Free Running Wild by Denise Eagan Page B

thought I’d never see, you agreeing with me!”
    “Only,” she said with an embarrassed laugh, “for now. We
shall take up this conversation later, and I assure you, I’ll change your
mind.”
    He shrugged as he took the lead, and his horse started to
climb. “You’re sure welcome to try, ma’am,” he threw over his shoulder.
    ***
    They rested mid-day in a small clearing beside a pond. The
pond was frozen, but the brook that fed it babbled merrily, unaware of the
breathtaking beauty of the snow-covered expanse, surrounded by pines and
leaf-bare aspens, all framed by the white peaks beyond. For a short spell, Star
stood and stared. The jagged peaks of southern Colorado were so different from
the rounded mountains of her native New England. Harsh, yet magnificent in
their harshness, much like the men who resided among them.
    She turned to Nicholas. He’d taken the reins of their horses
and was leading them to drink from the brook. His pants hugged his rear end as
he moved, which was far more distracting than the scenery. In truth, it was
indecent the way her eyes followed him, but she couldn’t stop herself to save
her life.
    He dropped the reins, pulled his rifle from its scabbard,
and turned to her. He held the weapon casually, with no more regard for it than
she would accord a fan.
    “Are you cold? I’ll build a fire.”
    His eyes were almost black against the background of snow
and ice, holding hers steadily. For a second she didn’t answer, content to
drink it all in. Then he flashed her his blinding smile, and she couldn’t
think. “Yeah, your face is a tad red. You need a fire. I could use some coffee,
myself.”
    Her face wasn’t red from cold, as he must readily perceive,
but from excitement.
    “I come fishin’ here in the warmer weather,” he continued,
striding to the edge of the forest. He bent over a pile of wood stacked there.
“I try to keep some firewood around in case I want a fire.”
    She was quite warm just watching him.
    After a minute or two of gathering wood and bringing it into
the center of the clearing, he raised his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t wanna, help,
would you? Fetch me a couple of those rocks over there to ring the fire. Don’t
want it to spread accidentally. We’ve got plenty of snow, but it doesn’t take
too much to start a forest fire.”
    She took a breath and nodded. For a time they worked in
silence. When he’d gathered enough wood, he handed Star his rifle—it was far
heavier than she’d have imagined—and knelt on one knee to build the fire. She
watched silently, marveling at his efficiency; he only used one match. Tilting
his head, he blew on the baby flames, bringing the birch bark to a crackling
roar. She gulped. How would it feel, she wondered, to be that bark, to feel his
breath warm on her neck, in her ears. . .
    She’d burst into flames, too.
    He added kindling, followed by larger and larger pieces of
wood, and as he did, she could feel passion’s fire building inside of her. At
length, he rose and turned to her to take his rifle back. He was so near to her
that his pine and leather scent wafted under her nose, through her lungs and into
her heart. His lovely mouth was just inches away. Temptation burned away all
common sense. She reached up to curl one hand around his neck, while bringing
her mouth up to his.
    At first his lips were cold—cold and motionless. Ignoring
his stiffening muscles, she moved her mouth lightly over his, then oh-so-gently
applied pressure. With the smallest of groans, he succumbed. His arm circled
her waist, pulling her against him, and he kissed her back. His tongue pried
open her lips to surge inside.
    She melted.
    The flush from her face spread down to her fingers and toes,
then upward again, a wondrous tingling that washed all thought from her brain.
His tongue swept through her mouth, touching, tasting, inviting her inside.
Desire flowed through her body, pooling in those soft areas down below. Closing
her eyes, she