Kitabı oku: «Mountain Wild», sayfa 4

The care he showed for his pet was something that had always intrigued her. She couldn’t recall a time she’d spied Garret in the hills without his dog along.

“He hasn’t been any trouble.”

She could feel his gaze upon her, could tell he was watching her by the stillness of his shadow.

“Glad one of us hasn’t.” Fabric snapped as he shook his trousers out.

She set the steaming bowls aside as his shadow swayed, his hand reaching toward his head. She turned as he slumped forward and reached for the foot of the bed.

“Garret.” She was beside him in a flash.

“I’m all right,” he said, easing down to sit on the trunk.

Maggie curled her fingers into her palms, fighting her urge to soothe him. His complexion had paled. Wearing only his trousers, his shirt clutched in his hand, he rested his elbows on his thighs and blinked as though clearing his vision.

“You shouldn’t have gone out into the cold,” she scolded.

He glanced up, his gaze dark, burning with frustration.

Maggie took a step back, beyond his reach.

“Why in hell am I so weak?”

“You nearly froze to death. You’ve been abed for two days.”

His green eyes scanned her from head to toe and back again. “This may sound rude, but…should I know you?”

“I don’t see why you should,” she said, relief easing her stalled breath. “You were hardly conscious when I found you.”

“You seem to know me…and my dog.”

“I’m sure most folks around these parts are familiar with you and your cattle ranch, Mr. Daines.”

He shrugged on his shirt, his gaze never wavering from hers. “I thought I knew most folks around these parts. And I sure—” He paused, turning his face toward the collar. He sniffed loudly, his eyes widening as he met her gaze. “You washed my clothes?”

“They were already wet.” She wasn’t about to put dirty clothes in her cupboards. “I figured adding some soap couldn’t hurt.”

A slow grin eased his tense expression. He stood and stuffed his shirttails into his waistband. “I smell like a field of flowers.”

“It’s the only soap I have,” she said, realizing now that a man may not care to smell like wildflowers.

“I suppose it’s better than carrying the stench of sweat and horsehide.”

While tending his fever, it made sense to add some soap to that water, as well. Hopefully she’d rinsed him enough since then that he hadn’t noticed.

He sat on the side of the bed and Maggie felt some relief. He wasn’t quite so intimidating when he wasn’t towering over her. Perhaps she could tie him to a chair until he was strong enough to leave.

“I’ll be damned,” he muttered, staring at his mended sock.

Maggie silently cursed the heat in her cheeks. “They were in a sorry shape.”

“You’re more than a thorough nursemaid. I’m indebted to you, Mrs…?”

“Didn’t take much to mend them.”

He stared at her a moment, his narrowing gaze telling her he hadn’t missed her failure to give her name. “I was also wearing a gun,” he said.

“You’ll get your holster back when you leave.”

“I didn’t see any other structures outside. Where are you keeping my horse?”

“There was no horse.”

“No horse?” He surged up. Maggie forced herself to hold her ground, not that she could have backed any closer to the stove.

“I found you and your dog buried in the snow about two miles from here.”

“Buried?”

“Covered by a foot of fresh powder. I nearly walked right past you. If your dog hadn’t stood up, I would have. You’d been hit in the head and had been on the ground for a long while.”

He touched the spot on his head that had been caked with blood when she’d found him.

“Perhaps you should sit down, Mr. Daines. You were suffering from the cold when I brought you here. You had a high fever all of yesterday and most of today. You’d slept so long I was starting to worry the cold or the fever had damaged your brain.”

“It must have. I don’t remember riding into these moun-tains. And I can assure you I am not prone to falling from my saddle.”

“I didn’t assume that you were. Looked to me like someone struck you with a rifle. By the time I found you any other tracks had been long-since snowed over.”

He’d been attacked? Garret tried to jar his memory. Shouldn’t he remember something like being knocked from his saddle? Had he been ambushed? The last he could recall was watching Duce’s tracks fade in the heavy rain.

