Chapter 12

12

Tanner inched the coat-disguised broom through the open window. With dawn only a couple of hours away, he and Maisy needed to make their escape soon.

For most of the night, he'd witnessed movement along the perimeter of the clearing in the moonlight—the glint of a gun barrel, the smolder of a cigar, the flickers of a campfire. He'd also heard the voices of men calling out to each other once in a while. But over the past hour or so, the night had grown quieter, and he hadn't seen anyone on the east side of the cabin.

He pushed the broom out farther, using it as a decoy. If anyone was watching the window, they'd likely think it was him trying to slip outside. And he wanted to see what they'd do.

Maisy had awakened after a couple of hours of sleep, and now she stood behind him, her heavy wool coat on and her body almost brushing his with how close she was.

He paused with the broom halfway out and strained to hear any voices or calls of alarm. But the silence of the night was heavy, the distant rushing of the river below the only sound.

"I think we can go," he whispered, moving the broom again.

In the next instant, a shot rang out. He jerked back just as a bullet split the glass in the upper windowpane. Pieces cracked, several toppling out of place, falling, and crashing against the floor.

He drew the broom inside at the same time that he flattened himself backward against Maisy to protect her. The move pushed her into the log wall so that his back was against her chest.

For long seconds, they didn't move. He'd already dropped the broom and had his revolver in hand.

"Do you think they'll shoot again?" she whispered.

"I don't think they're aiming for us." He sized up the spot where the bullet had shattered the glass. It was high enough in the window that whoever had taken the shot hadn't meant to hit him, had only wanted to prevent him from leaving. Or they had terrible aim, which wasn't likely since most men who lived in the wilderness had to become proficient hunters or go hungry.

"Lester and his men are sending us a message that they don't want to hurt us, but they're serious about holding us hostage until we give them Smoke."

Behind him, she remained motionless, her body tense. "Does this mean we won't be able to sneak out?"

"I don't know." From the careful surveillance the men were keeping, it didn't look as though that plan would work. But he wasn't giving up hope yet.

Lester's raised voice from outside called across the distance. "There's only one way out of the cabin, and that's with a dead wolf in hand."

Tanner could feel Maisy getting ready to shout something back. He spun and clamped a hand over her mouth. "Don't say anything."

In the moonlight streaming through the window, her eyes appeared wider than usual.

She mumbled something, was probably chewing him out.

He pressed in closer until his mouth was near her ear. "The less they know about what we're doing, the better."

She stilled and then nodded.

Slowly he lowered his hand from her mouth and at the same time holstered his revolver, but suddenly he was conscious of the feel of her loose hair against his jaw and how close his mouth was to her ear and her cheek. All he had to do was move a fraction and his lips would brush her skin.

Even though the situation was dangerous and uncertain, he was conscious of every breath she took, because her chest rose and fell against his. He hadn't pressed against her too forcefully, but he'd drawn closer than he should have.

He didn't move, couldn't force himself to back away even though he knew he needed to.

She didn't budge either.

Her words from earlier in the night came back to taunt him, as they had already a dozen times since their conversation. Maybe I want to be with you, and maybe we shouldn't worry about all the reasons we aren't right for each other .

She'd basically told him that she was willing to have a relationship with him. Maybe not in those exact words, but she'd made it clear that she was interested in him and whatever was developing between them—enough that she'd consider changing her plans.

He couldn't let her change her plans, could he?

She shifted a fraction, and her nose grazed his neck.

A wave of desire slammed into him, nearly knocking him breathless. He lifted his hands to either side of her body, boxing her in, and at the same time, he lowered his head so that his lips touched her ear.

She drew in a trembling breath and let her lips skim his neck.

The touch set him on fire. He leaned in closer to the hollow of her ear and kissed her hard.

She gave a soft murmur as she grasped his shirt. And then her lips pressed more fully to his neck.

What was he doing? He couldn't kiss her like this. It would only lead down a path he couldn't follow. He closed his eyes and fisted his hands to fight against all the longing coursing through him.

There was no denying how strong the need for her was growing with each passing day. He didn't understand the intensity of it, but he guessed the attraction was a result of being with her constantly. He'd rarely had a moment away from her since arriving. The more time he spent with her, the more qualities he saw in her that he liked, and there had already been plenty to begin with.

She was an incredible woman in so many ways... which was why he had to keep his distance from her. He couldn't give in to this momentary weakness. He had to stay strong for her sake. She deserved much better than he could offer.

