Taken By Storm by Donna Fletcher

nothing lasted forever. What would happen when a rescue failed, men were lost, and funds ran out?
    The future didn’t look bright for the outlaws, but then did a fugitive really have a future?
    He recalled Storm when she dressed as a woman and how lovely she looked. He could only imagine how her beauty would shine if she was dressed in new garments. But what good would new garments do her here in the forest, fighting the soldiers?
    She could return to America with him.
    The unexpected thought rattled him. This was her home, her land, and her people. She was born and raised here and had even warned him that Cullen might very well refuse to leave. He imagined she would as well.
    He could do only so much for her, and the thought saddened him.
    His eyes drifted shut as he thought how much she might like the Dakota Territory and what a shame that she’d never get a chance to see it.
    A crack of thunder woke him with a start and he jolted up in bed. He could hear the rain still, and something else. He swung his legs off the bed, and cocked his head at the sound, his ears trying to determine its origin.
    Footsteps. Had Storm returned?
    He hurried out of his room, forgetting his shirt. Her door stood ajar, and he thought he heard voices, so he entered without knocking.
    She stood naked before the burning hearth, her back to him and her slim body glistening from the rain that dotted her pale skin. She was exquisite; a narrow waist that curved to round hips and taut buttocks, and skin that appeared as soft as a fresh rose petal.
    She shivered, her skin running wild with gooseflesh, and he quickly grabbed the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her, drawing her back into his arms to rest against his chest.
    She didn’t object, didn’t push him away or insist that she needed no help. She simply lingered in the silence of his protective embrace.
    He hugged her tightly, wanting to keep her warm and wanting to chase away whatever worries haunted her.
    After several silent minutes he whispered, “Are you all right?”
    She didn’t answer immediately and he simply waited.
    “I wasn’t in time.”
    The despair in her voice jabbed at his heart. “You can’t save everyone.”
    She turned around in his arms. “I would have gone immediately if I had known. I didn’t know.”
    “You can’t blame yourself.”
    A single tear rolled down her cheek. “He was my brother.”
    Burke almost reeled from her remark, and he had the good sense to walk both of them to the bed to sit.
    A tap at the door preceded Janelle’s entrance, and she smiled when she saw him there beside Storm.
    “I brought a hot brew to warm her and cloths to change her wet bandage.” Janelle placed the items on the table. “Could you see to it for me, Burke? I have more pressing matters.”
    Burke nodded. “I’ll take care of her.”
    Janelle closed the door quietly behind her.
    He left her side to get the hot brew, placing the cup in her hands, and ordered her to drink.
    She took a sip.
    “I didn’t know you had a brother,” he said.
    “He wasn’t my blood brother, but we spent a good portion of our lives together working for the same family.”
    Burke understood the camaraderie of such a relationship. Sometimes it could be stronger than blood relations.
    “How did you learn of his plight?”
    Storm hugged the warm cup. “I received a message in the middle of the night.”
    “Why didn’t you wake me? I would have gone with you.”
    “Tanin was the logical choice and he was familiar with the area. You would have only slowed me down and time was of the essence, though time had run out.”
    Burke listened while he redressed her wound.
    “He was imprisoned for stealing food and then left to starve. It makes no sense.”
    “Life never does,” he said, relieved to feel that her chilled skin had warmed considerably. He’d like to think his arms had warmed her, but probably the hot brew had chased the chill from her bones.
    “I want it to,” she said