“I was looking for my partner,” he said. “I followed Duce’s tracks into the hills. What little snow had been on the ground was washed out by the rain.”

“That’s why you nearly froze to death. It didn’t rain long before snow set in, just before sundown. I found you about an hour past dawn. Have you been feuding with anyone?”

“Only half the state,” he said, shoving his hands into his hair. “The cattle trade has been more akin to pirating as of late.”

“Desperation and greed tend to have that effect on men.”

The chill in her husky voice drew his gaze. Why was it her face that filled his mind instead of his attackers?

She nodded toward the front wall. “Go sit at the table.”

She sure didn’t have any trouble passing out orders. His first memory after the storm was her, those blue eyes ablaze with passion, her sweet body arched beneath him as she’d awakened to his touch, his kisses…

“Mr. Daines?”

He blinked, and realized she stood before him with a bowl in her hands, his stern nursemaid, not the lover from his dream. The hearty aroma penetrated his dazed mind, initiating a growl in his empty belly.

“The table,” she repeated.

She obviously didn’t trust him to not end up on his face, staying at his side until he sat in the chair. She plunked the bowl of stew down in front of him and his mouth watered at the sight of steaming chunks of meat in dark gravy. Despite his hunger, he waited for his hostess to join him. Realizing he sat on the only chair, he grabbed the trunk from the foot of the bed and slid it forward.

She stayed by the stove, her bowl in hand, her sweet face pinched in a frown. He gathered she hadn’t planned on joining him at the table. Her steps seemed to drag as she approached him. She nudged the trunk to the far side of the table then hesitantly took her seat.

“I swear I don’t bite,” he said, forcing a smile.

“I don’t usually have company.”

“I don’t usually get lost in snowstorms. I am sorry for putting you out.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t have to bury you in the frozen ground.” With that, she took a bite.

He didn’t wait for further invitation. He heaped a big bite into his mouth and nearly groaned as venison melted against his tongue, the flavorful gravy nothing short of heaven. He emptied the small bowl in a few hearty bites and would have thumbed out the remaining gravy had the bowl not been snatched away from him.

“I’ll get you some more.”

“I don’t want to leave you hungry,” he said, while hoping that big pot was filled to the brim.

“I have plenty,” she said, refilling his bowl. “Luckily I brought more than a frozen cowboy home from my hunt.”

“Thank you,” he said, unable to pull his gaze away from her graceful movements as she sat across from him. Had some sorry excuse of a man left her up here to fend for herself under such harsh conditions? Catching his gaze, she paused before taking another bite. Her tense expression suggested she’d rather be dining alone.

“You were out hunting in that storm?” he asked.

“That deer meat didn’t jump into my stewpot on its own.”

Garret grinned. The flat line of her lips didn’t so much as twitch.

“I don’t imagine it did. Guess you caught more than you bargained for.”

“I did indeed.”

“You must have been at the end of your food stores to be hunting in this storm?”

Her jaw tightened.

“I’m stocked up just fine,” his nameless savior insisted.

He wasn’t new to stubborn women. Wasn’t a woman born more stubborn than his older sister—or so he’d thought.

“A tracking snow can be real useful. It was—before the storm hit. You were the one so far from home.”

If he’d ended up here, what had happened to Duce?

“My business partner didn’t ride in at noon. Duce wouldn’t have stayed out in that weather unless he was having trouble or had found trouble.”

“I’d been hunting in those lower ranges the whole day. I didn’t come across anyone or hear any other gunshots.”

He hoped Duce had made it back to the ranch. “How long have you lived up here?”

“A while.”

Boots pounced up beside her, his front paws landing in her lap. “I already fed you,” she said, her lips hinting at a smile.

“Sorry about that.”

“I’m used to it by now.” She scratched at his ears, turning his cow dog to a limp pile of fur.

“You’ve spoiled him. Boots usually has better manners.”

“You’ve been far more trouble than he has.”

God save him, her smiling eyes sent a whisper of sensation across his skin as images flooded his mind. Unnerved by the rush of desire, he swept his gaze over the small space.

