath. They weren't that high—the mountains around El Paso ranged from 4,000 to about 7,000 feet. But for someone used to living at close to sea level, that was a big difference.

She was just about to ask Griff to slow down, when they reached the top of the hill. Griff stood in front of her for a moment, turning slowly to take in the view, then he looked at her.

“Pretty spectacular,” he said, his voice impersonal. It was as if their conversation of a few minutes ago had never taken place.

“It's magnificent.” She turned slowly, ignoring Griff, just drinking in the sight. Miles and miles of Texas and Mexico unfolded in front of them, mountain peaks rising, purple and red, from the barren-looking, dun-colored desert, which was only interrupted by scattered patches of dark green. “It's certainly worth the hike.”

She turned and peered down in the direction of the cabin. “Look, you can barely see the cabin. It almost looks swallowed by the trees around it.”

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked gruffly.

She looked over at him with surprise. “I'm fine. Why?”

“I should have gone more slowly up this last part of the trail. You can't be used to hiking at this altitude.”

“I'm fine,” she said again, vowing she wouldn't say anything that would give away the fact that a headache was beginning to throb beneath her temples. She was tired of feeling like an invalid. She'd only gotten a small bump on the head, for crying out loud. Griff was acting as if she'd practically been bludgeoned senseless.

“Let's sit down and eat something.”

Her stomach rolled once at the thought of food, but she sat down. “I didn't realize you'd put anything into that pack of yours.”

“I didn't. I always carry some nuts or candy and water in my pack.” He stared at her with a challenge in his eyes. “I never know when I'll get stuck in a tight spot and need it.”

“Thank goodness for that. I'm getting a little thirsty.”

He passed her water in a plastic bottle, and she drank it down. Setting the empty bottle on the rock beside her, she looked at it, amazed. “I didn't realize I was
that
thirsty.”

“This altitude can dehydrate you pretty quickly.” His gaze searched her face. “Are you light-headed at all?”

“Not a bit,” she lied. In fact, her head was beginning to feel detached from her body. “If I sit here for
a few minutes and catch my breath, I'll be ready to start back down the trail.”

Griff tried to hand her a candy bar, but she shook her head. “No, thanks. I'm not hungry.”

He gave her a searching look, but didn't say anything. Eating his own candy bar slowly, he drank some of his water, then passed her the bottle.

She eyed it longingly, but shook her head. “I've had my fill.” She wasn't about to take water away from Griff. He was bigger than she was, and he undoubtedly needed more.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she said firmly. It wouldn't take nearly as long to get back down the mountain. Then she could have as much water as she wanted.

They sat quietly for a while, and eventually her breathing sounded less raspy and strained. Her head still ached, but she was determined to ignore it. When Griff said, “Ready to go?” she nodded.

Griff led the way again, and she followed him down the trail. Her shoes caught on a loose rock, and she slid for a foot or so. Catching herself on a boulder alongside the trail, she looked up to find Griff beside her.

“Are you all right?”

“I just slipped on a rock,” she said, holding onto him as the world spun slowly around her. “I'll watch where I'm going.”

He stood and looked at her, and she could see the worry in his eyes. “I think we came too far up,” he said finally.

“Don't be silly,” she replied, standing and pulling her jacket more tightly around her waist. “I'm fine.”

But as she began to walk again, they rounded a turn in the trail. Instead of following the curve, she stepped off the edge of the trail—and into the air.

G
riff heard the clatter of rocks behind him and was spinning around even before he heard Willa's high-pitched, terrified scream. She tumbled over the edge of the trail and seemed to fall in slow motion away from him. He grabbed for her arm, and fell onto the rocks, but she was gone before he could catch her.

“Willa?” he called, holding his breath to hear her voice.

“I'm okay, I think.” Her voice came from below him, and although it was shaky, it sounded damn wonderful.

Afraid that the edge of the trail had crumbled and broken off, he wriggled over to the drop-off on his stomach. Willa had landed on a small ledge about ten feet below him. She sat there, a bewildered look on her face, and stared up at him.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice sharp.

“I don't think so.” He could see her move her legs and feet. “Everything seems to be working.”

“What happened? Did the rock crumble on the trail?”

She shifted her gaze away from him. “I don't think so.”

“Then how did you fall?”

“I just fell,” she said, but she still wouldn't look up at him.

“Willa, something's wrong.” His voice sharpened even more, and he swung his leg over the side of the small cliff. “I'm coming down there.”

“Don't,” she said, finally looking at him. “I know what's wrong. I let myself get light-headed and dizzy from the altitude and didn't say anything to you. Okay? Are you satisfied?”

Her voice sounded belligerent, but he could see the flags of color on her cheeks and the embarrassment in her eyes, even from this distance.

“All right,” he said, and made his voice soothing. “Let's not worry about why it happened. Let's get you off that little ledge.”

He opened his pack to remove the small coil of rope he stored there, praying that it would be strong enough to lift Willa. He didn't like the look of that small outcropping of rock. The rock around him was soft and crumbling, and all he could see in his mind's eye was the ledge giving way and Willa falling endlessly away from him.

