Protector's Honor

Rory straightened, offering a hand to her. As her palm settled into his, a warm sensation rippled through him—not unlike the pleasant jolt he suffered when he’d spotted her on the lakeshore earlier that morning.

She pulled up and applied weight to both feet then collapsed. Rory shot his arms out and pulled her to his chest. No jolt this time, but he couldn’t pretend he didn’t notice her soft curves brushing against him.

“Okay. Take it easy. Where’s the damage?”

“Right ankle. I turned it. That’s how they got me.”

Already she seemed calmer, her speech more steady. She hobbled back and pushed his hand away as if she didn’t need his help.

He grinned at her determined efforts. “Ms.—”

“Tabitha Beaumont,” she said softly. “And thank you. Thank you for helping me.”

“Tabitha.” He grinned. “I like that. A good strong name.” He put his hand on her elbow, again offering his support. “Rory Farrell and it’s my pleasure. Now, the closest place for us to get help is at the inn, just up the hill here. I’ll piggyback you.”

“Piggyback? No. I’m all right.” She stared up the steep slope and again slid her elbow from his grasp.

“Look, ma’am, I’m a marine. Trust me. I won’t drop you. I’ve done this sort of thing plenty of times.”

She gave him a funny look then began scanning the area below. “You know, there’s another path down there. We could go down instead of up.”

Rory narrowed his eyes and flattened his lips. He wasn’t used to people questioning his authority, especially in this kind of situation. “That trail leads to the falls. We need to go up.”

Tabitha folded her arms across her chest—a stance which he supposed was meant to look defiant. The movement threw her off balance. Rory had to grab her arms again to keep her from toppling over.

“I promise it’s better to go up.” He pulled her close, forcing her weight into his arms, taking the pressure off her bad ankle. Her face scrunched up with disapproval, but he didn’t release her. “Trust me. Let me help you.”

For one moment, she quit struggling and steadied her eyes into his. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous. I know I need your help.”

A little too quickly, Rory lost himself in her large chocolate eyes. The urge to brush his knuckles across her cheek where some errant curls stuck to her smooth olive skin overwhelmed him and he shook his head to clear his mind. He should have been too focused for such a senseless thought.

“You’re sure there’s not another way?” she asked.

“Positive.” He released her long enough to reclaim the 9 mm Beretta from the ground and engaged its safety. “We’ll need to give this to the police.”

“Police?” She blinked.

“Of course. As soon as we get back, we have to report this.”

“Yes. Right. I’m not thinking clearly. Sorry.”

“Understandable.” He looked at the gun and then down at his flimsy bike shorts. “Could you—”

She turned a shoulder. “Here?”

He tucked the gun snugly into the back of her jogging top. Then he squatted for her to climb aboard. Her hand tentatively came down to his right shoulder blade. It retreated just as quickly.

“No time to be shy.” Urging her bad leg forward, Rory knocked her weight onto his back and felt her slide into position. Two long legs wrapped around his torso. Her hands went to his shoulders. She left as much space as possible between their bodies.

The balance wasn’t ideal but he lifted her easily enough and started up the mountain. Planting each foot securely, banking every step, he clung to tree trunks and slowly advanced.

“You okay?” he grunted, feeling the lactic acid burn in his thighs.

“Peachy,” she answered.

“Well, I’ve got you. Just relax.”

“Relax? You’re kidding?”

“Your hands. Relax your hands.”

To his relief, she extracted her nails from his flesh. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. You must regret—”

He heard that familiar hitch in a voice trying to fight off a good cry.

“I don’t regret a thing,” he said between exerted breaths. “Now, put your arms across my chest and pull closer.”

Tabitha didn’t budge. But she didn’t cry. Strong, stubborn, shy. He respected her responses, although the timidity surprised him.

“Don’t think about it. Do it.”

Once she did, Rory decided that despite his own exhaustion, he could have carried her all day. She felt light and for the first time in months, so did he.

The marine moved with amazing agility even with her hanging on to his back like a frightened kitten. When he’d come out of the woods screaming like a wild man, she’d thanked God that very instant for sending him. What would have happened if he hadn’t come?

Getting up the last part of the slope proved tricky, but Rory managed until they reached the runner’s trail. He put her down nice and easy then folded over at the waist struggling for his breath. The way he pinched at his side, she could only imagine the cramping he had suffered.

In less than a minute, a small group of racers passed. Rory stood and joined them.

“Got an injured runner here,” he announced. “Could one of you send a golf cart for us?”

“Sure,” one of them answered. A couple of them looked at her.

Tabitha glanced at Rory. “Go on,” she said. “I’ll be fine. You should finish the race.”

He ignored her and whispered something else to the others. Again, they glanced back then moved on.

“Really. Go on. I’ll be fine,” she repeated, as he walked toward the tree that she leaned against.

“Are you kidding?” He smirked, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead. “I’m done. I seriously doubt I could make it to the finish. Anyway, I’d be one lousy rescuer if I upped and left you here.”

Tabitha frowned, but truly she was relieved. She didn’t want to be alone. Even though he was a stranger and she hated needing so much help, the fact that he’d risked his own life for her made her feel safe and connected to him.

“Did you tell them about the attack?”

“Not in so many words. But I wanted them to get some policemen looking around. Those men could still be on the mountain.”

Rory turned and stretched his back with a few twists. He dripped with sweat and his nose trickled a bit of blood. Regardless, Tabitha could see that he was an attractive man. The blue of his eyes reminded her of the ocean, deep and expressive. She saw something in them, in him, which gave her a warm, peaceful feeling she’d not sensed from many men.