Simple, clean, the nicest cave he’d ever seen. Small and dank, yet livable—for a miner. So where the hell was he?

“More?” she asked, reaching for his bowl.

The first two servings had taken the edge off his hunger, but he could easily put away another. “Only if you’re sure you can spare it.”

She pushed his dog aside and went to the stove. His gaze followed her dainty form, trailing down the part of her braids to her slender, kissable neck.

He pinched his eyes shut. If he’d actually made advances on her in her sleep, she’d be tossing him out on his ear, not serving him stew. And yet…he could practically feel her arms around his neck as she had kissed him into unconsciousness. He looked up as she stepped beside him, her eyes full of caution as she slid the bowl and mugs onto the table—she sure as hell didn’t like being near him.

“You’ve saved my life,” he said. “And I still don’t know your name.”

“I couldn’t rightly leave you in the snow.” She turned away and he caught her by the wrist.

“That’s the second time you’ve avoided telling me your name. Who are you and where is your husband?”

“If you value that hand,” she said, the chill in her tone raising the hair on the back of his neck, “move it.”

Garret had lived with temperamental females long enough to know when his hide was in danger. This wasn’t a woman who took kindly to being backed into a corner—or grabbed by the wrist. She didn’t move to pull away but the cold clarity in her eyes told him her other hand was already gripping the hilt of her blade. A sudden move on his part would have painful results.

Biting back a swear word, he opened his fingers.

“My apologies.”

She took a step back, glowering at him as she rubbed her wrist. He knew he hadn’t used enough pressure to bruise her soft skin.

“Well?” he persisted. “Why isn’t your husband here? You are married, aren’t you?”

“I don’t see how my life history would be beneficial to you, Mr. Daines.”

“Considering I’ve been lying naked in your bed for the past few days,” he said bluntly, “asking your marital status seems a fair question.”

She crossed her arms, her pointed little chin raising a few notches. “Are you suggesting I should have left you in the snow for the sake of propriety?”

Her crisp speech carried a hint of formality that reminded him of Amanda’s. This woman’s sharp gaze and graceful mannerisms belayed her odd attire. She’d been properly schooled. Must have been a sweet-talking sonuvagun who’d convinced her to come all the way out here.

“No, ma’am,” he said. “I’m grateful for your help. But your husband may not appreciate—”

“I don’t have a husband, so you can relax.”

Relax? With the thoughts that were filtering through his mind. Not likely. Why the hell didn’t she have a husband? “You live way up here alone?”

“You should be focusing on getting your strength back. You’ll be leaving as soon as the weather allows.”

Her hostility and evasiveness gnawed at him. He was obviously making her nervous. Hell, he was making himself nervous!

“I know for certain I wasn’t near any homestead when the storm hit,” he said, hoping a less invasive question would get him some answers. “At least none that I’m aware of. I’ve lived in this area for nearly nine years.”

“Do you really think you’re on a homestead?”

She wasn’t buying any of it.

“No, ma’am. More of a miner’s claim, I suppose.”

Her single arched eyebrow wasn’t a denial or a confirmation. The sheer challenge in her gaze caused a discomforting stir in his britches. He was starting to think he had a thing for sassy women. Sassy, stern and pretty beyond measure.

Her cheeks flushed to a soft pink before she hooded those blue eyes with thick lashes.

And passionate, his mind added. She’d been hesitant at first but had quickly turned to sweet fire in his arms.

Garret dropped his spoon, the provocative images in his mind driving him to the brink of insanity.

“Did I bed you?”

Her gaze snapped up, pinning him with those vibrant blue eyes.

Well hell, that hadn’t been the smooth delivery he’d hoped for.

Chapter Five

“No, you didn’t!”

Garret heaved a sigh of relief and shoved his hands through his hair. Oh, thank God.

Her angry glare cut his relief short.

“I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m a little…out of sorts.”

“I dragged your sorry hide two miles through the snow,” she raged, her crossed arms locked tight over her chest. “I was tired!”