The rope was just long enough to reach to the ledge and Willa. “Can you tie this around your waist?” he called, keeping his voice calm and even.

“I think so.”

“Do you know how to tie a bowline knot?”

“No.” She looked up at him. “But if you talk me through it, I'm sure I could learn.”

They didn't have time for Willa to learn how to tie
the complicated knot. As she shifted on the ledge to loop the rope around her waist, a small piece of the rock flaked off and fell. It was a long time before he heard it hit on the boulders below.

“Don't worry about it. Just tie a square knot. You can do that, can't you?”

“I'm not an idiot,” she snapped, and he relaxed slightly. If she could snap at him, she couldn't be hurt too badly.

“All right,” she called after a few moments. “I've got the rope tied.”

Griff tied the other end around his own waist, then looked around for something to use to brace himself. There was a tiny mesquite bush on the other side of the trail. It was pitifully small, but it would have to do. Wrapping his legs around the thin trunk, he pulled up the slack in the rope.

“I'm going to pull you slowly up the side of the cliff,” he called to Willa. “All you need to do is walk up the rocks. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” she called. He heard the fear in her voice.

“Let me know when you're ready.”

“I'm ready.”

He began to pull, slowly but steadily. The rope vibrated in his hands as Willa banged against the rocks. He could hear her panting and cursing under her breath, but she didn't ask him to stop, didn't beg for him to go more slowly. She just kept scrabbling against the rocks as he pulled her upward.

When he saw the top of her head at the edge of the
cliff, he gave a hard pull, and she slid over the edge. She lay face down on the trail and didn't move.

His heart pounding in his chest, he untangled himself from the mesquite bush and scrambled to get to her. Had she hurt herself on the ascent? Had she banged her head again?

Just as he reached her, she turned her head and gave him a wobbly smile. “Nice job, Fortune.”

“My God, Willa. Are you hurt?”

She shook her head and gathered herself to sit up. “Only my pride.”

He couldn't stop himself. Before he could think about what he was doing, before he could tell himself to be smart, he'd snatched her up into his arms and pulled her against him.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered into her hair, holding her more tightly.

She pulled away far enough to look at him. “What on earth are you sorry for?”

“For taking you up this damn mountain. I knew you'd had a knock on the head yesterday. I should have kept you in the cabin.”

“The fact that I fell off the cliff was not your fault,” she said firmly. “It's my own stupidity and pride that are to blame. I'm the one who ignored the symptoms of altitude sickness and insisted on going on. I was feeling light-headed even before we got to the top of the mountain. So don't blame yourself.”

He couldn't let her go, not yet. “Why didn't you tell me you were feeling light-headed? Why didn't you tell me you needed to go back?”

“Because I didn't want you to think I was a weak, needy woman,” she said, and the disgust in her voice almost made him smile. “Because I thought I could tough it out until we got back to the cabin. Instead, I endangered us both.”

He pulled her against him again, and instead of trying to get away, she snuggled closer. “I don't think of you as a weak and needy woman. In fact, you're so strong that you terrify me. I'm not sure you need me at all. I think you can do anything you set your mind to, Willa.”

“I wish that were true,” she murmured against his chest.

“Tell me one thing you want to do that you can't do,” he demanded.

When she didn't answer, he looked down at her. She looked steadily back, although the red flags were waving in her cheeks again. And beneath the embarrassment, he saw need in her eyes. Need for him, he realized, and he felt as if he'd taken a gut punch.

“What is it that you want to do?” he whispered. He knew he should back away, knew he should let go of her, but he couldn't do it.

He didn't think she was going to answer, but she leaned closer to him. “I want to kiss you,” she said, her voice soft as the delicate breeze that caressed his face.

He held her gaze steadily as she leaned closer to him. Her face flamed, but she didn't stop. When she brushed his mouth with hers, his whole body clenched with desire.

She would have backed away after that one slight touch of her mouth, but he wouldn't let her go. Framing her face with his hands, he took her mouth again. This time, he wanted to taste her. This time, he wanted to feel her need growing inside her, to know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. This time, he wanted to wrap himself around her and hold on tight.

He was making a mistake, a distant voice tried to warn him. He was going down a path he would regret taking, making choices that would come back to haunt him, but he didn't care. His need for Willa had been growing since the first time he'd seen her, and the last two days with her had only intensified his desire. The kiss they'd shared the night before had only made it worse. Now he knew what she tasted like, what she felt like.

He plunged into her, ravaging her mouth, letting the sweetness of her seep into him and fill him. Willa was everything good, everything sweet and pure. She was everything that was missing from his life. And in his desperation to taste more of her, to take more of her, he pressed her back onto the ground and held her head steady with his hand while he plundered her mouth.

“Griff,” she gasped, clutching the sleeves of his shirt.

