Saint
“Keira!”
My legs are already moving when her name scrapes past my throat, boots skidding as I bolt down the slope toward the river.
I hear only its roar, seeing white water churn where she’d vanished.
While I run, I peel off my coat and fling it in my wake before ripping my cap and shirt off, throwing them too.
The gun follows straight after I strip off anything that’ll drag me under.
I hit the river hard, the shock of ice water slamming into my chest and knocking the breath clean out of me.
The current catches my legs, yanking my body sideways as rapid water surges up my torso as if the river wants a sacrifice.
“Keira!” I yell again, stumbling on the riverbed, eyes cutting through the spray.
I spot her downstream near the bend, clinging to a boulder with both arms wrapped tight around it while the water breaks over her face in violent bursts, dragging her under and spitting her out again.
“Hold on!” I shout. “I’m coming.”
Not giving a fuck that I’m breathless, I fight through the current instead of meeting it head-on, planting each step hard while my lungs burn.
By the time I reach her, she’s in full panic mode, fingers slipping, body shaking as she loses her grip.
“I’ve got ya.” I slide an arm around her from behind, locking it across her chest before securing her back against me with a hand braced hard against her stomach. “Relax. I’ll have you out of here in a few minutes.”
Water crashes over us both, and her fingers scrabble at my arms, gripping tighter as she struggles to breathe.
I haul her higher against my chest and clamp my arm tight around her middle, keeping her face clear as best I can.
The current slams into my back, furious now, trying to tear her from my grip and drag us both downstream.
Every step is slow and brutal, a test of strength and balance.
When my boot finally finds mud instead of stone, relief hits hard, and I use it to drag us the rest of the way out, hauling her onto the bank before dropping to my knees beside her.
She coughs, folding in on herself as water pours from her mouth, her whole body shaking.
“Fuck, Keira,” I breathe out her name, crowding into her space, my hands gliding over her shoulders, her cold arms, her back, checking for blood, for anything that shouldn’t be there. “Are you hurt? Talk to me. Did ya smack your head?”
I sweep wet strands away from her eyes and cup her cheeks, forcing her gaze to meet mine.
“Breathe,” I tell her, even as my heart hammers harder. “You’re safe now.”
My hands move to her arms, rubbing up and down to force heat back into her bones.
“Get the fuck off me.” Her voice breaks as she yanks her arms away. “I’m hardly safe, Saint—stop touching me.”
My muscles lock when she scrambles sideways on hands and knees, coughing and spluttering, soaked through, fury burning bright in her eyes.
“That was all your fault,” she hisses. “I almost drowned. Being with you is the least safe place I could be.”
I don’t move.
Keira wraps shaky arms around her midriff, shoulders caving as the fight drains out of her all at once, leaving her shivering and spent in the grass.
I stay where I am, kneeling in the mud, breathing hard.
She’s right, and there’s fuck all I can do about it. My responsibility ends with getting her home alive once the deal’s done.
Until then, I’ll keep my head straight. Keep my hands to myself.
“We need to dry off,” I tell her, pushing to my feet and turning back to grab my coat. “Bran bolted, so we’re stuck out here till someone comes looking. And I’m not marching miles in wet clothes.”
Keira huddles in on herself, drawing her knees to her chest as she sits there shivering.
“C’mon, get up.” I tuck my gun into the back of my jeans. “We need to find shelter and get out of the wind.”
“Wonderful,” she mutters. “I have to endure you alone for God-knows how long.”
The wind whips around us, her teeth chattering loud enough to hear it over the river. My balls are turning blue, hypothermia nipping close, and my patience is wearing thin.
“Either you stand,” I say, “or I carry ya. You choose.”
My gaze drills into her.
She pushes herself upright, but it’s clear straight away she’s got nothing left when she tries to stand.
Her legs tremble, knees wobbling as she sways on the spot, lips already tinged blue.
She doesn’t make it two steps before I’m on her, draping my coat around her shoulders and wrapping it tight. Once she’s covered, I sweep her up off her feet and haul her against my chest.
“Put me down,” she mutters, hands fisting the coat to keep it closed.
“No.”
“Saint.”
“Harrington.”
She huffs. “Ugh. You’re an asshole.”
“And you’re more hassle than you’re worth.”
I carry her toward the trees; the movement driving heat into my veins. My boots trample through brush until the land dips and the wind drops away.
When I reach a patch of grass that’s shielded on all sides, I sink to one knee and set her down.
“While I’m gone, strip off the wet clothes,” I tell her. “They’re making ya colder. I’m getting wood for a fire.”
I straighten, looking down at her. “Can I trust you not to wander off and make this worse?”
“Take your time,” she mutters, refusing to look at me. “The longer you’re away, the better.”
“Don’t be a brat.”
“Or what?” She glares at me. “You’ll drown me?”
I swallow hard, the twitch in my hand flaring, then rip off my drenched vest and scrub myself down with the shirt before pulling it back on, noticing a few buttons are gone.
“I’m not going far,” I say, running a hand through my damp hair. “Stay put.”
I turn and head back into the wind, hunting for fallen branches and dry brush for kindling. The cold cuts straight through me, damp jeans clinging like ice to my legs as I work fast.
By the time I return with an armful of wood, she’s wrapped in my coat, bare legs tucked close, her wet clothes abandoned beside her.
My pulse jumps, irritation flaring hot on its heels. I’m a grown fucking man. I can handle a half-drowned Harrington.
“You okay?” I ask.
Last thing I need is her passing out or getting sick out here.
“Ask me that when I’m in my bed with a hot water bottle and a glass of wine,” she says, voice dripping with mockery. “And I mean my bed. My home. My wine.”
