Without a word, I wrap one arm firmly around Sloane’s waist and help her walk from the woods.

Her body sags in my hold, and she walks stiffly, like she’s sleepwalking or something. My heart aches with what I know must be going through her head.

Tucker has the bald thief tossed easily over his shoulder, the man’s arms dangling limp toward the forest floor and rocking with every step. I try not to stare at him, fury brewing inside of me like a tumultuous storm, but all I can think about is his hands raking roughly over the beautiful woman at my side—my beautiful woman.

I can feel her shaking as she presses to me, letting me guide her over the broken stumps and arched roots. She blinks, but I’m not sure she’s even seeing what’s in front of her.

The other man is awake now, though still dazed from the good punch I gave him. Piotr has tied his wrists together with one of the bull’s ropes, keeping the thief from escaping into the trees as he’s led forward.

We all walk in silence, grateful that the thieves have been apprehended but disturbed by the tiring events of the night.

“Dane,” I say quietly. “Run ahead and call the sheriff.”

He gives a sharp nod and takes off, darting easily through the night toward the dimly lit house.

Sloane’s cheek falls against my shoulder, one of her lithe arms wrapping around my waist. I stop walking, letting the others get farther ahead.

“Are you all right?” I ask, hating the question.

I just don’t know what else to say. I never seem to know the right things to say.

A few long seconds tick by before she seems to hear my question at all.

“No,” she answers honestly, swiping at her red-rimmed eyes. When she shakes her head, hair tumbles over her shoulders, and I notice there are small twigs and leaves clinging to the silky locks. “But I will be. In time.”

I can only nod, smoothing one hand over her cheek and then gently tucking a stray tangle of blond hair behind her ear. She turns her face slightly, pressing warm lips into my palm as I slip my other arm around her and draw her up against me. Her heart beats rapidly against my chest.

“I just keep thinking about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t come out here,” she murmurs. “You could’ve been hurt. You could’ve . . .” She trails off, and her body shudders in my arms. “It could’ve just been so much worse.”

I hug her tighter against me, as though I can protect her—even from her own thoughts. It’s so like Sloane to only be thinking of me when it was her that was truly in danger tonight. When I looked over and saw that man on top of her, his grubby hands clawing at her clothes, it was like a bomb suddenly burst inside of me. All I could think of was getting to her, of getting her away from him.

As long as Sloane is always okay, it doesn’t matter what happens to me. I can take anything at all . . . except seeing her hurt.

I can’t read her eyes, but I feel her inspecting me. It always feels like that, like she can just look in my direction and see every little thought passing through my head.

I can’t decide if I like it or hate it, but if someone has to be able to read me like a book, I’m glad it’s Sloane.

“But you did come out here, didn’t you?” I chuckle dryly, my fingers stroking up and down the length of her delicate back.

She sighs slightly, closing her eyes, letting my touch wash away the other man’s.

“You saw me creeping like a panther through the night, and you decided you just had to come all the way out here and snoop on me.” I continue with a faint smirk. “Such a city girl way of thinking. I could’ve been tracking a bear for all you know.”

She straightens back up but stays in my arms. I want to kiss her, but now’s not the time.

“It was a feeling.” She shrugs. “I knew something was wrong. I knew I had to come out here and see what was happening.”

“Yeah, like how you felt you just had to come out to this ranch from school?” I smirk, but she nods sincerely, and my heart does a little somersault.

“Exactly,” she murmurs, stepping forward and closing the distance between us.

Her feet rest in between mine, her hands splaying over my chest.

“Exactly,” she repeats, gazing up at me.

Heat rises between us. I press my forehead to hers and close my eyes, inhaling long. I mull over what to say to her but can’t decide. Instead, I press my mouth against hers, wishing for all the world that I could take us back in time to before that bald thief threw himself at her.

“Cord!” Daniel calls in that gruff, commanding voice of his. “I need you to stand guard at the stable for a minute. Monty can never find the damn driveway, and lord knows he’ll forget his glasses again.”

My foreman continues grumbling under his breath as I take a hesitant step back from Sloane. She raises her arm and gestures toward the stable.

“I’ll be fine,” she promises me, and I know that to be true. Even still, I don’t want to leave her alone.

Not now. Not when she’s been through so much.

“Go on.” Sloane sets her hands on her hips, suddenly all business. “My uncle needs you.”

I sweep my arms around her waist, dragging her one more time into a quick embrace, letting my lips press a chaste kiss on her own. Her mouth is so soft and inviting that I have to struggle to pull away, especially when she fits so perfectly in my arms and her fingertips slip tenderly over my jaw.

I am just so damn grateful that she’s all right, and I’m just so damn angry that any other man dared lay a finger on her.

“I don’t want you anywhere near that stable,” I say softly. “But Sheriff DuBois is going to need a statement from you. Go into the house and have some coffee. Jameson will’ve made some—he can’t help himself. He drinks more coffee than water. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

To my surprise, Sloane agrees without a single word of argument. It’s not like her not to bicker just for the sake of bickering. I watch as she walks over the grass, through the yellow light spilling out onto the lawn, and into the house. Her shoulders hunch forward slightly, like she’s carrying a heavy weight.

My gaze swings back to the stable, where the cattle thieves are locked away.

Swallowing the thick, dry lump in my throat, I storm over to the door and hurl it open. It swings, smacking loudly into the wall. Crumpet and the rest of the horses look up sharply, shifting nervously in their stalls. They’re already uncomfortable with the two foul-smelling strangers tied up to the post in the middle of the walkway.

“You,” I whisper bitterly, lurching toward the bald man.

Only just woken, he gazes up as though he doesn’t recognize me, blood dripping from the corner of his lip. He doesn’t answer, though the other man is looking on nervously, his face an ashy pallor and his mouth quivering like a little boy who’s just pissed himself out of fear. They both smell of stale beer, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

“You know, I could forgive you for being dirty, low-life thieves. I don’t care about that now that you’ve been caught,” I hiss, blinking away the red fury that glows in front of my eyes. My whole body seethes, like I’m a volcano about to erupt. “But I can’t forgive you for what you did to Sloane.”

“Sloane?” Baldie echoes dully. “What? Is that the beast?”

“No, Sloane is not the bull you tried, and failed, to steal. Sloane is the kind, caring, spirited woman who you . . . you pinned on the ground, who you tried to strip naked on that dirty forest floor, who will probably have nightmares about your slimy fingers all over her.”

Still dazed and probably drunk, the man laughs. “You feel that way ‘bout a damn cow?”

I crouch down, my fingers snaking around the collar of his shirt. “You son of a bitch, I’ll give you something to laugh about!” I snarl as the stable door opens again.

“Cord, leave him,” Dane says gently. “I know you want to murder him. Believe me, I do too, but the sheriff is here, and he expects both these asses alive.”

My body shakes, and the thought of leaving this building without bloodying the asshole’s face is almost inconceivable. He deserves so much worse than a good beating. They both do.

“Sloane is waiting,” Dane continues. “She needs you. Let me and the sheriff deal with this.”

Sloane.

Swallowing, I drop the bald man’s collar, and he presses himself tight against the pole, avoiding my eyes.

Dane’s right. I have to get back to Sloane’s side.

She needs me, and I need her.

There’s no more time to be tentative about how I feel about her, about how badly I want her to stay with me.

I can’t wait any longer to make her mine, to claim her as my own.