He lifted off her and grabbed her shotgun and pack. He kept his other hand latched on her jacket and pulled her to her feet with one swift, powerful jerk, then started dragging her down the hill.

Unable to do anything else, Emma stumbled after him. She tried to dislodge his grip on her jacket, but Ben Sinclair didn’t break stride, turn around, or even acknowledge that she had to run to keep up. He did start with his infamous cursing again, once they were far enough away they couldn’t be heard.

Emma gave him a few choice words in return. When he stopped, she stumbled into the fist shackling her.

“Lady, if you don’t shut up and quit struggling, I promise you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”

Emma snapped her mouth shut and glared back at him. He turned and started along a brook, once more dragging her behind him.

“How you and my son have survived this long is the eighth wonder of the world.”

“What are you doing here?”

He stopped again and turned to her, his scowl darkening even more. “I’m on a fool’s mission.” That information given, he pushed her ahead of him and then prodded her back. “Keep going until I tell you to stop.”

Emma thought about planting her feet, but he was a head taller, sixty pounds heavier, and definitely stronger than she was. So she walked.

“You were going to go charging right in there, weren’t you? You were going to take on six men with a four-shot gun and not a soul to help within twenty miles. You’re more insane than your moose.”

The lecture continued and Emma learned that she was impulsive, irresponsible, and lacking the brains of a chipmunk. She discovered she was too brave to rush in where even fools wouldn’t go, and that she needed a keeper. And then he asked her again how she’d managed to raise his son to manhood without getting either of them killed.

Emma suddenly sat down on a rock beside the brook, put her chin in her fists, and scowled at the water.

Ben loomed over her.

“Are you through yet?” she asked, still not looking at him.

“Not by half.”

“Should I be taking notes?”

Her pack and shotgun fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and the legs standing beside her bent at the knee, bringing an even angrier face within an inch of hers. “You could have gotten killed.”

Emma smiled at him. “That would have solved a lot of your problems.”

He lunged for her and Emma pulled back. He caught her shoulders and followed her down off the rock. Ben was back on top of her, and Emma was starting to get more than a little angry herself. “If you don’t quit manhandling me, I’m gonna make sure you never father another son.”

Completely ignoring her threat, he grabbed her hands pushing against his chest and pinned them over her head with one of his own. Then he took his other hand and gently brushed the hair from her face.

“Emma Sands. Such bravado you show the world. Such a scam artist you are.”

“Get off me.”

He used his knees to spread her legs, and Emma sucked in a surprised breath when she felt him nestle far too intimately between her thighs.

“That was the wrong direction!”

“But the safest, if I want more children.”

“How did you find me?”

“Michael drew me a map.”

“You’re supposed to be getting to know your son, not interfering in my business.”

The gentleness left his face as suddenly as it had appeared. “Someone had to interfere. You were about to let your cannon loose on those men, weren’t you?”

“They were spiking the trees.”

He growled a nasty word.

“If I ever get you near a bar of soap, I’m going to use it to wash out your mouth.”

He suddenly grinned. “You have my permission to try.”

“Are you planning to get off me any time soon?”

He wiggled, settling himself even deeper against her. “I’m rather comfortable.” His grin turned sinister. “You’re nicely padded in all the right places.”

“Get off—”

Emma didn’t finish. His hand was at her mouth again as Ben’s head snapped up and he cocked it to the side, listening.

“They’re walking down the back side of the ridge,” he whispered, his head lowered beside hers as every muscle in his body seemed to double in size.

He didn’t uncover her mouth. Did he think she was going to scream hello to the terrorists? Emma bit down. She was rewarded with a ferocious glare as he rubbed the abused hand on her jacket.

“I’m beginning to pity the poor bastard who ends up marrying you.”

Emma tried to punch him, but he caught her fist, brought it up to his lips, and kissed it. “Don’t spar with me, Emma. I’m bigger and stronger and meaner than you.”

“You also have a bigger ego than God.”

“I need a big one if I want to hold my own against the Sands clan.”

“I’m surprised Michael didn’t draw you a map that would take you to Canada.”

Ben frowned darkly. “Michael’s got his own agenda, and I don’t think either of us will ever fully know what it is. Are you sure Kelly gave birth to him? You didn’t just find him in one of Medicine Creek’s hot springs, bubbled up from hell?”

“I know he’s looking more and more like his father every—”

He shut her up again, but with his mouth this time. Emma gasped at the bolt of heat that suddenly shot through her. She was wet and cold and she couldn’t breathe, but she was also hot and tingly and so very confused.

Fire, of the delicious, feminine kind, flared deep in the pit of her belly. And Emma couldn’t stop herself from kissing him back any more.

This was so dangerous. Her nephew’s father was seducing her, and she hoped he wouldn’t stop. She was setting herself up for a world of heartache, but all she could do was curse the clothes that separated them.

“Slap my face, Emma.”

She took her freed hands and pulled his growling mouth back down to hers.

He kissed her again, opening her mouth with his tongue and taking in the taste of her, giving back his own sweet essence. His weight was no longer crushing, it was welcome. One of his hands began roaming her body, and Emma wiggled to give him easier access.

“Stop me, Em.”

She started doing a little exploring herself. He was so muscled and firm, and the canvas shirt under his jacket unbuttoned easily. The hair covering his chest sprang to life against her fingers, and Emma felt Ben take a deep, shuddering breath.

“Last chance, Emma. Stop me now.”

The bellow of a huge bull moose came echoing down over the ridge, followed by the cracking of branches. Ben threw his head up in surprise. Her own breath suspended, Emma watched as he slowly looked down at her, his expression turning to horror.

Emma pushed him away. “Get off me!”

He scrambled to his feet and turned his back, his hands tugging at the front of his pants.

For a stunned second, Emma lay motionless. Lord, what an idiot she was—she’d nearly let Ben Sinclair seduce her!

Was this what Kelly had felt sixteen years ago? Was this how quickly, how insanely, it had happened?

“I’m … Emma, I’m sorry.”

She didn’t look up at those softly spoken words. “Forget it, Mr. Sinclair.”

He lifted her chin with two gentle but insistent fingers. His face was drawn, but flags of color darkened his cheeks. Leftover passion? Embarrassment? Anger?

“This shouldn’t have happened.”

“Damn right it shouldn’t have.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Certainly not with your upper brain.”

His eyes widened in shock, then he suddenly threw back his head and burst out laughing. He sat down on the ground beside her. “My God. What am I supposed to do with you, Emma Sands?”

“You can go back and get Michael and take him home.”

He instantly sobered. “Now? You want me to take him away right now?”

Her throat closed tight, Emma nodded.

“While you stay out here and hide?”

She lifted her chin. “I am not hiding. Michael can call me once he gets settled.”