He honestly didn’t know how she kept going. Little sleep, less food, only occasional sips of water from the stream, the bottoms of her feet shredded. He was hardly in top shape, himself, but he’d had more experience with this sort of thing—from boot camp to Saudi Arabia and assorted other demanding locales.
As he’d thought several times before, Chloe was definitely tougher than she looked.
He could still almost taste her lips on his. Could still feel their texture, their warmth, their softness. And it took very little stretch of his imagination to fantasize about taking the kiss further and making love with her—in a bed or here in this wannabe cave. Those fantasies had kept him awake all night.
Being neither stupid nor oblivious, he was well aware that Chloe had developed an attraction for him. As mutual as those feelings might be, he was making a massive effort not to let them get out of hand.
He had seen his share of what he’d always thought of as “battle-zone romances”—relationships that developed rapidly under intense conditions, then fizzled just as swiftly when life returned to normal. He wouldn’t risk anything of that sort with Chloe.
For another thing, he would be betraying Bryan—something he’d long ago vowed never to do.
Even if Chloe was starting to have doubts about her future with Bryan, Donovan had no intention of taking advantage of those misgivings. Despite her repeated assertions that she didn’t blame Bryan for this situation, he wasn’t sure that she wasn’t secretly harboring some resentment. The very natural anger she surely felt had to find an outlet. After the kidnappers themselves, she probably directed at least part of it toward Bryan.
Considering Bryan’s renowned charm, Donovan didn’t think it would take his friend long to get past that repressed resentment once Chloe was safely back with him.
But it wasn’t just loyalty alone that was making Donovan hold Chloe at emotional arm’s length, though that would have been enough in itself. There was also the niggling suspicion that his own emotions were being unduly influenced by their circumstances. It seemed uncharacteristic of him, but how else could he explain his growing fascination with her?
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.