He jerked as if she'd hit him. She should have, he told himself savagely. He'd been on her like a rutting beast. But when he tried to ease away from her, she
wouldn't let him. Her arms curled around his neck, and she pulled him back down to her.

“Don't stop,” she whispered, and he felt as if someone had cracked his heart wide open. “Kiss me again, Griff.”

“You don't know what you're asking,” he managed to say.

Her lashes fluttered open, and her blue-gray eyes were unfocused and smoky with desire. “Then show me,” she said.

He groaned and pulled her close again. It was just the fear, he told himself. That was why he couldn't resist her. She'd scared him half to death. He'd thought she had fallen to her death, and kissing her was just a reaction.

But it felt like a whole lot more than a reaction. It felt as if he'd come home, as if he'd finally found the place where he belonged. He didn't want to let Willa go, and when he finally realized that, he eased her away from him and let his arms drop to his sides.

“We need to get back to the cabin,” he said, his voice still hoarse with desire. “You took a nasty fall.”

He heard her make a small sound of denial in the back of her throat, and that instinctive protest almost did him in. He almost reached for her again, but instead he moved far enough away that he couldn't touch her.

“Do you think you can stand?” he asked.

She opened her eyes slowly and looked at him. The flush of passion was still on her face, and her eyes
were dreamy and soft. Griff looked away before he could grab her again. Willa wasn't for him. Passion might arc between them, but that was all it could ever be. And Willa wasn't the kind of woman who indulged in casual affairs. Willa was a happily-ever-after kind of woman. She was the kind of woman he always avoided.

“Do you want me to carry you back to the cabin?” he asked, hoping her answer would be no. He couldn't afford to touch her right now. If he did, all his good intentions would vanish like smoke in the air.

She managed to shake her head. A part of him regretted it, but as he watched her eyes clear, he told himself it was the right thing to do.

“I can walk,” she said.

“I'm going to help you up,” he said carefully. “Ready?”

She started to get to her feet, putting one hand out to brace herself. When she winced, he slid his hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet. He let her go so quickly that she stumbled.

“What's wrong with your hand? It's bleeding.”

She glanced down at it, then clenched her fingers in her palm. “Nothing. I just scraped it on the rocks, I guess.”

“We need to get you back down to the cabin,” he said, and he knew his voice was rough. “Are you sure you can walk?”

“I'm sure.” Her voice was stronger, and the dreaminess had faded from her eyes. Now they
looked at him with a cool assurance. “I promise I'll tell you if I'm feeling light-headed again.”

He could see the hurt lingering beneath the cool look, and he cursed himself for losing control, for putting that look in her eyes. “Are you upset that I kissed you, or upset that I stopped?”

“What makes you think I'm upset at all?” This time there was frost in her voice.

“You're not that hard to read, Willa.”

“Really? In that case, read
this.
” She pushed past him and began walking down the path in the direction of the cabin.

He watched her for a moment, surprised and awed at the strength of her will, then scrambled to catch up with her.

“Why don't we take a break?” he said gently. “You need a chance to settle down after your fall.” He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep himself from touching her.

“I feel fine.” She kept walking.

“I know you're tough, Willa. I know you can make it back to the cabin on your own. You don't have to prove anything to me.”

Finally she stopped and turned to look at him. “I'm not trying to prove anything. I'm ashamed of myself, and that's why I want to get back to the cabin. I know I should have told you that I was having problems. I'm sorry that I endangered you, too. All right?” Her words were formal and distant.

“It's okay, Willa.” He reached out to bridge the distance, cupping her cheek in his hand. “I under
stand. And it's not as if I've never done anything foolish. Don't worry about it.”

For just a moment, she pressed her face into his hand. But before he could react, she stepped away from him. He ached to reach out and touch her again, so he made a fist and shoved it behind his back. “Sit down for a moment. I never had a chance to make sure you weren't hurt after your fall.”

“I think it's pretty obvious that I'm not hurt. I sure wasn't too worried about it after you rescued me.” She lifted her head and stared at him, and beneath the defiance he could see that the emotional hurt still lingered. “I'm sorry I asked you to kiss me. It won't happen again.”

“You think that bothered me?”

She gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Clearly it did, since you were in such a hurry to get away from me. Don't worry, Griff. I know how you feel, and I'll respect that.”

“You have no idea how I feel,” he muttered.

“I think I do.” She turned away and started down the path again. “I've had enough of a break. Let's get back to the cabin.”

Willa walked down the trail, too conscious of Griff right behind her. He was so close that she could smell the faint tang of his soap, feel the heat that radiated from his body.

He was staying so close merely because he was worried about her. And that was her own fault. She couldn't believe how stupid she'd been, and how ir
responsible. She'd fallen off the edge of the mountain because she'd been too proud to admit her weakness.

She deserved every single one of the bumps and bruises that she was already feeling, she thought. Her hands burned where she'd scraped them against the rocks while she scrabbled to get up the cliff. Her hip ached, her head still hurt and her shoulders felt as if she'd been tackled repeatedly. But she had no right to whine.