"Colt?"
She didn't bother to whisper this time. If he had gone back inside to await her in the hall as he'd said, she was going to be quite annoyed with him, regard-less that he had just — what? Saved her again? She didn't really know what he had done, and wouldn't know until—
She jumped, his hand appeared so suddenly. So he had been there all along — and heard her. Now was not the time to upbraid him for making her wait while he decided whether to lend her a hand or not. In fact, she couldn't afford to upbraid him for anything, not unless she was willing to give him an excuse to quit, which she wasn't. And besides, she had already known how lacking he was in gentlemanly tenden-cies. Far be it for her to expect him to change his habits now just because she was trembling with cold and loath to show herself in a well-lit hotel lobby half dressed.
She returned his gun first, which he quickly hol-stered before extending his hand again. The problem now was that she couldn't quite reach his fingers, even up on tiptoe. She started to tell.him so, but she had a feeling this was the most she could hope for, that he wasn't going to lower that hand another inch, even if he could. For whatever reason, he didn't want to help her back up onto that roof, but she was more determined than he was.
She made it on the first leap, her fingers locking with his. But her feet went swaying through the air, and her fingers started to slip. She was about to cry out, anticipating a hard landing on her backside, when she was jerked up a bit so his other hand could grasp her wrist.
Dangling by only one arm sent pain shooting through her shoulder socket, but she was up and sit-ting on the edge of the roof so fast, there was no time to moan about it. Under the circumstances, however, she didn't feel inclined to thank her so-called savior, especially when an insistent tug forced her immediately to her feet.
Again she was about to upbraid him, scathingly this time, when his curt "Come on, dammit" made her grit her teeth instead and follow him up the slight incline to her window.
Here was another unexpected problem. Her hands, raised high, only just reached the window ledge, and she knew without a doubt that with what her arms had already been through, there was no way she could hoist herself up through that window.
She was loath to ask, but there was no help for it. "Could you please accommodate me once more with a boost up?"
She couldn't see his eyes moving down her body to the likely place he would have to touch to shove her through the window. His manhood, already half aroused just from his standing this close to her, came to full attention. There was no way in hell he could put his hands on her body and not do more than that.
Nor did he think he could bend down close to her legs to offer her foot the cradle of his hands and not break his control. Enough was enough.
"Not on your life, Duchess," he answered sharply and with finality.
Jocelyn's own control snapped at that point. "Well, I'm sorry, but I just can't do it myself. My arms hurt, I'm freezing, I'm tired… do you think I went flee-ing out my window and over the roof for the fun of it?"
"It's the middle of the damn night, woman. Who the hell is up and about at this hour?"
"You were," she replied stiffly. "And those gen-tlemen who stole into my room were. And who is to say there aren't more of them waiting below in the lobby?"
That was a damn good point, but he still wasn't going to put his hands anywhere near that luscious backside of hers. "All right, move over," he con-ceded with ill grace and vaulted through the window.
This was exactly what Colt had wanted to avoid, being in her room again, being there with her — alone.
He used to think there was nothing he couldn't withstand, no pain, no torture, no temptation — until he met her. Christ, even that sadistic bullwhacker Ram-say hadn't been able to break him. But this one little redhead was coming damn close without even trying. And he couldn't even fault her for it. No, he knew exactly where the blame lay — inside his pants.
Lust was making a mockery out of his will, and lacerating his pride and self-esteem to shreds. But it wasn't something that had ever taken control of him before, so he didn't know how to deal with it. All he knew was that he wanted this woman more than he had ever wanted anything before. And each time he saw her, his need seemed to escalate. It was enough to make a man want to cut his own throat.
With self-disgust, he grasped her hands and yanked her up onto the windowsill, far enough into the room for her to be able to climb the rest of the way inside by herself. He then turned on his heel and headed for the door, determined to be out of that room before she was fully into it. But she obviously objected to being left dangling half in and half out.
"Colt!" she wailed.
He didn't stop. "If I touch you again, Duchess, you're going to damn well regret it."
"Just because you manage this with no effort at all doesn't mean. oh, never mind!"
Jocelyn lowered the top half of her body until her weight tumbled her forward into the room, ignomin-iously, she realized, as her legs crashed in behind her and flopped down on the floor. But she wasted not a second in correcting her graceless entry and shot to her feet. Nor did it calm her temper to see that he hadn't been watching. It was in fact the last straw to see him reaching for the door handle.
"You are the most surly, misbegotten. Good Lord!" she amended when the shambles of her room caught her attention. "What the devil happened here? Did they think I was hiding in one of the trunks?"
That stopped him. It was a safe enough subject, and she had a right to know. And he did have the distance of the entire room between them. Still, he didn't want to take the risk of looking at her now that she was no longer cloaked in shadows. The mess she was staring at drew his eyes as well, as if he hadn't already seen it.
"They weren't looking for you, Duchess."
"Of course they were. Longnose is the only one-"
"Not this time. Your Longnose hasn't caught up with us yet. I'll know it when he does."
She didn't doubt his certainty, not when she knew he had spent every day on the trail scouting wide circles around them. "Then who were they?"
"A couple of thieves, likely local boys. That guard at your door was probably the lure. Nine times out of ten, if a man sees a room that needs more security than lock and key, he's going to assume there's something worth stealing inside it."
Her eyes flew to him as she remembered the loud thud she had heard in the hall. "Robbie? Is — is he…
?"
She couldn't finish, afraid the reason that Colt wouldn't look at her was because the big Scot was dead.
But he disabused her of that notion, though he still didn't glance her way. He stooped to pick up a scrap of silk at his feet, staring at the thin blue ribbon in his hand as if it were the most amazing thing he had ever seen.
"Your man was hit from behind. He'll have a hell-uva headache to show for his carelessness in the morning, but that's about all. It's my guess one of them distracted him long enough for the other to take him out. It's a strategy that works well against a single man."
"And the two brigands?"
"You want the gory details?"
"Colt!"
She had blanched, though he didn't see it. It was her silence after that aggrieved cry that made him relent.
"They got the same as they gave, no more. But I cut up one of your petticoats to truss them with before dumping them out in the hall to keep your Robbie company. Didn't think you'd mind. They're not likely to stir before morning, but you'll need a replacement to guard your door anyway, so he can keep an eye on them as well until they can be turned over to the sheriff." There was a long pause before he added, "You should have had more protection."