The Groom's Stand-In (Special Edition) Page 14

  Sure, she was pretty. And intelligent. Resilient. And brave. Everything he admired most in a woman. But it seemed like more than that this time.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Couldn’t stop watching her. Couldn’t help wanting to take care of her, even though she’d proven quite capable of taking care of herself. He’d never been particularly susceptible to battle-zone romance, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

  Since Chloe was going to be a significant part of his life if Bryan convinced her to marry him—and Bryan’s powers of persuasion were legendary—Donovan didn’t want to do anything that would create more awkwardness between them than would already exist now. Any lingering feelings he had for her when this was over—well, he would deal with them then.

  In the meantime, he would keep things between them friendly, cordial, as pleasant as possible under the circumstances. But not too personal. He had to keep emotion out of it, and rely on logic instead.

  She stirred against him, the movement brushing her soft breasts against his chest. And then she opened her eyes and gave him a sleepy smile. “Is it morning already?”

  He had to clear his throat hard before he could speak. “Yeah.”

  Keeping his emotions under control for however long it took to get them out of this forest wasn’t going to be at all easy. It was going to be a continuous battle between logic and emotion—and, to his surprise, he couldn’t be certain of which would eventually win out.

  Definitely a new experience for him.

  They had planned to start walking at first light. It was a little after that time when they finally made their way out of the cave, tried to stretch out the stiffness and soreness from their cramped sleeping quarters, and then agreed which direction to head in first.

  Thinking she looked pale, Donovan asked Chloe several times if she wanted to wait a while longer before getting started, but she assured him she was ready. The sky was growing darker by the moment, which indicated another impending rainstorm. They needed to make as much progress as possible before it began, she pointed out.

  She made it less than three yards before she collapsed.

  Donovan caught her just before she hit the ground. The impact knocked the makeshift crutch from his hand, forcing him to stagger, his weight coming down on his injured leg. A sharp hiss escaped between his teeth, and they fell together, but somehow he managed to cushion their landing.

  Pushing the awareness of his own pain to the back of his mind, he struggled to sit up. Once he’d accomplished that feat, he bent over Chloe, who lay on her back beside him, her breath escaping in soft moans. “Chloe?”

  Her eyelids fluttered. Her voice was very weak. “I—I’m sorry. I think I…fainted.”

  He touched her cheek. Her face felt hotter now than it had before. Her eyes were glazed and there were dark circles beneath them, in stark contrast to her face, which was pale except for two vivid patches of red on her cheeks.

  “You haven’t eaten,” he murmured, stroking a damp strand of hair away from her face. “And you have a slight fever.”

  “Slight” was an understatement, of course. She was burning up. But he saw no need to go into technicalities at the moment. “I’ll get you some water. Wait here.”

  “I can walk,” she said, but she didn’t move.

  “Just lie still. I’ll be right back.”

  He groped for his crutch, then used both hands to drag himself upright with it. The stream was nearby, but he had nothing to carry water in. The knife and matches he’d filched from the cabin were still in his pocket, but they did him no good at the moment. He settled for tossing the crutch aside and cupping his hands.

  His right foot dragging behind him, he made his way painfully back to Chloe’s side. Kneeling beside her sent fiery spears of pain stabbing through his leg; he ignored them as he held his hands to her lips. Water trickled down her chin, but he was satisfied that she drank a little. He fervently hoped it wasn’t stream water making her sick—but he suspected the infection in her feet was spreading.

  Just the thought of spreading infection made his heart beat faster in fear. He couldn’t help remembering that an infection had killed his mother. He had to push those old memories ruthlessly aside to keep his hands steady for Chloe.

  When his hands were empty again, he made his way slowly back to the stream, where he removed one of the strips of cloth from his splint and soaked it in the cold water. And then, setting his teeth against the pain, he returned to her.

  She was trying to rouse herself, having worked her way up to one elbow. Donovan pressed a hand gently against her shoulder. “Lie back down. You’ll get dizzy again.”

  “I can walk.”

  “Chloe. Lie down.” He laid the cool fabric against her face when she reluctantly complied. “It’s still very early. We’ve got time for you to recuperate awhile before we start moving again.”

  She closed her eyes, looking suddenly frail and vulnerable. But her chin was firm when she murmured, “I’m not giving up.”

  An odd pang shot through his chest. His reply was gruff. “I know you aren’t. You never give up, do you, General?”

  She didn’t smile at the nickname as she had the last time he’d teased her with it. Instead, she whispered, “Sometimes I do.”

  He stroked the cloth against her fever-reddened cheeks. “Not this time.”

  “No. Not this time.” Drawing a deep breath, she opened her eyes again. “I’m sorry. I keep holding us up.”

  “Hey, I’m the one with the gimpy leg, remember? I’m hardly moving at top speed these days.”

  She tried to laugh, a rather pathetic attempt. “We’re both in pretty sorry shape, aren’t we?”

  “I won’t give up if you won’t.”

  She reached up to push the cool cloth away from her face. “Then let’s get moving, shall we?”