“For me to ask that question, I’d have to be in bed with ya,” I say with a dry tone. “D’ya think your daddy would be happy with that?”
I cock a brow, taunting her because I want that bite of hers back.
“Oh, please.” She snorts. “You’ll be on your side of the heath with your cheese toasties and a stretch of Tallon land that clearly doesn’t want a Harrington breathing on it.”
“Funny that.” I smile as I build the fire on my knees. “Our land has never wanted Harringtons on it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Then you should’ve listened instead of dragging me over to your side.”
I move closer and pat the coat she’s wearing, checking the pockets for my lighter and smokes.
“What are you doing, pervert?” She leans away.
An abrupt laugh breaks out of me, catching me off guard.
“If that were true,” I say, digging the lighter out, “I’d be warming myself up another way.”
She opens her mouth, thinks better of it, then looks away. “Just… Hurry up and light the fire.”
I fish out the pack of smokes next, take one, and slot it behind my ear, only then noticing the tremor in my hands from the cold.
These wet jeans need to come off, but she’s got my coat, and I’m not taking it away from her.
I crouch over the kindling, flick the lighter, and coax the flame until it catches. Smoke drifts, and I lean in, blowing until the fire takes hold. The heat is weak, but it’s better than nothing.
A hard shiver rips through my muscles. I curse under my breath, fingers stiff as I light the cigarette and inhale the smoke deep into my lungs.
Pressing it between my lips, I unbuckle my belt, step out of my jeans, and hang them over the lowest branch of a nearby tree, the fabric dripping into the dirt.
I grab her wet clothes next and hang those beside mine, spreading them out as best I can so they’ll dry faster.
Then I drop to my haunches near the fire, close enough so the heat reaches my skin.
“Why don’t you call someone?” she asks.
I keep my gaze on the flames and take another drag. “There’s no signal this far out. We haven’t had one since we crossed the lower track.”
The fire pops, sending a scatter of sparks into the air.
“So we’ll have to walk back when our clothes have dried,” she says.
“Nah.” My voice is steady, even as my hands refuse to stop shaking. “Bran’ll head home. Someone’ll come looking when he hits the yard alone. They’ll be here soon.”
She glances at me, frowns, then fiddles with the coat zipped to her throat.
“Saint,” she says quietly. “You’re going to freeze.”
“I’m fine.” I force a shrug. “The fire’s getting warmer.”
Another shiver tears through me, violent enough that my teeth knock together once before I clamp my jaw shut.
Her eyes drift to my mouth. “Your lips are blue.”
Truth is, I can’t afford to get sick. Not with everything riding on this.
So, fuck it.
“I’m not happy about getting this close to ya,” I say, moving. “I won’t let everything go to shit.”
I strip off my shirt and lay it out on the grass beside the fire.
Her brows snap together. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure neither of us dies out here.”
I’m already reaching for the zip of the coat when her hand comes up fast, slapping mine away, skin striking skin. The contact jolts through me harder than the cold ever could.
“Don’t,” she says, her breath uneven.
The coat parts anyway, and my gaze falls to her bare breasts before I can stop it.
Her nipples are drawn up hard and dark from the cold, and my mouth goes dry. My veins run red-hot despite the chill, and I swallow as goosebumps race over her skin, her body reacting to the air and to me staring when I shouldn’t.
“Everything about you is trouble,” I mutter, not giving myself time to think.
I spin her away and watch the coat slide loose in the movement before I strip it off her shoulders and tug her back against me. Her back collides with my chest, breath punching from both of us at once.
“Jesus, Saint—” she starts, but the word dissolves as I drag her down with me.
I pull the coat up and around us, draping it over my shoulders and pulling it toward her as I settle in behind, fitting her body into the space between my thighs.
The shirt is beneath us now, a thin layer to buffer the cold seeping up from the earth. I tug her closer, my forearms coming around her stomach, before I sit still.
Fuck, she feels good like this.
Bare skin, wet hair, her ass settled right against my cock with one thin layer of damp cotton in the way. I’m hard inside of a minute, and there’s no hiding it from her.
Her spine presses flush to my chest, and I’m all too aware of every shiver that moves through her, every involuntary reaction she makes as warmth blooms between us.
I shift the coat higher, sealing it around us, my fingers grazing her collarbone. She sucks in a breath that escapes as a little whimper.
“This isn’t okay…” she murmurs, though the bite in her tone has softened.
“It’s fine,” I mumble, my mouth close enough that the words stir the fine hairs at her temple. “No one’s gonna know.”
Another tremor runs through her, stronger than the last, and this time she doesn’t fight it, pressing in deeper to steal the heat she needs.
“Do you hate me that much?” she asks. “That you’d never mention this to anyone?”
“Mention what?” I reply, careful not to give the question any air. “Staying alive?”
I tighten my hold just enough to make the point.
“This is cold-weather survival,” I add. “Skin to skin for body heat. Nothing else.”
The fire throws out warmth, and she holds her hands closer to it, eyes fixed on the flames.
“And saving me back there,” she says, thoughtful, “that was more than a man protecting his leverage.”
She glances over her shoulder, catching my eye. “You called me Keira.”
I look past her gaze and stare at the flames.
“Which means I’m not just his daughter to you,” she goes on. “Not anymore.”
“You’re still a Harrington,” I say, because it’s the only thing I can reach for fast enough.
“Admit it. Go on. Tell me you don’t really hate me.” She maneuvers herself around to face me, the fire roaring at her back as she blinks. “And maybe I’ll forgive you for taking me.”
I look at her mouth, then force my attention back to her pretty eyes, because alone out here, with the trees closing around us and no one to interrupt, hate would be easier than whatever the fuck this is.