Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(28)

“And the judge and jury knew that he was a sexual predator, too?”

“Yes, it all came out at the trial.” Shaking her head, Shiloh said, “I don’t know how I got through it all. If I hadn’t had my aunt Lynn . . .”

Roan could not imagine any child that age having to do what was asked of her. A new respect flowed through him for Shiloh. She might look young and beautiful, her face unmarred by life, but the tragic wounds she carried were still inside her. The loads she carried . . . The guilt . . . The grief...

Unconsciously, he moved his hand across her tight shoulders, trying to assuage some of the tension he felt beneath his gloved fingers. “You did the right thing for the right reasons, Shiloh. You know that now, don’t you?” he asked, pinning her with a searching look, holding her marred green eyes. Tears were leaking down her cheeks, falling into the corners of her beautiful mouth. A mouth he wanted to cover, to kiss. Roan knew he could give back to this woman who had so much taken away from her. He also realized that her trust with men in general was more than likely broken. And he was a man. He monitored his touch across her shoulders. She hadn’t pulled away or made any movement to suggest she didn’t want him touching her.

“Y-yes, I know I did the right thing.” And then her face scrunched up and she buried it in her hands. “But it got my mother killed,” she said, and she sobbed, broken over what she’d done.

Oh, hell!

Roan couldn’t stop himself and he rasped, “Come here, Shiloh . . .” and gathered her up in his arms, pulling her against him. She came without fighting him, huddled, face in her hands as she turned her cheek against his chest. He couldn’t stand a woman’s or child’s tears. It was the one thing that he had no defense against. Never had. Shiloh was quivering like an animal caught in an invisible trap that held her in place and she couldn’t escape it. He smoothed her hair with his hand, holding her tight against himself, wanting to will away her pain because she sure as hell didn’t deserve to be carrying it.

Roan knew how impressionable children were. They were wide open, innocent, without anything written on their hearts and minds. His father and mother had been good parents. Roan knew from experience what parents were supposed to do to protect their children, teach them to be confident and strong, allow them to make mistakes, grow and learn from them.

Shiloh’s young life wasn’t anything like his had been. As Roan held her, she sobbed softly into her hands, her whole body shaking. He closed his eyes, resting his jaw against her head, the strands of her hair tickling his chin. Gently, he smoothed his glove up and down her strong, supple spine. She might look soft but Roan had a whole new perspective on her: She was steel strong inwardly. She had to be in order to survive. He simply couldn’t imagine a trial of that magnitude with a scared little girl at the center of it. Her testimony put Leath away. The strength that took shook Roan as little else would. Shiloh was strong because life had tested her long and early. Amazed, he began to see her in a completely new light. No longer was he going to think of her as a city slicker. As an Easterner. Those labels carried certain assumptions that really didn’t apply to Shiloh.

He unconsciously pressed a kiss to her hair, murmuring low, gruff words meant to heal her, help her. As his gloved hand came to rest on her wet cheek, he gently removed her hands from where she was hiding her face. She made a little sound of desperation, as if ashamed, turning her face more deeply into his chest. His blue chambray shirt was splotched with her tears and he could feel the warmth of them against his flesh beneath the material. Mouth tightening, he cupped her cheek, allowing her to hide beneath his large hand, trying to give her solace. Or maybe, give her some of his strength to get through this storm of agony.

Roan didn’t know how long he held Shiloh in his arms. She finally quit weeping. And gradually, that fine quiver within her dissolved too. As the birds sang and flew around them, the scent of her hair and skin tantalizing him, he looked out over the verdant valley.

The horses were calm, resting, one rear leg cocked. The sky was a darker blue as the sun rose higher. The breeze no longer held a cold edge to it as it lifted strands of Shiloh’s red hair here and there. He felt her breasts pressed to the wall of his chest, noticed how soft and rounded they were. He could feel himself responding, growing hard with yearning. And he forced himself to stop responding to her.

Just how broken was Shiloh’s trust in men? Did she see some or all men in her stepfather? How much damage had he done to her? And did she view Roan through that toxic, stained lens of her life? Lumping him with all men? This was a minefield Roan had never anticipated. He thought she was just a romance writer. Writing frilly stuff that had no value, really. And her real life was a friggin’ ongoing nightmare. He wondered how she could create anything under that kind of pressure. It once more served to tell Roan just how resilient Shiloh really was. He had to stop seeing her as a helpless, ignorant Easterner.

His mind ranged over her nightmare the other night in the house. Was it about that time in her young life? Roan wasn’t sure. But he’d find out and he didn’t look too closely at why he wanted to know.

Gradually, her breathing went from ragged to slow and deep. Shiloh had innocently placed the palm of her hand over his heart. Her touch felt good. And he wanted to make love to her even more than before. There was depth to Shiloh. Roan knew bad experiences honed and shaped people’s emotions and lives. And as soft as she felt in his arms, all curves in the right places, her femininity, she was a survivor. That appealed to Roan more than anything else. He’d lived as an operator and knew life-and-death up front and close. Knew how it had shaped him, changed him, made him strong in ways most people would never be. And he knew internal strength was the most important power to have because it kept a person moving forward in the worst of times.