Susan Fox - To Tame a Bride

Her attention had fixed on the low, calm sound of his voice. The unexpected comfort of his masculine drawl slid along her ragged nerves and steadied them somehow. The strange reaction set off a small shock wave that made her turn her head weakly against the seat back to look at him.

Lincoln Coryell was handsome, ruggedly so. His broad-shouldered, six-foot-four frame seemed to fill the cabin of the small plane, making it seem even more crowded. His arm and side were inches away, but she felt the heat of him from where she sat. Pleasant heat. Male heat.

The pang of guilt she felt surprised her until she let herself acknowledge its source.

Beau Duvall. She’d loved Beau deeply. She still loved him. He’d been handsome, so beautifully handsome. Love of life had blazed so painfully bright in his blue eyes, in his tanned face, in everything he said and did and wanted in life. He’d been so much fun, teasing, irreverent and daring.

Maddie had been so repressed, so unloved, so unlovely back then that when such a handsome, vitally alive and exciting young man had paid the slightest attention to her, she’d fallen wildly and hopelessly in love, dismally aware that handsome Beau Duvall could never love her.

But then he had. The miracle of it still awed her, still gave her hungry heart some vital bit of sustenance, though Beau was long dead now. Beau’s affection for her had been like a fairy tale come true. He’d made her feel wanted, special; he’d made her feel beautiful, somehow bringing about her astonishing transformation from duckling to swan...

Line turned his head to look at her. Though she was remembering Beau, she’d been staring at Line. He said something and her blurry gaze fell to his lips. They were so well-defined, with a masculine sort of ruthlessness that made her heart flutter lightly despite her misery.

Linc’s face was tanned and harshly chiseled, but brutally attractive in the way of rugged Western men who spent their days in the elements working with dangerous animals.

Dangerous. Yes, she realized, her mind still fuzzy. Dangerous was the word for the way Lincoln Coryell looked. Tough was also part of the package, but he was one hundred percent domineering Texas male, from the crown of his Stetson to the underslung heels of his Western boots.

Nothing at all like the much less harsh, far more gentle and sweet Beau. Never like Beau.

So why this peculiar stirring with Line, why this sudden fascination with a man too hard-edged and blatantly male for her refined tastes?

Madison turned her head so she wouldn’t have to look at him. She felt so horribly ill. Surely these wild impressions and startling reactions were part of being in such utter physical misery.

The abrupt jolt of the small plane setting down made her jerk with surprise. Relief flooded her as she realized they’d landed, and Line was taxiing off the runway to the tarmac next to a hangar. Her head was still swimming after he brought the plane to a halt and switched off the engine. She was so nauseous that she didn’t dare move. Her eyelids sagged closed as she waited for her stomach to settle.

“Did you eat something today?”

The gruff question sent a sting of irritation across her jittery nerves. The nausea surged up for a moment before it began to recede.

Her soft, “Of course,” was a lie. Admitting that she’d been too nervous to eat would reveal a weakness to him that she considered far worse than being airsick.

“You can get a sandwich at the café over there. I’ll meet you when the plane’s refueled.”

Maddie didn’t respond until he touched her arm. The earthquake he set off shook her. She roused herself and sat up straighter.

“Come on, Princess. Let’s get you outta here.”

The gruff words were her only warning before she found herself forcibly ejected from her seat. Panicked, she grabbed her handbag and tried to get out of the plane under her own power. But her arms and legs were clumsy, and her head was whirling.

Linc took over as if she weighed no more than an awkward piece of luggage. He was like some gigantic warm wave, sweeping her small body along ahead of his until he set her on her feet behind the plane’s wing.

The bones in her legs were as substantial as cooked noodles, and she swayed against him, clinging to his lean waist as best she could while she tried to recover her strength. The feel of Linc’s hard, well-defined masculinity sobered her, but a new kind of weakness spread through her and slowed her recovery.

“Should I get out the smelling salts...or are you makin’ a pass at me?”

It took a moment for Linc’s drawled words to penetrate.

Or are you makin’ a pass at me? The idea appalled her. It was amazing how suddenly her legs steadied and she was able to push him away.

“God forbid.” The caustic words slipped out before she considered how sharply they might land on a male ego. Most male egos were pathetically fragile. Normally, she didn’t care whether she trampled one or not, but she needed Linc’s goodwill.

Her gaze shot up to gauge his reaction, but his sunglasses blocked the sight. What she could see of his face indicated total immunity to the jab.

Of course. A man who’d achieved as much wealth and power as Lincoln Coryell couldn’t have a fragile ego. Pride maybe. Excessive pride. But there was nothing fragile about the tower of masculinity before her.

“Order me some coffee while you’re at it,” he said, then turned and walked toward the hangar without a backward glance.

Madison managed to eat a good portion of the salad and dry toast she’d ordered before Linc joined her at the café. After little more than an hour on the ground, they were taking off. Madison felt worlds better, but she couldn’t get over her nervousness in the small plane. Though she didn’t feel much safer in an airliner, small planes always gave her. the sensation of hurtling through space in a soda can.

