“Aye,” Daar agreed, the headlights illuminating his wave from the porch rail. “I’ll be right here when Robbie arrives.”

Winter opened her door and waited, only to frown when Matt didn’t lift her in. She turned to find him standing behind her, his hands on his hips, smiling.

“It’s no fun when you’re expecting it,” he said.

Winter rolled her eyes with a laugh, stepped on the running board, and climbed in the truck.

Matt softly closed the door and walked around the front, stopping when Daar said something to him that she couldn’t hear. They exchanged words, then Matt finally climbed in behind the wheel.

“What did he say to you?”

He shrugged and started the engine. “Just another friendly warning,” he told her, putting the truck in gear and slowly easing out of the clearing and back onto the steep path. He darted a quick glance at her. “That if I value my life, I might want to find another lass to charm.”

“Oh, no,” Winter muttered, covering her face with her hands and shaking her head.

“He also kindly explained that your father is even more protective of you than your cousin, and that getting on the wrong side of Greylen MacKeage was tantamount to suicide.” Matt brushed back her hair and pulled one hand from her face, exposing one of her eyes so she could see his smile. “He also suggested I spend more time praying and less time pursuing a woman destined for the convent.”

Winter did groan then, quite loudly, and covered her face again as they bumped their way down the mountain.

“I’m beginning to realize why you aren’t already married. How many boyfriends have your army of protectors scared off?”

“Dozens,” she muttered before lowering her hands to smile at him. “That I know of. That’s not counting the guys who never even dared to ask me out.”

Matt kept his attention on the path ahead. “Well, Miss MacKeage, your army has just come up against a man who doesn’t scare easily.” He braked to a stop and looked at her. “Do you?”

Chapter Nine

“T he only thing that scares me,” Winter said softly, watching his face in the dash lights, “is not being able to tell if what I’m feeling is real or just my imagination.”

“You’re not imagining me, Winter MacKeage. I assure you, I’m very real.”

Winter clasped her hands on her lap and stared out the windshield. “Then that does scare me,”

she whispered.

He said nothing to that, but sat with his own hands loosely holding the steering wheel as he also stared out the windshield. Then, still without saying anything, he finally began easing the truck down the rutted trail again, the stark, pregnant silence inside the cab making Winter’s heart pound with dread.

Had she just blown it? Had she finally managed to do what Robbie and Father Daar hadn’t been able to? Had she just scared off Matt by letting him know she was attracted to him?

She knew better! She knew men didn’t like being chased by infatuated, starry-eyed women; they wanted to be the pursuer. Men were like bears: run from them and they would go after their prey without questioning why, but stand firm and make a lot of noise and they’d just as likely turn tail and run.

Matt had been enjoying pursuing her, giving chase by buying her paintings, commissioning her time, even kissing her on his own terms. But she had just told him she liked him so much it scared her, and now he was suddenly rethinking his intentions toward her.

Aye, she’d blown it big time.

The sound of the bushes scraping the truck grated on Winter’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. She had met Matt only yesterday, yet in that short time she’d experienced a whole roller coaster of emotions. She’d gotten angry at both him and herself, been intrigued, infatuated, charmed, and quite wonderfully kissed. Maybe she really should join a convent; it had to be easier than maneuvering through this quagmire of feminine awareness.

But curses, running away wasn’t the solution, either. Hadn’t her parents always taught her to follow her heart? Well, despite what her mind was all but screaming, Winter’s heart was telling her that Matheson Gregor was one man worth making a fool of herself over.

So what the heck, she suddenly decided with a determined lift of her chin, she might as well begin as she intended to go on. And if Matt Gregor couldn’t handle her own intentions, it was his loss!

“If you want to really feel the mountain,” she said into the silence, “the best time is when a storm is moving in.”

He stopped the truck, put it in neutral, and looked at her.

“There’s a sheltered bluff not a hundred yards away, where we could feel the mountain breathing.”

He shut off the engine and then the headlights, plunging them into absolute darkness. Winter twined her fingers together, both dreading and hoping he’d say something—anything—to put her out of her misery.

She flinched when his large hand covered hers, stilling her action. “I finally understand your family,” he said through the darkness. “You really do need looking after, don’t you? You’ve put yourself on a mountain in the middle of nowhere, with someone you’ve just met, and now you’re offering to take a walk in the woods with a complete stranger who outweighs you by at least a hundred pounds.”

She pulled her hands from his and crossed her arms under her breasts. Okay, so maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. Whether Matt was angry or amused by her not-so-subtle offer, he was definitely surprised. She sensed him leaning back on his side of the truck, and could just make out his own arms folded over his chest as her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.

“What about that cat I saw?” he asked after a long silence.

“He’ll smell us before we see him and will keep his distance,” she said in a near whisper, profoundly thankful the darkness was hiding her scorching red cheeks. “Lynx are curious, but they’re not aggressive.”

Matt suddenly moved, causing Winter to flinch again when he opened his door and flooded the interior of the truck with light. He climbed out, then turned and started rummaging under his seat, his hand finally emerging with a flashlight and tiny case.

“W-what’s that?” Winter asked, beginning to worry she was about to get more than she’d wished for.

He set the flashlight on the seat and unzipped the case. “A pistol,” he said, taking the automatic out and tucking it in his jacket pocket.

“No,” Winter said harshly. “You don’t need a gun.”

About to pick up the flashlight, he looked at her. “It’s just a precaution,” he assured her. “We’

re in the woods, it’s nighttime, and I don’t care for surprises.”

She shook her head. “I’m not leaving this truck if you bring that gun,” she said, thinking about Gesader’s penchant for lurking in the bushes. “There’s nothing in the woods that isn’t more afraid of us than we are of it.”

He frowned at her, studying her face. “You’re serious,” he finally said. “Do guns bother you, Winter? You seemed concerned this afternoon when I told Tom I had one rolled in my jacket.”

“Guns don’t bother me when they’re necessary,” she said, shaking her head again. “But you don’t need one now.” She unfastened her seat belt and turned to face him, leaning on the console and pointing at the flashlight. “We don’t need a gun or a light,” she told him. “Our eyes will adjust to the darkness, and we won’t be more than a hundred yards away from the safety of the truck.”

He hesitated, then finally reached in his pocket, pulled out the pistol, and slipped it back in its case. He put the case under the seat and softly closed his door without picking up the flashlight, then walked around the truck to open her door, and reached inside for her hand.

It took Winter a full minute to set her hand in his and slip out of the truck.

“Stand there a minute,” he said, opening the back door and reaching under the seat, once more bringing on the cab lights. At this rate, Winter feared their eyes were going to be so confused they’d never adjust.