"Eden," Nevada said roughly, unable to bear watching her an instant longer. "Eden, stop!"

If she heard, she ignored him. A ragged sound was dragged from her throat as she strained to straighten her body, and in doing so force the boulder aside just a little, her muscles straining, just a few fractions of an inch – her body screaming – just enough for Nevada's foot to slide free of the rocky vise – her vision blurring and her breath burning in her chest until she sobbed.

The boulder grated as it shifted minutely.

It was all Nevada had been waiting for and more than he had thought possible. He shoved hard with his free leg against the boulder and at the same time yanked his trapped leg backward, ignoring the pain that shot through his ankle. After a few agonizing seconds his foot wrenched free of the boot and the rocky vise.

"I'm out!"

Instantly Eden let go of the branch and sank to her knees, breathing in great gulps, trying to get enough oxygen to keep the world from receding down an endless black tunnel. When she finally succeeded, she realized that Nevada was kneeling next to her, his arms around her, supporting her. With a broken sigh she leaned against his strength.

"Sorry about the boot," Eden said when she had enough breath to spare for words.

"Never fit right anyway. Too big. Damn good thing, too."

Nevada leaned to the side, snagged Eden's jacket with one hand and began stuffing her into it. When he was finished, he caught her face between his big hands.

"Do you hurt anywhere?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Don't ever do anything that stupid again. You can tear yourself up inside and never know until it's too late," Nevada said savagely. Then, before she could say anything, he asked, "Can you walk to the cabin?"

Eden nodded.

"Get going," he said. "You're sweaty. Don't stop to rest until you're in dry clothes."

"But-"

"Move."

"What about you?" Eden persisted.

"I can take care of myself."

As he spoke, Nevada automatically wiped snow off the rifle, checked the load and the firing mechanism. Satisfied that everything was in working order, he used the butt of the rifle to lever himself to his feet. Circulation was returning to his left foot, but slowly. With the renewed flowing of blood came excruciating pain. Nevada ignored it. Using the rifle as a makeshift crutch, he took a step forward.

And fell full-length in the snow.

Even as Nevada rolled onto his side to lever himself upright again, Eden spoke quickly to Baby. The wolf hit Nevada squarely in the chest, knocked him back into the snow and put one very large paw on his chest. Nevada realized instantly that he wasn't going to get up again without fighting Baby. The prospect wasn't inviting.

Eden bent over Nevada, survival blanket in hand. "Wrap up. I'll be back with the horses as soon as possible."

Before she could straighten again, Nevada's hand flashed out and snared her wrist in an immovable grip. His eyes were as cold and bleak as his voice.

"Baby or no Baby, you damn well better be in dry clothes when I see you again, lady."

4

When Eden returned leading the Appaloosa and the packhorse, she found Baby sitting next to Nevada. The animal's black paw was on the man's forearm. Yellow wolf's eyes stared into equally untamed silver-green ones. Neither one looked up when she walked in.

Eden had the distinct feeling that both males were enjoying measuring each other.

A single word called Baby off guard duty. He removed his big paw, stretched and waved his tail at Nevada in a silent offering of truce. Gravely Nevada took off his glove and held out his hand. Baby sniffed, ducked his head and offered it to be scratched.

"You're all bluff, aren't you, Baby?" Nevada asked.

A huge, gleaming wolf's grin was Baby's answer.

"Impressive. Who's your dentist?" Eden smiled despite herself. She was still smiling when Nevada's head turned and his pale green glance raked over her, taking in every detail of her appearance. Suddenly she was very grateful the horses had continued to drift in the direction of her cabin. Otherwise she wouldn't have taken the time to change into dry clothes before coming back to Nevada. Then she would have had to explain to him why it had been more important to get back to him quickly than it had been to find dry clothes for herself. She doubted that he would have found her arguments convincing.

Nevada folded the survival blanket, stuffed it in his jacket pocket and levered himself into a standing position.

"How's your foot?" Eden asked finally.

"It's there."

"I can see that," she muttered, leading the Appaloosa closer. "Does it hurt? Do you have any feeling in it? Is it frostbitten?"

"Are you cold?" he asked, ignoring her questions.

"Damn it, Nevada, I'm not the one who's hurt!"

"Neither am I. Guess that means we're both fine. Take it easy, you knothead."

At first Eden thought Nevada was referring to her. Then she realized he was talking to the spotted horse, which had shied when Nevada came awkwardly to his feet. That was the end of Nevada's awkwardness, however. He grabbed the saddle horn and vaulted into the saddle with catlike ease.

"Hand me my rifle."

For a moment Eden was too stunned to say anything. Nevada was going to ride off into the storm without so much as a thank-you. She could handle the lack of gratitude. What made her furious was the knowledge that he wasn't nearly as "fine" as he said he was. His face was too pale and she was afraid the stain of red over his cheekbones owed more to fever than windburn. But apparently Nevada was angry about being guarded by Baby, or too proud to admit he needed anything more from her, or both.

Eden handed the rifle up to Nevada, shrugged into her backpack and walked off up the trail toward the cabin without a word, too furious to trust herself to speak. Her short temper shocked her. Normally she was the last one to lose control – but normally she wouldn't have spent the last hour digging a man out of a hole before he froze to death. And not just any man. A man she had taken one look at and gone to with the absolute certainty of water running downhill to the waiting sea.

A man who thought love was a fairy tale.

A spotted flank materialized from the snowstorm in front of Eden. The Appaloosa was standing across the trail, blocking her way. At an unseen signal from Nevada, the horse turned toward her and then stood motionless once more. Nevada kicked his stockinged foot out of the left stirrup and leaned toward Eden, holding out his left arm.

"Climb on."

"I've never ridden," she said tightly.

"I've never had a wolf sicced on me. Learn something new every day."

"I didn't sic-"

"The hell you didn't. Grab hold of me."

Eden was never sure what happened next. All she knew was that the world swung suddenly, crazily. When things settled into place again she was behind the saddle, hanging on to Nevada with both hands, for he had become the stable center of an otherwise highly mobile world.

"Well you've got the first part right," Nevada said dryly.

"What?"

"You're hanging on."

She started to speak, only to make a high, startled sound when the horse moved. Target snorted and sidestepped lightly.

"Go easy on the screaming," Nevada said. "Target is skittish. That's how we got into trouble in the first place."

"You screamed?" she retorted.

Nevada turned around enough to look at Eden. His narrowed eyes gleamed like gems between his thick black eyelashes, but she would have sworn his look was one of amusement rather than anger. She decided that she liked that particular gleam in his eyes much better than the icy distance that was his normal response to the world.