She and Linc didn’t speak, and eventually she dozed as the stress of the day caught up with her and the drone of the engine lulled her to sleep.

It was the odd sound of the engine that woke her later. At first, she thought they were landing. But the staccato sound of an engine failing and the irregular vibration that shook the plane registered. Terror brought her fully awake. She jerked her head in Linc’s direction.

“What’s wrong?” Linc’s sunglasses were off and his lean jaw was clenched so hard that she knew the answer before he spoke.

“Tighten that seat belt and hang on.”

The grim order made her face forward to see out the windshield. Mountains. They were over the Rockies. The deep, heavy green of forest that mantled everything below the highest peaks and seemed to fill every valley between was breathtaking. The realization that they were about to fall into all those trees—and would probably be killed in a fiery crash—was so vivid suddenly that she couldn’t breathe. Every wild beat of her heart thundered in her ears as she watched the mountains and all that green come closer and closer.

Her body went so rigid with tension that she was in literal pain. Terror left her dry-mouthed and mute. But when the plane suddenly lurched to the left, her stomach lurched with it and startled a gurgling shriek out of her.

Her shock-rounded eyes flew to Linc and she saw him grappling with the controls. It took her a moment to register the fact that he’d turned the plane on purpose. Though it was out of control, he’d managed to force it to do something.

“What are you doing?” Her demand didn’t convey any of her insight, but it was as close as she dared to the question she really wanted to have answered: Are we going to die?

A cowardice she’d never suspected of herself gripped her insides. They were about to die and she wasn’t ready!

The plane dipped crazily and suddenly she could see the treetops loom so close she felt as if she could put out her hand and touch them. She could see the individual leaves on the branches and instinctively pressed her feet against the floor in an irrational attempt to push herself higher.

“Cover your face!”

Madison was too frozen to move. The last thing she glimpsed before the nose of the plane came up and blocked her view was a space of open meadow.

And then the terrible sound of treetops scraping metal filled the plane. She leaned forward and covered her face with her arms. She must have fainted then because she never felt the crash.

Linc wiped impatiently at the trickle of sweat that slid down between his eyebrows, not surprised that his fingers came away bloody. His head hurt like hell, but he was alive. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious, but it couldn’t have been long. The sun—what he could tell about its position with trees blocking its light—hadn’t moved too far. But he’d been out long enough that the smell of leaking fuel was strong.

He glanced over at his passenger. Maddie finally looked disheveled. Her chin rested on her chest, and she looked as limp as a rag doll. She didn’t seem to have a mark on her, so he reached over to touch her arm and give her a small shake. She stirred then, lifted her head, and let out a small moan.

Madison felt as if every joint in her body had been dislocated. Consciousness ebbed back and with it the memory of falling through the trees. She jerked fully awake and glanced around wildly. Outside the missing windows of the cockpit, tree trunks and branches were everywhere. The tip of a branch had speared through a window space far enough that it was only six inches from her face.

“You all right?” The brusque question startled her, but when she turned her head to look over at Linc, her neck was stiff with pain. The terror and disorientation she felt eased at the comforting sight of him.

He was no longer wearing his Stetson. A cut near his hairline glistened with blood, but other than the cut, he looked as rugged and domineering as ever. His skin was a little gray beneath his tan, but he looked wonderfully, gloriously unharmed.

He gave her arm a small shake that made her aware he was speaking to her. “Are you all right?”

The question sounded a little kinder this time, and for some reason, her eyes began to smart with tears. Appalled, she forced them back and focused on mentally checking herself for injuries. Other than a stiff neck and a body that ached everywhere, she felt remarkably unharmed.

The realization that she was alive sent a gust of pure euphoria through her. “I seem to be...fine.”

Linc didn’t look as euphoric as she felt. In fact, his expression was so grim that she felt a surge of anxiety.

“Then we’d better get out. Carefully,” he added, “since we’ve got a fuel leak.”

Madison smelled it now, and it was strong. She automatically reached for her handbag, then had to rummage on the floor for it. Thankfully, it had been securely zipped so its contents hadn’t been scattered.

Linc bustled her out of the plane as quickly and forcefully as he had at the airport, but they had to fight their way through the broken branches and underbrush that jammed the space around the right wing.

Once they were on the ground, Madison stumbled through the brush, using her handbag to cover her face until they were past the tail of the plane. The meadow she’d glimpsed before the crash was just a few feet away.

Line had obviously not had enough room to land before he ran out of clearing and smashed into the trees. When Madison turned and saw that the nose and body of the plane had speared neatly into a narrow gap between the tree trunks, she couldn’t help being impressed with his aim.

But because the plane had gone into the trees, the crash wouldn’t be easy to spot from the sky. It dawned on her that the hidden crash made it next to impossible for a quick rescue. Linc’s next words confirmed it.