Free Her Dearest Enemy by Elizabeth Lane Page B

splinteredsharpness of bone protruding through flesh justabove the top of his boot. Only the numbing cold ofthe water and Brandon’s own stubborn will had enabledhim to stand the pain. But it hadn’t stopped thebleeding.
    Brandon been right about one thing. Tipping thebuggy onto its side would have rolled the vehicle’sfull weight onto his trapped foot and ankle, crushingthe bones. There was no way she could lift the buggyoff him safely and no way she could leave him to gofor help. All she could do was hold him, wait andpray that someone would come in time.
    Sitting up again, she gathered him into her arms.He was deathly still, his face ashen, his breathing raggedand shallow. Only after Harriet had settled herselfagainst the rock with his head cradled in thehollow between her breasts, did the impact of thatsoul-blistering kiss strike her with full force.
    A shameful blush crept over her as she rememberedthe velvety rasp of his unshaven jaw against herskin and the soft roughness of his lips, bittersweetlike new spring raspberries. She remembered theprobing invasion of his tongue and how it had igniteda liquid blaze in the untouched depths of her body.Pure heaven—and absolute madness.
    What on earth could have possessed her? Brandonhad been on the verge of fainting and could not beheld responsible for his actions. All he had done waslean toward her, and she had done the rest. She had wanted to kiss him, Harriet conceded. But wantingwas one thing. Doing was quite another. She had behavedlike a shameless wanton. What was he goingto think of her?
    But what Brandon thought of her no longer mattered.His life was ebbing away drop by drop, and ifhelp did not arrive soon he would never open hiseyes again.
    The storm had diminished to a few drifting flakesof snow. What time was it? she wondered. Surely itwould be light soon. There would be travelers on theroad, men with horses who would free Brandon’spinned leg and get him to a doctor.
    Harriet’s eyes scanned the ribbon of starlit skyabove the canyon walls. Its color was an inky blue-black, with no sign of approaching dawn. Daylight,Harriet realized, could be hours away. And Brandondidn’t have hours of life left in his body.
    As she shifted his position to make him morecomfortable, her hand brushed something hard andheavy beneath his coat. The pistol—he said he’dfired it to scare off the cougar. Could she use it now,to signal for help?
    Reaching down, she pulled the hefty Colt revolverout of its holster. A quick check of the cylinder confirmedthat there were four bullets left. The odds ofanyone being on the road at this hour were slim, sheknew. But she had to take a chance.
    Aiming the pistol at the sky, she thumbed back thehammer and fired one shot, then another. The soundechoed off the sheer rock walls, sounding like a full-fledged gunfight. At least the noise should be enoughto scare off the cougar, Harriet thought, forcing agrim smile to keep up her spirits. She would save thelast two bullets in case she needed to signal againlater. For now she could only wait and pray thatsomeone had heard.
    Holstering the gun, she strained her ears into thesilence. The wind had died with the passing of thestorm. Only the water, gurgling around the wreckedlandau, broke the stillness.
    Brandon groaned softly and shifted against herbreast. “Be still,” she whispered, holding him.“Rest and save your strength. Someone will find us,you’ll see.”
    Exhausted now, she lay her cheek against his wethair. The icy water had numbed her feet and legs, andthe cold was creeping upward. It would feel so goodto sleep, she thought. Just drift off here, under thebuggy, with Brandon in her arms…
    Two distant gunshots echoed down the canyon.The sound startled her, causing her body to jerk. Hadshe been asleep? How long?
    Another shot! Yes, it had to be a signal! Someonewas coming! Harriet fumbled for the pistol and firedan answering shot into the air. Brandon was breathing,but she could not rouse