Hours had elapsed since she had tumbled into the cavern, hours in which Laura had been visited by any number of fears, but fortunately not by crawly creatures, especially the kind with poison sacs behind their pointed teeth.
Every one of those long hours had been fraught with speculative thoughts that had ended up scaring her senseless. She was thankful for whatever impulse had impelled her to tie her denim jacket around her waist rather than toss it onto the seat of the Jeep, for the cavern had grown cold with the sun’s descent.
It was dark now, and the only thing that saved Laura from utter darkness was the small flashlight she had stuffed into her backpack as an afterthought before leaving the hotel that morning. Recognizing the wisdom of conserving the batteries, she had overridden a panic-induced desire to leave the light on, forcing herself to switch it on and off at intervals instead.
She had stopped screaming when she heard her voice growing hoarse. Besides, even through her fear, Laura reasoned that her chances of actually being heard by anyone were slim to none; the town a few hills back was a ghost town, the surrounding area deserted. What was the point in crying out for help when there was nobody there to hear her? And yet, despite knowing it was hopeless, she had called out every time she switched on the flashlight.
Turning the flashlight on now, she raised her voice once more.
“Hello!”
She stilled, startled by the unexpected sound of a human voice, a male voice, calling in response. She stared up into the opening above her, which was only marginally less dark than the cavern’s interior.
“Hello?” the voice came again, deep-timbred, suspicious-sounding, harsh with impatience.
“Dammit, is somebody down there?”
“Yes!” she croaked on a sob of relief. “Yes, I’m down here. Please, can you help me get out?”
There came a low, rough mutter—a curse?—and then a sharp-voiced reply. “Damned right, I’ll haul your carcass out of there.”
What was he mad about? She wondered in confusion, for the anger lacing his tone left no doubt that the man was as mad as a disturbed hornet.
Biting her lip in consternation, she peered at the opening. After what seemed like an hour, a weak, wavering glow illuminated the hole.
“I’m lowering a rope,” her irate savior shouted. “Can you see it?”
She could, just barely. It curled and coiled like a long, skinny snake. Telling herself it was not a viper but her lifeline, she called back, “I see it.”
“Good. Grab onto it and hold tight,” he said. “I’ll pull you up. Have you got it?”
Looping the straps of her backpack over one arm, she clutched at the rope. “Yes.”
There was a quick tug on the rope; she tightened her hold. Then slowly the line and Laura were drawn upward. She felt a rush of fresh air an instant before her head cleared the opening. Strong hands grasped her upper arms, steely fingers dug into her soft flesh, and she was literally plucked from the mouth of the hole. She was swung in a half circle and deposited on the ground with bone-jarring force.
Since Laura had seriously begun to fear that the cavern would be her final resting place, she felt too grateful to her rescuer to take umbrage at his rough handling of her. She didn’t even object when he continued to grasp her arms in his hard-fingered grip. Weak-kneed with relief, she welcomed his support.
“Thank ... you,” she sputtered between gasps of sweet, sage-scented night air. “I can’t begin to—”
“How did you find it?” he cut her off in a harsh-voiced demand.
“Find it?” She frowned and peered through the darkness, trying to see his face. The wavering light she had seen from the cavern floor had been cast by an old-fashioned oil lamp with a handle, quite like the kind railroaders had used years ago. The lamp still sat near the rim of the hole, behind her less-than-congenial rescuer. All she could make out was his size—large, shadowy, intimidating. “Find what?”
“You know damned well what,” he shot back in an angry snarl. Releasing her, he made a half-turn to indicate the hole. “The entrance.”
Entrance? Laura shook her head in confusion. She didn’t have a clue as to what this uncivil man was talking about, and at that moment she didn’t much care. The effects of prolonged fear were taking their toll. Shivers cascaded the length of her body, and she was exhausted, her mind numb.
“That hole?” she asked blankly.
“Yes, dammit, that hole,” he barked.
Laura was close to losing her patience, and to the edge of hysteria. “What about it?”
“What were you looking for down there?”
“Why would I be looking for anything in a hole in the ground?” Then, abruptly, the last vestige of her energy drained. She went crashing to her knees on the hard ground.
“What the hell!”
In a flash his strong hands were grabbing her once more, hauling her up, more gently this time. For such a big man, he moved swiftly, Laura thought with vague detachment, past the point of caring.
“Are you all right?” The harshness was gone from his voice, leaving it still raw, a little rough, but deep and surprisingly attractive.
“Yes. No.” Laura immediately corrected herself. “I... I...” She took several gulping breaths, then gasped a startled “Oh!” when the earth spun as she was suddenly swept off her feet into his arms. “What are you doing?” she demanded, struggling against his tight embrace. “Put me down.”
“Why, you like falling?” he asked, not unkindly, holding her close to his hard chest.
“I won’t...” Laura began, then broke off, startled when she felt the muscles in his arms contract.
“Why are you wearing pants?” he asked in what sounded to Laura like disbelief and shock.
“Why not?” She frowned when his muscles contracted again.
“It’s indecent, that’s why.”
She stiffened. “I beg your pardon?” she said, feeling both baffled and insulted.
“You should,” he muttered, beginning to walk away into the darkness.
Laura was on the point of demanding an explanation for his remark, but abrupt motion drove the question from her mind and raised another one. “Where are you taking me?”
“Back to my place.”
“Oh, no, you’re not!” she exclaimed, beginning to struggle, this time in earnest. “I’m not going anywhere with ...” Her voice faded as a large shape loomed ahead, barely discernible in the pitch darkness. “What’s tha—” Once again her voice failed as she was swung away from his warm body, high into the air, then plopped unceremoniously onto what she realized was the back of a horse.
“A horse?” Laura was barely aware of speaking aloud, too busy grabbing for the saddle horn to notice.
“What does it look like? A humpless camel?”
She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing reply, but closed it again, because he was gone, striding back toward the hole.
Damn the man. A horse, of all things! Who did he think he was, the Lone Ranger?
For all her fascination with the Old West, by choice Laura had never been on the back of a horse, simply because she thought them too high off terra firma, too skittish, and too dangerous. She was pondering the proper, and least dangerous, method of getting down from the animal when her irascible rescuer returned.
“This pack yours?” he asked, holding her backpack aloft for her inspection.
“Yes, thank you, she answered with genuine gratitude; she had completely forgotten it. She reached to take it, then shook her head. “Will you help me down first, please?”
“No.” Slinging the pack over his shoulder, he shoved one foot into a dangling stirrup, grunted as he heaved his body off the ground, and swung the other leg over the horse. “Make room,” he ordered, wedging his hips against hers.
Her protest died on her lips as his lower body nudged her posterior. A gasp of shock lodging in her throat, she wriggled forward, away from the hard, too-intimate pressure.
“I don’t think...” she began stiffly, holding her body rigidly still.
“Good,” he said, reaching around her to gather the reins looped to the saddle horn. “Keep it that way till we get to the house.”
He made a clicking sound. The horse moved, and she clamped her lips together and grabbed for the horn.