Garret’s breath stalled, the tremble in her voice confirming his fear—he hadn’t been dreaming.

“Had I known you’d awaken with such intensions, I can assure you I’d have left you in the—”

“I’m sorry,” he said, lunging to his feet. “Honest to God, I wouldn’t have—”

“Sit! Down!”

He obeyed the command only because he recognized her fear. Beneath the anger in her gaze, he saw panic.

“I took advantage,” he said quickly. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”

“Neither was I.”

The stain of embarrassment on her cheeks stabbed at his conscience. He hadn’t given her a chance to refuse him, having coaxed her body into passion while she slept. “It was all my fault,” he said. “You were sound asleep. Your body was on my side before you even woke up and I—”

“Enough!” she shouted, her fingers clamping over the hilt of her blade. Garret carefully regarded the hostility in her posture poised to strike.

“I swear I’d never force myself on you.” Holy hell. He wasn’t rightly sure what he’d done before he’d passed out. He knew what he’d wanted to do.

“Oh God,” he groaned, horrified at the thought of shaming the woman who’d saved his life. “Did I hurt you?”

The concern in his soft tone caught Maggie off guard.

Did he hurt her? She’d never felt anything so exquisite in all her life. “Ma’am? If I—”

“You kissed me,” she said. “And then you blacked out with fever.”

“That’s all?”

That’s all? “That was enough!”

“I was afraid…the thought of forcing you—”

“You didn’t,” she clipped. Remembering just how willingly she’d responded to his kisses increased the fire beneath her cheeks. The sheer relief in his expression doubled her embarrassment. His eyes no longer clouded by fever, the thought of such intimacy with someone like her likely repulsed him. Alarmed by the moisture burning her eyes, Maggie turned toward the stove.

“I was disrespectful.”

Startled by the voice directly behind her, Maggie spun around. He stood a foot away, his fingers tucked into his pant pockets, his expression nothing short of miserable.

“I am truly sorry.”

The ache in her chest intensified. “Okay,” she said, hardly able to breathe the word.

“It ain’t a wonder you’ve looked on the verge of skinning me. I’d be gunning for any man who’d treated my sister in such a way. Honest to God, I thought you were a dream. I couldn’t imagine why else I’d be in bed beside such a…”

Maggie steeled herself for the insult. Hag? Shrew? She’d heard them all, whispers of townsfolk when she’d venture into a settlement.

“Beautiful woman. I figured I must be dead or dreaming.”

Surprise rippled through her. Was he mocking her?

He took a step back, caution darkening his gaze—the effect she was used to having on folks—and Maggie realized she was glaring at him.

“Did you really drag me two miles through the snow?”

She wanted to rage at him to keep backing up, to sit down and shut up until he cleared out…but she couldn’t. His solemn gaze choked her anger and put an ache in her belly. He felt bad—she didn’t know why that should soften her rage, figuring he ought to feel real bad and then some for all he’d put her through. It had been sheer hell, having her hands all over him while fighting the memory of his sweet words and even sweeter mouth.

“I had a sled,” she told him, his silent guilt wearing on her nerves. “Not that it made the climb an easy one.”

“Thank you.”

His gaze held hers as an unfamiliar surge twisted through her, feelings she couldn’t identify.

“Guess I can’t blame you for not wanting to share your name after the way I shamed you. Don’t blame you a bit for reactin’ so hostile. I’ll admit, for a moment there, I thought you might be the woman they call Mad Mag. I swear, I—”

“Grace.” She blurted out her middle name, the first that came to mind.

“I beg your pardon?”

Realizing she’d shouted the name at him, she dragged in a calming breath. “My name is Grace.”

His stormy eyes warmed as his lips curved into a grin.

Sweet mercy.

“You look like a Grace.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That it’s a pretty name.”

She blinked against a sudden burning in her eyes. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t breathe with him standing so close. “You still have food on the table.”

He gave a nod and turned away from her. “I have a niece named Grace. She and her sister are six years old and cute as buttons.”