  He tried to talk her into resting a little longer, but she was determined to prove that she could keep walking if he could. She swayed just a bit when he helped her to her feet, but she quickly steadied herself, spreading her feet and squaring her shoulders as she pushed her hair out of her face and started walking.

  He followed close at her heels, ready to catch her if she staggered again.

  Damn, but it was getting harder every minute to keep himself from falling for her. It had to be circumstantial, he assured himself. His feelings would pass when they returned to their own world.

  But his feelings sure as hell felt real now.

  To Chloe’s chagrin, they hadn’t walked very far before her vision started to blur again. Her ears buzzed and perspiration beaded above her lip. She tried to clench her teeth and forge on, but everything began to go gray around her. She knew she had to stop before she passed out again. “Donovan?”

  He put a hand beneath her elbow. “Dizzy?”

  “A little. You think we could rest for a minute?”

  “As long as you need. Sit down. Put your head between your legs.”

  She followed his instructions, and was relieved when the world finally stopped spinning. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “Would you stop apologizing? I need a rest, too. My leg hurts like hell.”

  That brought her head back up. “Do you think you’ve re-injured it? Is there anything I can do?”

  He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You worry about your health and I’ll worry about mine, okay?”

  Though the words were brusque, his gentle tone belied them. She knew full well that he was more worried about her than he was about himself. “Right,” she answered lightly. “I’ll be completely selfish. Doesn’t matter to me if your leg falls right off.”

  “That’s the spirit,” he replied with a hint of a smile.

  Her own smile faded as another wave of weakness coursed through her. She put her head down again.

  Donovan’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “Want me to get you some water?”

  “No, thank you. Maybe I’ll just lie down for a few minutes.”


  He urged her to lie with her head on his left thigh rather than on the rocky ground. She felt his fingers in her hair as he brushed it away from her fever-dampened face.

  “It seems warmer today,” she murmured, her eyes closed, her head pillowed comfortably on his firm thigh.

  “Maybe a little. I’m afraid we’re facing another thunderstorm. Those clouds don’t look promising.”

  She spoke without opening her eyes. “I’ve been hearing a lot of thunder. Seems like it’s getting closer. How far do you think we’ve walked since we left the cave?”

  He hesitated a moment, then said, “Maybe a mile. A mile and a half at the most.”

  She frowned. “That’s all? But we’ve been walking for hours.”

  “A couple of hours. We just haven’t been moving very quickly.”

  “Have you seen any signs of civilization?”

  “A few.”

  That made her eyes open. “Are you serious or just trying to make me feel better?”

  “I’m serious. There have been hikers through here in the past few weeks, probably following the stream as we have been. This could even be an established hiking trail, though I doubt there are many hikers out with this weather threatening. We’re probably no more than ten miles from a road of some sort.”

  “Ten miles?”

  “Just a guess, of course.”

  “Your guesses have been on target so far. We should be able to walk ten miles today, shouldn’t we?”

  Again, that telltale hesitation before he answered. “Under normal circumstances, sure. With the shape we’re both in, maybe. If the rain starts again as heavily as I think it’s going to, we’ll have to find shelter again. Spring storms can be dangerous, especially around this stream.”

  “Do you think there’s any chance there are rescuers looking for us in this area?” she asked with a wistful note she couldn’t quite conceal.

  “There’s always a chance.”

  She couldn’t take much encouragement from his tone. She closed her eyes and tried to gather strength to start walking again. Her head pounded and every inch of her body ached. It was so tempting to just let herself slide into sleep and stay there. Oblivion was sounding better all the time.

  She felt Donovan stroke her hair again. She felt the tension in his leg, and knew she was causing him concern again. She was sorry about that, but she just couldn’t put on a strong front at the moment. She hoped to be able to do so again after a brief rest.

  She had just convinced herself to open her eyes again when the first raindrop hit her cheek. It was followed by more, becoming a light rain punctuated with increasingly loud claps of thunder.

  “We have to find shelter,” Donovan urged. “We can’t risk being out in the open or beneath a tree in case of lightning. There’s a rock overhang a few yards away. We’ll huddle under that until the storm passes, okay?”

  Had it just been herself, she might well have lain right there and dared the lightning to hit her. The thought of forcing herself to her feet was almost enough to make her wish it would. But Donovan’s safety was at risk, too, she reminded herself.

  She pushed herself upright. “I’ll help you up,” she said, forcibly ignoring the dizziness.

  His attempt to smile came across more like a grimace. “We’ll help each other.”

  Doing so had gotten them this far, she reminded herself. No matter how tempting the thought might be, she couldn’t give up as long as Donovan still depended on her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wallace Childers’s florid face was covered in a film of sweat, his muddy brown eyes were bulging with panic. An outside observer might think he was in fear for his life, though the two well-dressed men who faced him had been almost excessively polite when they had invited him to sit and “chat” with them.

  Several suitcases were stacked behind him, testifying to his activity just before his uninvited guests had arrived so dramatically. Twenty minutes later and they would have missed him altogether.

