over the horse’s back. Inside the left pouch, he kept a flashlight. His chilled fingers shook as he fumbled to switch it on.
Light filled the small cavern. The walls crowded in on him more so than he remembered from when he was a child. About half the size of the Medora amphitheater, the cave would serve its purpose—to shield them from the biting wind and bitter cold of the storm.
Without wood to build a roaring fire, they would have to rely on the sleeping bag and each other’s body warmth—hers being questionable at the moment.
Maddox set the flashlight on a rock outcropping, untied the strings around the sleeping bag and unzipped the zipper. He placed the open sleeping bag next to the woman. He had to get her out of the bulky winter clothing and boots and inside the sleeping bag.
Time wasn’t on his side. He didn’t know how long the woman had been unconscious or whether she had frostbite. Maddox stripped his coat off and the heavy sweatshirt beneath, wadding it up to form a pillow. Then he tugged his jeans off and the long underwear until he stood naked, regretting his lack of boxer shorts. The frigid air bit his skin, raising gooseflesh everywhere.
He went to work undressing the stranger, removing layer after layer. When he tugged off her jeans, she moaned.
That was a good sign. She wasn’t completely comatose. Hope burned in his chest as he swiftly finished the job of undressing her down to her bra, panties and the pendant she wore around her throat. Nowhere in her pockets could he find any form of identification. He shoved all their clothing to the bottom of the bag, then laid the woman on the quilted flannel interior.
Tucked inside the sleeping bag, she didn’t shake the way most cold people did. Her body had given up trying to keep her warm. The lethargy of sleep had numbed her mind to the acceptance of a peaceful death.
Maddox’s body fought to live, his teeth chattering in the cool of the cave’s interior. He refused to let the sleep of death claim her, as it had Susan.
Before he lost all his body warmth, he slid into the sleeping bag beside the woman and zipped the edges together. Although the bag was made for one large person, he was able to close both of them inside with a little room to spare. He wrapped his arms around her body, rubbing his hands up and down her cold arms and tucking her feet between his calves to warm them.
Cold. She was so cold.
Susan’s face swam before him, her lips blue, her tawny blond hair buffeted by the wind, the only movement on her lifeless form. For a moment his world stood still as he stared down into the quiet countenance, the blank stare of his dead fiancée intruding into his thoughts.
But that was years ago. This woman wasn’t Susan. For the first time since he’d found her, he studied the woman, blocking out the sad memories. In the shadowy glow of the flashlight, he leaned back enough to stare at the woman so near death he was afraid he might already be too late.
Dark hair, as black as his own, splayed across his gray sweatshirt pillow in large loose waves. Sooty, narrow brows winged outward in sharp contrast to her pale, almost translucent skin. Her hair dipped to a shallow peak at the center of her forehead and her lashes lay like fans across her cheeks. A pointed chin, perky nose and delicate ears completed her perfection.
As close as he was, Maddox caught a whiff of a subtle yet exotic perfume. His breath caught in his throat. This stranger didn’t have Susan’s girl-next-door fresh looks, yet her ethereal beauty was so profound it sucked the wind right out of his lungs, his groin tightening in automatic response to her skin against his. He hadn’t been drawn to any woman since Susan’s death. He hadn’t let himself be, his burden of guilt weighing heavily.
The woman in the sleeping bag with him was a stranger. A beautiful, exotic stranger with skin the color of a porcelain doll and hair softer and silkier than anything he’d ever run his hands through.
He forced himself to focus on anything other than her physical attributes, shifting to all the unknowns, the mystery and reasons he shouldn’t trust her. He didn’t know her, she hadn’t carried a driver’s license or passport. He didn’t know her background.
Who the hell was she? Would she live to tell him?
Chapter Two
Kat snuggled closer to the warmth in front of her, nestling her face into the hard, yet smooth surface. Her nose twitched and she slid her hand between her and the warmth-providing pillow, to brush her hair out of her face.
She couldn’t move far with what felt like a tree branch draped across her back, holding her close and adding to the warmth. What was keeping her from moving? She opened her eyes to discover the source of her imprisonment.
Darkness so intense she couldn’t see a scrap of light made her close her eyes and open them again. Was she dead? Panic shot through her like a lightning bolt. Had she gone blind? She shoved against the hard surface beneath her hands. The band around her waist shifted, tightening.
She pushed up on her hands, straining against the band. “Help.” Her voice echoed as if in one of the large cathedrals of her homeland. “Where am I?” She fought to contain her terror. She had managed to stay alive based on sheer tenacity and by relying on her intelligence for the past two days. She couldn’t give up now. But why was it so incredibly dark? Where was she?
“Shh.” A deep baritone rumbled in the darkness, the surface beneath her hands vibrating. Then she was rolled to her side. She recognized the band around her middle now as an arm as thick as a small tree trunk.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Had he caught up with her? Was she his prisoner? “Who are you? Where am I? Am I blind?” Her hip brushed against what could only be a man’s… “Oh my god, you’re not wearing any clothes!” She pounded against his chest, her feet banging against his shins.
“Slow down.” The voice rumbled again, bouncing off the walls of the room they were in. “I’m not going to rape you, woman. Let me turn on the light.”
With his one arm still holding her around her middle, he reached above his head. Cold air slipped across her skin, sending wave after wave of chills over Katya. She shook so hard her teeth rattled against each other.
Metal clinked against stone, then a click, and light bounced off what looked like rock walls.
Relief filled her as her eyes adjusted to the muted lighting. She wasn’t blind. Light beamed across the room, dispelling the terrifying darkness. Then as quickly as the relief filled her it fled. She couldn’t move, trapped against the man’s chest and cocooned in a bag. Panic threatened to overwhelm her, but she fought it, taking deep, steadying breaths.
The man’s other arm slipped back into the interior of the bag, pulling the gap closed, blocking the chilled air from leaking inside.
Despite her terror at being held captive, she didn’t want to die of exposure. Until she learned more about the man she lay next to, she’d do well to appreciate the warmth and gather her strength if she had to fight for her life.
“How do you feel?” the man asked.
“Cold. Incredibly cold. And frankly, a little scared.”
“You should be scared, but not of me. You almost died of exposure. You’ll probably feel cold for a long time.”
Her teeth chattered as she tried to form questions. “What