The moment his butt touched down on the chair she made a dash for her coat and shrugged into the heavy fur as she reached for the door.

“Where are you—?”

“Wood box,” she said, stepping into a burst of cold wind. “Boots!”

Garret watched his dog dash outside. She slammed the door before he could offer another word, much less any assistance.

His elbows hit the table as a hard breath broke from his lungs. He rubbed a hand over his face and the four days’ worth of growth on his chin. He must look like a polar bear. He’d clearly displayed all the manners of one.

Maybe Duce was right and he needed to find himself a steady girl at the Gilded Lady. He’d given it a shot, but after having his own woman in his own bed, weekend romps just didn’t appeal to him. A hell of an inconvenience for a man with no wife. The thought of seeking out any of the single young ladies in town left him cold and irritable. He flat didn’t trust those inviting smiles and batting lashes.

Instead of carousing or courtship, he’d assaulted a decent woman who’d saved his life.

What a fine mess.

He ate the last of his stew wondering all the while what had happened to Grace for her to end up alone in this cave. Done up as it was, the stone enclosure was still a cave in the heart of wild country. And she shouldn’t be out there in that wind!

He stood, his sore muscles complaining as he collected the empty dishes on the table. It would take another day before he’d be of any use. A full stomach didn’t do anything but sap the last of his strength. Not that she’d welcome his help.

Damn it.

Spotting her shotgun still propped inside the door, he knew he was lucky she hadn’t reached for her gun and loaded him full of buckshot after the liberties he’d taken. Would have served him right.

He stepped up to a washstand wedged between her pantry and the empty wood box. Finding a jar of dishrags, he took one and wiped out the bowls then set them in the basin. He lifted the kettle from the stove and scalded the tin with the hot water. Grace returned as he was stacking the dishes in her pantry. Didn’t take but a glance at her wide blue eyes to gauge her wariness.

Boots trotted in before her, his wet paws tracking prints across the floor she’d already mopped up once today.

She kicked the door closed behind them and stood there, her arms loaded down with wood.

“I’ll wipe up the floor,” he said, turning to find another rag.

“No.”

The single words stopped him.

“You should lie down.”

He figured that was her way of telling him to get the hell away from her. Tiny thing that she was, he didn’t doubt his size made her nervous. He backed toward the bed. His dog seemed to know the routine, having lain back down in his corner without prompting.

She didn’t take a step forward until Garret eased onto the mattress. She dropped the firewood into the box beside her stove, her gaze moving over the sink basin and the dishes he’d rinsed and put away. She fetched the drying sheet from the back of her chair and dropped it on the damp floor. Her foot dragged the cloth across the puddles as she watched him.

“If I can help with anything—”

“You can help by resting.”

“Two days abed should have been enough,” he said, hating that he felt so damn useless.

“You were sick.”

Red rimmed her eyes. He imagined she hadn’t slept much in the past three days.

“Doesn’t look like you’ve had much sleep at all.”

“I’ll sleep just fine once you’re gone.”

“I can kick back in that chair if—”

“You’ll stay in the bed. I’m not taking the chance of your fever coming back.”

Her cut-and-dried delivery of orders sure could go against a man’s grain. Aggravated by his weakened state and aching with exhaustion, he was in no shape to argue with her.

“Rest up,” she said, picking up her shotgun on her way to the chair. She settled back like a guard on watch duty. “You’ve got a long walk home.”

Garret kept his eyes on Grace as he stepped into his second boot and reached for his coat. He hated that he’d slept in her warm bed while she’d huddled over a table all night. Her cheek rested on her folded arms, one of her hands gripped a white cloth. Her expression was peaceful in the dim light of the lamp, yet he knew the quilt draped over her shoulders couldn’t be keeping her warm. A hard wind blew outside, the cave growing colder by the second.

He’d attempted to stoke the fire, but hadn’t been able to do more than clear out ashes. Grace had already burned the last of the wood she’d brought in. With no natural light in the place he couldn’t tell the time, but judging by the cold stove and empty firebox, it was near dawn or shortly thereafter.

