Page 57 of Wild Highland Rose (Time After Time #4)

His horse snorted softly behind him, stamping with impatience, almost as if he'd read his mind. But then horses were like that. The woman by the fire moaned, and struggled against the confines of his greatcoat. Golden hair spilled out against the tanned hide of the sheepskin.

She was a beauty. Even with the gash on her head.

He'd tried to clean it up the best he could, and bandaged it, but it was obvious she needed a doctor.

And that presented a problem. Even with the cessation of the storm, they'd be lucky to make the ranch.

There wasn't much chance he could get her into Silverthread. There would be too damn much snow.

Hell.

She moaned again and opened her eyes, firelight reflecting in the green of her gaze. Her look of confusion softened as she recognized him. "Michael."

He wasn't certain his name had ever sounded that good. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and moved to sit beside her, bringing the meager light of the lantern with him. He reached out to brush the hair back from her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, I think." She managed a weak grin. "Still cold though."

He shivered in response.

"Oh God, I've got your blanket." One hand slid out of the cocoon, confirming the fact. "And your coat. You must be freezing." She tried to sit up, but instead she grimaced and dropped back onto the floor of the cave. "I'm sorry."

He smiled. Impressed by her fortitude. She wasn't one to complain. Most ladies he knew would be whining every which way. But not this one. "Lie still, I'll crawl in beside you. That way we'll both be warm."

She nodded, and he slid underneath the blanket and coat, and pulled her body back against his. Her warmth seeped into him.

"It's better like this." He couldn't see her face, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "Has the storm stopped?"

"It's dying down. Should be gone by morning."

"And then we can look?" Her voice held a note of determination, and fear.

He understood the feeling. Once when he was about eleven his father had been buried in a mine.

They'd worked for hours to get him out, each passing moment another step closer to his demise.

But, in the end, they'd won. Duncan had survived.

Still, Michael recognized her plight. "And then we'll look. "

They were quiet for a moment, the only sounds the hissing of the dying fire and the soft movements of the horse.

He could feel her breathing. Feel the rise and fall of her body against his.

He supposed in the same way she could feel him.

Somehow, it made the moment more intimate, as if they were joined—one sustaining the other.

"Cara."

The word filled the night air, jerking him from his reverie, the resonance of her voice sweet and low. "Cara?" He sounded like a parrot.

"Cara Reynolds. That's my name." Again he heard the smile.

It was a beautiful name. He liked the way it sounded. Sort of soft and strong all at the same time. Like her.

"So where are we, exactly?" He could almost feel her words, as if they were communicating body to body.

"An abandoned mine tunnel. It was the closest shelter I could find."

"How did you know it was here?"

"This is my land," he said simply. "I know every inch of it."

Again they lay in silence. He listened to the sound of her breathing. It slowed and then deepened. Sleep would do her good. He closed his own eyes, but couldn't stop thinking. He kept seeing her lying there in the snow. If he hadn't found her. He shivered at the thought.

But he had. And now, despite all she'd been through, she'd be all right. He'd make certain of it.

"Michael?" She rolled over to face him, her voice hesitant, her eyes wide. "If someone was out there. In the storm, I mean. Could they—could they live through it?"

She suddenly sounded so young and lost, he thought his heart might break. He tightened his arms around her. "Anything is possible, Cara."

"And if they're dead…" She trailed off, leaving the question unfinished.

"Then I'll take care of you." He looked deep into her eyes, and before he had time to think better of it, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers, the contact sending lightening flashing through him.

He pulled back, breathless from the depth of his emotion, his gaze still locked with hers. "I promise."

Cara woke with a start. The tunnel was filled with half-light.

Morning had obviously arrived. She sat up gingerly, her eyes scanning the cave for Michael.

She sighed with disappointment, except for a horse, the mine shaft was empty.

But a fire burned merrily in the stone fire ring.

Surely evidence that'd he be right back. All she had to do was wait.

She explored the injured side of her head carefully, satisfied to note that the bandage felt dry. At least the bleeding had stopped. Which was more than she could say for the pounding. Still, all in all, she seemed to have survived.

Pain wracked through her at the thought.

How could she be so casual with her thoughts?

When her parents might be out there this very moment, injured or worse.

She sucked in a ragged breath and fought against the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

Michael would help her. He'd promised. She had to hang onto her hope.

Using the side of the cave to brace herself, she pulled up to a standing position, still clutching Michael's blanket around her. The world tilted lopsidedly and then slowly, slowly righted itself again.

"Cara?"

Michael . She smiled despite herself and took a wobbly step forward.

He called her name again, and it was a moment before it registered that the voice was not Michael's.

It was her grandfather's. Joy welled up inside her.

Michael had obviously gone for help. Sucking in a fortifying breath, she began to make her way out of the cave.

Certain that somehow, between Michael and her grandfather, everything would be all right.

Michael stood up, carefully capping his canteen. At least the worst of it was over. The sky was still a hazy white-gray, threatening snow. But the wind was gone, and the air dry. With any luck, they'd make it to the ranch before nightfall.

He carefully made his way up the slippery slope of the creek bank.

The snow was deceptively thick in places and he knew that beneath the soft banks there was often ice.

A broken leg, out here in this kind of weather, would most likely be the death of a man.

And he had no intention of cashing it in now. Not after last night.

He reached the scattered tailings pile that marked the entrance to the mine. A small blue spruce stretched its frail limbs from the center of the loose rocks and debris. Michael smiled at the tenacity of the tree. Probably never make it, he thought, but it sure had courage to try.

A lot like the girl who slept in the tunnel. She had grit all right. And she was a beauty, too.

One woman for every man. His mother's voice filled his mind, and he smiled. Maybe. Just maybe, she was right. But right now there were more important things to think about. Like survival. He stepped into the mouth of the tunnel.

At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. Then, he thought he was going crazy. But, no, the facts were there, plain as the nose on his face. His gear was right where he'd left it. And the little fire burned cheerily in the stone ring he'd made.

But the blanket by the fire was gone, and with it, the girl he'd held through the night. His heart jumped and he felt panic rip through him. "Cara?" He called her name softly at first, then loud enough that the name echoed off the icy rock walls of the mine.

"Cara?"