Ride The Wild Wind (Time Travel Historical Romance) by Kimberly Ivey

snorted at that thought. She
was about as helpless as a bear!
    Besides, why did
he care what happened? She obviously didn’t want his help. And he had no time
for delay. In Canyon Bonito, Navajo children starved because soldiers had
destroyed food stores and crops. His thoughts turned to his own son,
Lukachukai. H e wondered if the child had gone hungry in the weeks since
he had been away. No, he could not afford to give this woman priority, not when
so many other lives hung in a delicate balance between life and death.  He
would send help once he reached Albuquerque.
    He swung up onto
Dinishwo and the horse pranced excitedly beneath his weight.
    “Oh, for Pete’s
sake, I’m sorry.” Her tiny voice threatened to crumble his steely resolve. “I
overreacted. I thought you were going to rape me.”
    “Rape you?” He
gaped at her. Did she truly think him capable of such a heinous act? He was no
abuser of women.
     “Oh freaking
great. Now I’ve hurt your feelings.”
    Feelings had nothing to do with her accusation. She had insulted his honor and integrity. All he had
done since he found her was care for her. He pursed his lips together to
prevent from lashing out.
    “Hey, don’t sulk,
okay? Try to see this from my point of view. When I woke up, my clothes were
gone and you were naked, too. Seriously, what would you have me think? We were
going to bake cookies? Have a knitting lesson?”
    He sighed, dared a
sidelong glance at her. She did have a defensible point. Perhaps he had
been too harsh. “Someone hurt you in the past?” he inquired.
    She was silent a
moment, then shook her head slowly. “No one’s hurt me, at least not since I
wised up and realized that people can’t be trusted.”
    Her bitter tone
tugged at his heart. She bore the same haunted expression he saw in his son’s
eyes—that of a child betrayed. He glanced away, fearing if he didn’t he might
take her in his arms.  Such might be a mistake. First, he needed to know
more about her and if she truly was the woman from his dreams.
    “Look, I panicked.
I’m sorry I punched you. I really don’t think you’re the type of person who
would take advantage of someone in my condition. You stayed with me last night
and put me near a fire for protection. You washed my clothes. If you were a
psychopath, you would have already carved me into a carnivore party platter or
had your wicked way with me, right?”
    He stared. What
unusual words she used. He had never heard such. What was a sike-o-path and
a…party platter?
    “Please don’t go.
I need your help. I think I have a really high fever.”
    Antonio knew he
would never forgive himself if he left her unable to fend for herself. His abuelo —grandfather—made
him swear an oath to care for the sick and dying to the best of his ability.
Would he break a vow now? To do so would dishonor the man’s memory, and every
good and decent thing he had stood for.
    Damn it all to
hell. He thrust a hand through his hair as he pondered the situation. A few
minutes in the stream might bring the fever down enough to allow her body time
to fight for strength. And a night’s rest after a meal of warm food would also
sustain her.
    He swung down from
the bay. “I must put you in the water again.”
    Her eyes were wide
and filled with apprehension. Slowly, she nodded. “Okay.”
    He turned his back
and began removing his clothes. “We are going to do this my way,” he called
over his shoulder. ”But if you strike me again I will tie your hands. Do you
understand?”
    “Got it.”
    Once he finished undressing,
he knelt beside her, tossed her clothing aside, and lifted her, drawing her
nude, fevered form against his. He waded into the shallow stream. Suddenly he
grew all too aware of the naked young woman in his arms and he silently cursed
his body’s unwelcome response. She was ill, and had trusted him to nurse her in
her infirmity. She had done nothing to warrant his reaction and he hoped she
did not notice.