  “You’ve got this all wrong, Falcon,” he blustered, speaking to the man he considered to be the most dangerous. “I had nothing to do with the disappearance of your—”

  “Childers,” Bryan cut in, his voice very soft but quite clear. “I think you should reconsider the rest of that sentence. You see, Jason and I aren’t debating about whether to have you arrested for arranging a kidnapping.”

  Standing behind his seated employer, his arms crossed over his chest, his face totally impassive, Jason Colby shook his head.

  “You aren’t?”

  “No. We’ve actually been discussing whether we should let you live.”

  Childers jerked as if he’d been shocked by an electric current. “You can’t just burst into my apartment and threaten my life!” he shouted, waving a trembling hand at the door that still hung precariously from its broken hinges.

  “You’re absolutely right,” Bryan agreed pleasantly. “Why don’t you call the police?”

  There was a lengthy silence in the room. No one moved.

  Childers’s eyes jumped from the telephone to the two deceptively relaxed-looking men waiting for him to make a move. Standing just inside the open doorway, almost quivering with the suppressed urge to speak, stood a young woman with brown hair and furious hazel eyes. A woman who looked so much like Chloe Pennington that Childers had nearly fainted when he’d first seen her.

  He swallowed hard. “I told you, already. I don’t know where your friends are.”

  “Perhaps you should think a bit harder,” Bryan prodded.

  From the doorway, the woman spoke impatiently. “He’s not going to help us. Just kill him, Colby.”

  Childers could almost feel the blood drain from his face as Jason Colby looked fully prepared to follow the woman’s suggestion.

  Though Bryan’s mouth twitched with what might have been a hint of a smile, he held up a hand without looking around at his companions. “Grace—you promised not to speak,” he reminded her, causing her to subside into resentful silence again. “And Jason follows my instructions alone. Now, Mr. Childers—perhaps you’d like to start over? Where are my friends?”

  The narrow rock ledge above them provided little protection from the driving rain, but maybe it gave them some shelter from the lightning that ripped across the charcoal-colored sky above them. At least, Donovan hoped he hadn’t made another mistake by stuffing them into this hollow.

  Holding Chloe in his arms, he had his back turned as much as possible to the outside, trying to shield her from the rain that blew in on them. His back was soaked, his hair dripping. Chloe wasn’t much drier, but at least he seemed to be taking the brunt of it.

  As often as he had urged her not to give up during the past three days, he found himself teetering on the verge of doing so now. Maybe he’d been in worse situations—he couldn’t remember at the moment—but it was Chloe’s suffering that was ripping his heart out.

  She’d tried so hard, but she had just about reached her limits. And he hadn’t been a hell of a lot of help to her—first letting her get kidnapped, then leading her into the forest, idiotically hurting his leg, bringing her into the sights of a crazy man’s shotgun, and now sitting with her in the middle of a damned lightning storm.

  Bryan wouldn’t have to fire him when this was over, he decided. He was going to quit. He didn’t deserve to keep a position of responsibility and trust.

  Maybe he could build himself a lean-to in another deserted forest somewhere.

  The air crackled around him as a bolt of lightning sliced through the forest nearby. The crash of thunder competed with the sound of splitting wood and hammering rain. Donovan could smell the ozone in the air and feel the hairs standing up on his arms and the back of his neck. He could only hope again that the ledge would protect them.

  The way his luck had been running, it would more likely fall on them, he thought glumly.

  Cradled against his shoulder, Chloe moaned a little, then stirred, interrupting his private org
y of self-recrimination.

  “I must have fallen asleep,” she said, her voice thick.

  “Only for a few minutes. Go ahead and rest. There’s nothing else to do until this storm breaks.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” she said. “At least, I was thinking about it before I fell asleep.”

  “Thinking about what?”

  “When the storm is over. Even with your injured leg, you’ve been making better time than I have today, since this stupid fever keeps making me so dizzy. If you leave me here, maybe you can—”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  Though his sharp tone had been intended to stop any argument, she persisted anyway. “Think about it before you say no, Donovan. You said yourself we’re probably close to a road.”

  “I could be wrong. It was a total guess.”

  “I know, but you could be right. If we wait much longer, we’re both going to be too weak and too sick to walk at all. God knows how, considering your leg and all, but you’re still holding up pretty well. You’re the logical one to go for help.”

  “Chloe, I am not leaving you in the forest alone with a high fever. End of discussion.”

  She sighed. “All right. I’ll try to keep walking as soon as the storm is over.”

  “I know it won’t be easy, but you have to try. We have to get you to help as quickly as possible. Infections can be…well, they can be dangerous.”

  She bit her lip, probably remembering what he’d told her about his mother. “It’s probably just a passing fever. Or weakness from not eating. I’m sure I’ll be able to go on after resting for a while. I just thought it would be quicker if you—”

  “If I have to carry you on my back, I’m not leaving you here alone.”

  She didn’t speak again for a while. They listened to the storm, shivered when cold rain blew in on them, and dealt silently with their individual mental and physical discomforts. Donovan was just about to start another silent litany of his failings when Chloe broke the silence between them again with a request that caught him completely by surprise. “Tell me why you hate to be called a bodyguard.”