Pierce reentered the cave.
“They didn’t try to come down the trail after us, did they?” Roxanne asked.
“No. But they were about to when I called. They’d been searching the area and were fortunate enough to find some bullet casings before the rain hit. I told them where we were, and sent them back to the ranch. They’re not going to find anything else out there in this weather. They’ll contact the sheriff’s department and let them know about the casings.”
Once both horses were cared for, Roxanne trudged her way through the darkness, searching for anything they could use for firewood. When she and her brother had last been inside the cave years ago, they’d left enough fuel to burn for the next visit, knowing firewood was scarce on the plains.
In the shadows farther away from the entrance, she located the ring of stones they’d arranged for the fire. That was expected. Less expected was what she found at the center of the circle—charred firewood, discarded cans and plastic wrappers that had definitely not come from her or Mason.
“Someone has used this cave. By the looks of this trash, fairly recently.” Roxanne lifted a plastic wrapper and something shone brightly beneath, catching the little bit of light from the cave’s access. “Interesting.” She pushed the object out of the dirt. “It’s a bullet.” From the shooter? Well, who else could it be? This cave was on Carmichael property, and there certainly wasn’t anyone who had permission to be using it.
Pierce caught her hand as she reached for the shiny metal. “Don’t. We might be able to lift prints. And let me have that plastic wrapper.” He tore the tail of his shirt off and picked up the unexploded round and the wrapper using the piece of fabric, tucking the wad into his jeans pocket.
Roxanne rearranged the ring of stones, searching for any other items of interest. “You think the man who camped here is the same man who shot at me?”
His lips thinned into a straight line. “We won’t know until the state crime lab can perform the forensics on the casing and compare it to the ones my brothers found.”
“Hopefully, the sheriff made it out to the ranch and has started the investigation.”
Pierce’s jaw clenched at the mention of the sheriff.
Cold slithered across Roxanne’s skin, reminding her of what she’d been searching for in the first place. She inched her way to the darkest corner, hoping any critters who might have called this cave home had scurried out, preferring the warmth of the summer prairie to the cool darkness. She found the stash of tinder and dry wood they’d left well before her brother’s death, still hidden behind a boulder.
As she emerged into the meager light carrying an armful of firewood, Pierce had pulled out the bag of sandwiches and trail mix his mother had insisted on him bringing. When he saw what Roxanne held, he dropped the bag next to the stone ring and relieved her of her burden. “You shouldn’t be carrying that. You might get that gash bleeding again.”
She thought about arguing but decided it wasn’t worth it. Besides, her arm really did hurt. If he wanted to take care of the fire himself, that was fine with her.
Within minutes a cheerful fire burned brightly, lighting even the darkest corners of the cavern, chasing away the shadows and spiders.
Roxanne laid her saddle blanket on the ground beside the flames to dry, and then collapsed in the dirt close to the fire, grateful for the warmth as the chill of damp clothing set in. Her teeth clattered together, the ache in the back of her head intensifying as the painkiller she’d taken earlier wore off. She rubbed the knot at the base of her skull, kneading the soreness, hoping to ease the ache in the absence of medication.
“Here, let me,” said a brusque voice from behind her, and her fingers were brushed aside.
Warm, callused hands curled around her neck. Thumbs avoided the lump, smoothing the hair and skin in gentle circles.
Tense muscles relaxed, the soreness fading as Roxanne pushed aside the fact that Pierce was the source of her relief. For a moment, she let the heat of his fingers chase away the chill inside, leaning back into his broad chest.
The thumbs stilled, and his hands froze against her skin.
A shiver, originating at the base of her spine, rocketed all the way up her back, shaking her violently. Once the trembling began, it didn’t abate.
His hands jerked away from her and he stood, backing up several steps. “You have to get out of those wet clothes.”
“And w-what am I s-supposed to wear in the m-mean time?” she quipped, the chattering of her teeth taking the barb out of her response.
“Wearing nothing is better than keeping the dampness against your skin. The moisture conducts heat away from your body.”
“I know that.” Still, she couldn’t quite stomach the thought of undressing in front of him. With everything that had happened with the shooter and her injury, she felt too vulnerable. Common sense told her that she needed to get the clothes away from her skin, but every instinct protested. She couldn’t let herself be weak where Pierce Thunder Horse was concerned, lest it create a leak in the dam of emotions she’d held in check since he’d returned.
Stubbornly, she wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them up against her body for more warmth. Her body’s trembles turned into bone-shaking shivers, so violent she thought she’d rattle apart.
“Good grief, woman. It’s not as though I haven’t seen you naked before.” He grabbed her hand and urged her to her feet, standing her in front of him. His hands clamped down on her shoulders and he rubbed them through the damp cotton of the T-shirt she wore.
“You’re freezing. I suspect shock is setting in from your fall and injury. If we don’t get you warmed up, you could have some serious problems, and we both know that there’s no way I could get you some help until the weather clears.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” She pressed her hands into his chest, pushing against him. “I can undress myself.”
He let go of her, his lips twisting. “Go for it.”
Her fingers fumbled with the hem of her shirt. They shook so hard, she couldn’t manage to pull it up over her torso. “I don’t know…what’s…wrong…” Tears welled in her eyes, and before she could stop them, ran down her cheeks. Now she couldn’t even see what she was doing.
“Give it up.” Pierce’s whispered words stirred the wisps of hair beside Roxanne’s ear, his breath warming her cold skin.
“Never,” she said, though her hands fell to her sides. Giving it up would have to mean trusting him, and she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t! But when he reached out to her again, she found that she couldn’t quite bring herself to stop him, either. She’d been cold for so very long…and Pierce was always so warm.
Deft fingers made quick work of tugging her shirt up and over her head, easing it past the wound on her shoulder and the back of her scalp.
Roxanne’s breath lodged in her throat and her gaze traveled upward to connect with the darkness of the Lakotan’s eyes. Months of sorrow, of love lost and families betrayed couldn’t begin to melt away in one look.
She wanted to say no, wanted to shake her head, push him away, stay strong all on her own, the way she had for months. But God help her, she also wanted to say yes, to relax and let someone else take control, maybe even take care of her for a little while.
In the end, she didn’t say anything at all. Neither did he. Instead, his lips lowered, so slowly she had plenty of time to resist, to turn away and run.
But she didn’t.
EVERY THOUGHT, NERVE, beat of Pierce’s heart centered on Roxanne. Her fiery red hair lay wet and curling against her face, her mouth opened, her tongue flicking out to slide across her lips.
He