Free Carol Finch by The Ranger's Woman Page A

dizziness left her so wobbly that she had to brace her hand against the rough rock wall and sink back to her knees.
    His hand clamped around her forearm to hoist her onto shaky legs. When they threatened to fold up beneath her Quinn slid his arm around her waist to support her. “You better ride with me until you get your bearings.”
    Piper was all in favor of that, particularly since she wasn’t sure she could react quickly enough if she had to duck under another low-hanging shelf of rock. Plus, if she passed out she might keel over the ledge. She didn’t want to risk that possibility again.
    “Not much of a rider, I’d guess,” he said as he shepherded her back to his horse.
    “Unfortunately, no. My father insisted that proper ladies didn’t need to know how to ride because we were supposed to be driven in the comfort of a carriage.” She smiled impishly. “My sister and I did sneak off several times to ride horseback, but not as often as we would have liked to.”
    Quinn set her carefully on his horse then looked her over closely before he pulled himself up behind her. Her face was peaked and the knot on her head reminded him of a goose egg. Also, it hadn’t taken him but a few minutes to realize that she was having difficulty riding bareback.
    He could spot a tenderfoot a mile away and that’s what she was. Stunningly attractive and spirited—and so far out of her element that it was laughable.
    Just what he needed while tracking a gang of cutthroats, he mused sourly. The men responsible for his friend’s death were miles ahead of him and here he was, playing bodyguard and nursemaid to a woman whodidn’t know beans about surviving in the wilderness. Con artist though she probably was, she was accustomed to moving in society, not battling inclement weather and unexpected dangers of the wilderness.
    His thoughts flitted off when Piper settled herself more comfortably in front of him. Her shapely derriere wedged against his crotch and her thighs brushed the inside of his legs. Her back was pressed against his chest and he had to grit his teeth against the jolt of pleasure that her nearness evoked.
    He resented the fact that the feel of her body gliding rhythmically against his got him all stirred up. He was on an important assignment, damn it. He was also trying to keep the promise Taylor Briggs had demanded with his last breath.
    Get those sonsabitches for me, Cal. Every last one of ’em. Promise me that, Taylor had gasped before he collapsed, a victim of ambush.
    Quinn had made a solemn vow that day. Now he was burdened with the prettiest female he had ever laid eyes on and she was the worst distraction he had ever encountered. Period.
    “Is there some place I can get a drink?” she asked with a seesaw breath. “I don’t feel well at all.”
    “Right. Sure,” he grumbled.
    The nearest watering hole was Sunset Springs. It was located about five miles out of the way, down the side of the mountain. While he catered to the needs of his injured companion—who felt so damn good nestled against him that it was making him crazy—the outlaws’ trail was getting colder by the minute.
    Hell’s bells, could anything else go wrong with this assignment? Quinn knew better than to send that question winging heavenward, for fear it would sound like a challenge. He had plenty of those to deal with already.
    “I’m really sorry to be such a burden,” she mumbled. “But this bump on my head is making me queasy and my throat is as dry as a desert.”
    Quinn didn’t want to feel sorry for her, didn’t want to feel obliged to accommodate her. He had told her to watch her head, but her instinctive reactions obviously hadn’t been tested and perfected as well as his had. Furthermore, he wasn’t accustomed to having to issue warnings to the other Rangers he worked with on occasion. They were seasoned fighters and trackers who were attuned to their surroundings.
    But not this female, he mused. She was a disaster