foolish and reckless—like yielding to the outrageous urge of kissing her to see if she tasted even half as good as she looked. Staring at her lush, Cupid’s bow mouth for more than a moment at a time was sensual torment.
Forcing himself to get his mind back to the business at hand, he poked his head outside. “Well, damn,” he grumbled.
When she walked up behind him, he cautiously glanced back at her. He half expected her to approach him, toting a log for the campfire as her makeshift weapon. He braced himself, in case she decided to pound him on the head.
Fortunately she wasn’t armed, just curious.
He pointed in the direction of the men who were riding through the valley. “They aren’t giving up the search,” he grumbled. “But then, I did confiscate a lot of stolen money.” He waited a beat then said, “I’m sorry you ended up in the middle of this. The outlaw gang I infiltrated three months ago won’t want you to walk away, either. Not when you can identify them. This gang doesn’t leave eyewitnesses behind.”
Shiloh gulped uneasily as she watched the five men weave around the boulders and trees at lower elevations. “Where are our horses? What if the outlaws spot them?”
“They won’t,” he assured her. “I stashed them in another cave. One of the advantages of these rocky hillsides that my people always favored, when this land was part of the Apacheria, is that you can come and go like a fleeting specter. If you know your way around this valley you can be visible one minute and vanish into thin air the next.”
He called her attention to the battered stone precipice looming above them. “When the wind blows in from the southwest, swirling and dipping around that peak, you can almost swear there are whispering voices on Ghost Ridge. Which is why this is sacred ground to the Apache. According to the legend, the spirits congregate here, ready to guide us if we are wise enough to listen.”
He sounded convincing and believable, Shiloh mused as she scanned the towering peak. But it would be a cold day in hell before she took a man at his word again. She had no way of knowing for certain that he wasn’t making up the legend to prey on her gullibility and gain her allegiance. Furthermore, she couldn’t swear that he wasn’t trying to double-cross his cohorts who were out for his blood—and hers—because she could identify the group of ruffians.
Shiloh glanced down at the rain-drenched riders in the valley below then shifted her attention to the man beside her. “Nothing like having to settle for the lesser of two evils,” she grumbled, exasperated. “You or them. Tough call.”
Her comment inspired his rumbling chuckle. “At least there’s only one of me compared to five of them. And one of these days you’ll apologize for mistrusting me, just because I’m half Apache.”
Shiloh tipped her head back to compensate for the difference in their height. He had to be at least six feet three, and an impressive male specimen—much as she was reluctant to admit it. “I don’t hold your heritage against you,” she corrected. “It’s being a man that I object to. Your gender has so many flaws and so few saving graces.”
He continued to monitor the search party in the distance. “A man-hater, are you? Is anyone in particular responsible for souring you on the rest of the male gender?”
“That’s none of your business, either.” She lurched around to pace the shadowy confines of the cavern. Thinking of Antoine’s deceit always caused her emotions to roil in frustration.
“At least tell me the scoundrel’s name,” Hawk requested. “I might decide to look him up and shoot him down for you after I finish this assignment.”
Shiloh glanced over at him, jolted again by his arresting profile and the hint of amusement in that deep baritone voice. This man couldn’t be all bad…could he? He had offered to avenge the hurt and humiliation she had suffered recently. He had patched her injured arm and found refuge from the rain and from the gunmen who were chasing them.
The moment she felt herself weakening, wanting to believe he was on the side of law, order and honor, he ruined it all by saying, “Unless of course you deserved what you got. You didn’t have it coming, did you?”
Well, so much for actually starting to like Hawk, she thought in annoyance. Shiloh stiffened her spine, elevated her chin and rapped out, “No, I most certainly did not have it coming! I was manipulated and misled and entirely too naive and trusting. But that won’t happen again. I guarantee it!”
He shrugged those impossibly broad shoulders as he stared over the valley. “I guess we all have to learn a few lessons the hard way, Bernie,” he said, adopting a shortened version of her alias. “It’s my job to ask the hard, and sometimes offensive questions. Since we’re stuck here together, at least until nightfall, I thought this might be our chance to get to know a little more about each other.”
“We already know each other better than I prefer,” she muttered resentfully.
Shiloh well remembered the feel of their bodies meshed together, while rolling across the ground to avoid gunfire. Also, they had been pressed tightly together while galloping off on her horse, while she’d been garbed in nothing but her wet chemise. Yet, despite her vulnerability he hadn’t made even one attempt to…
The thought caused Shiloh to halt in her tracks. “Well, no wonder.”
Hawk glanced sideways and frowned. “No wonder what?”
She dismissed him with a flick of her wrist then went back to pacing. Maybe it was her fault that she had been jilted. Maybe there was something unlovable and undesirable about her. Obviously she didn’t inspire many lusty or romantic ideas in men.
Which was why this supposed Texas Ranger—who’d had ample opportunity to take advantage of her during their isolation—hadn’t touched her in a sexual way. He hadn’t made even one improper advance, despite the situation that had left her nearly naked in his arms several times. Why was that?
Because he was completely honorable and trustworthy? Doubtful, thought she. It was because she lacked feminine appeal, personality and charm. Which was why Antoine had disregarded her feelings for him and broken her heart by turning his attention and affection to someone else.
It was demoralizing to have to accept the fact that she possessed very little sex appeal and no alluring charm. The deflating realization caused her shoulders to slump. If she couldn’t attract or intrigue this rough-edged frontiersman, she couldn’t beguile a man she’d fallen in love with, either.
“Well, hell,” Hawk muttered, his deep voice echoing through the dimly lit chamber.
When she noticed his profound concentration on the goings-on outside the cave Shiloh went to join him. She scowled sourly, too, when she noted that two men had dismounted near the mouth of the box canyon and looked to be setting up camp to outwait them. Three men rode back in the direction they had come.
“Morton DeVol and Everett Stiles are guarding the escape route while the other outlaws gather the provisions from their hideout,” Hawk speculated. “I was hoping they’d give up so we don’t have to rely on the treacherous trail that leads over Ghost Ridge to the canyon beyond.”
Shiloh stared anxiously at the towering summit of jagged rock. “We have to climb over that?” She had the unmistakable feeling that her aversion to height was going to make the trek an unnerving challenge.
“That’s right, Bernie,”