Sure, she might be able to cast aside her dreams of having a normal husband and normal life because she was feeling the strong magnetism this week too. But if he let her do that, eventually she'd grow resentful of him, of her life, of what she'd given up.

He took a rapid step back from her. But she was clinging to his shirt and didn't let him get far. "Don't push me away again, Tanner," she whispered, standing up on her toes and kissing his neck once more.

"We can't be together, and you know it." He ought to cross to the other side of the room and put some distance between them, but her lips on his neck sent a charge all the way from his head down to his feet, immobilizing him.

"We can if that's what we want." She raised her face and this time skimmed his lips with hers.

He nearly groaned with all the need for her that he'd tried to hold back.

He was tired of resisting, tired of denying himself, tired of being strong when all he wanted was her. He wanted to kiss her and maybe never have to leave her again.

Was that even possible?

He let his mouth fuse with hers deeply as his hands slid up her back, eager for the feel of her beneath his fingertips. He craved her more than anything else, even more than his sanity—which he was obviously losing fast.

Her lips met his with a heated passion and desperate rhythm that matched his, as if she was trying to get as much of him as she could before he was torn away from her. In fact, her hands balled his shirt tighter, as if she had no plans to let go anytime soon and was demanding that he stay there.

He loved her bossiness even in her kissing and loved knowing that she was eager for him. It only seemed to ignite something deeper inside him—something that made him want to claim her and never let any other man even look at her. It was as if each beat of his heart thudded out "Mine, mine, mine."

But was she really his? He had no right to her now or anytime—not without being married to her. And he couldn't marry her, could he? Yes, she'd said they could do whatever they wanted. But once he was gone and she had the chance to think about the situation, she'd come to her senses and realize he wasn't the man for her.

At another call outside, he broke the kiss and took a rapid step away.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt," Lester was saying, "but next time you try to leave the cabin, we won't miss."

The threat hung in the air, as cold and clear as the breeze now blowing in through the broken window. It sent a chill up his backbone, and he dropped his head, the futility of their situation weighing heavily upon him—the futility of trying to save Smoke and also the futility of trying to have a life with her. Both were impossible. And he was a fool to think otherwise.

She slipped her fingers into his.

"No, Maisy." His whisper was harsh, and he pulled back, moving his hand out of her reach.

"Yes, Tanner." She attempted to grab his hand again.

She was a stubborn and determined woman, and when she set her mind to something, she rarely failed, even when nursing a wounded creature.

But he was quicker than she was, and he dodged away and rapidly crossed to the opposite wall.

"After that kiss, how can you keep pushing me away?" Her whisper was filled with hurt. "You can't tell me that you don't feel everything too."

He couldn't deny her. But the real problem was that he had nothing to offer her—not when he didn't know who he was or where he'd come from or what he wanted. He was a lost man with an empty past, an empty present, and an empty future.

The truth was, he'd always been lost—had never really belonged anywhere, not even at the Oakleys'. And maybe that was why he'd needed to find out more about his past. Maybe he'd believed that if he could discover where he'd come from, he'd have an easier time discovering where he needed to go.

But that hadn't happened. And in his heart of hearts, he was still as restless and unsettled as always, maybe even more so.

"We're good together," she said earnestly. In the dark, he could see her outline, and her petite body was rigid. "We make a good team."

"The problem isn't you. It's me."

"I don't understand. You're a wonderful man, Tanner. I can't imagine meeting anyone I like better."

He shook his head, trying to find a way to explain himself. But how could he when he could barely make sense of everything? "I don't know what I'm feeling."

"I think you're falling in love with me."

Was he? He'd never been in love before, but he imagined it felt very close to all that he was experiencing with her.

"And I think I'm falling in love with you," she added softly.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Their relationship was quickly heading into a new territory that they didn't need to go to. He had to rein them in and put a halt to things before she had him down on one knee proposing marriage.

And as stubborn as Maisy was, no doubt she'd have them engaged before the night was through.

He couldn't let that happen. Not yet. And maybe not ever.

Clenching his jaw against his mounting frustration, he glanced around the room. Smoke was standing and watching him, his ears drooping as though he knew the outcome of the night and was prepared for it.

The wolf knew it and so did Tanner. So why put it off? Besides, if he wanted a way to push Maisy away, this would do it.

He tugged his gun loose.

Having started to follow him, she froze by the table at the center of the room. "What are you doing?"

"I'm doing what I should have from the start."

"You're not killing Smoke."

"There's no other way."