Boots bumped his hand as he reached for the gloves tucked in his coat pocket. Anxious to go outside, his dog pranced impatiently.

“Easy, partner,” he whispered.

Grace jerked up as though he’d shouted. Her eyes wide, disoriented, she shot to her feet, the chair scraping across the floor as her gaze wildly searched the room.

“It’s just me,” he said, watching recognition ease her fright. “You’re a jumpy little thing, aren’t you?”

“I don’t usually wake up to voices.” Still clutching the white cloth, she tossed it onto the table and pressed her hands to the small of her back. An array of colors on the fancy hand towel caught his attention. A small wooden hoop clasped over the white fabric, the circular portion of cloth stretched tight. A threaded needle hung from a half-finished yellow blossom amid a cluster of brightly colored flowers.

“You sew,” he said, looking closer at the intricate bouquet embroidered on the dish towel.

“I do.” She picked up a covered basket from the floor beside her chair. Flipping up the lid, she tossed the towel over a rainbow of thread.

“Did you stitch the flowers on the shirt you’re wearing?”

She glanced down and seemed surprised by the red blossoms draping down from her shoulders. “Yeah.”

“It’s pretty.”

Her face scrunched with a frown. “Still storming?” she asked, glancing toward the unmistakable sounds of a grueling wind battering the trees outside.

“I’d say so. Boots and I were just headed out. Why don’t you curl up in that warm bed? There’s bound to be fresh snow. Soon as I shovel out to the woodpile, I’ll relight the stove.”

Maggie hadn’t stopped assessing her cabin, the bed he’d made up, the pail of ashes sitting before the stove. He’d found his hat, the brown Stetson pulled low on his brow. He wore his thick coat. The bottoms of his trousers were tucked into the tall shaft of his boots. Apparently he’d been up and around for quite some time—and she hadn’t woken up?

“I’ll be back with some wood as soon I finish the shoveling.”

Ready to be rid of him, she waved him off. “Go. Shovel’s in the corner by the—”

He was already lifting the bar, shovel in hand. He opened the door to a gust of wind. Snow rolled in onto the floor, which was to be expected. Maggie reached for her blanket, shivering as she cinched the quilt tight around her shoulders.

Boots barked, but didn’t bound out the door as he usually did.

“Sonuvagun,” Garret muttered. “That’s a lot of snow.”

Curious about both their odd reactions to a bit of snowdrift, Maggie stepped forward. A bit of snowdrift was actually closer to five feet. Nearly snowed in, the high point almost reached the stone overhang.

“The wind just builds it up against the cabin.”

Garret eased out and knocked back the soft powder. To Maggie’s surprise, he hit a solid four feet of snowbank. He glanced back at her but Maggie’s gaze was locked on the blur of white whipping beyond the break, a blizzard that would swallow anyone who ventured too far out.

She couldn’t send him out in that.

Boots kept barking at the wall of white blocking his path.

“Stop your griping, old man,” Garret said to his dog. “I’ll get you out.”

Boots quieted but stayed at his heels as Garret shoveled out a narrow path. The moment he eased to the side his dog jumped through the narrow channel.

“Looks like I’ll be getting a late start.”

Maggie tightened her hold on the blanket to clamp out the cold. “You can’t leave today.”

“I can manage,” he said, shoveling at the frozen ground.

“Yesterday you could hardly stand.”

He straightened and looked back at her. “Do you want me gone or not?”

“I want you gone, not frozen. I didn’t spend three days keeping you alive just to send you back out in the middle of a blizzard.”

“Believe me, I’m just as anxious to get back to my ranch as you are to see me off.”

“It’s already well past sunup. It will be noon by the time I’m dug out and we get you outfitted and ready to go. Even in clear weather it’d take a full day for you to reach your ranch.” She shook her head. “You’ll have to wait.”

His jaws flexed, his eyes narrowed slightly and Maggie was reminded she spoke to a man of considerable size and strength. And she was demanding he stay? Fear nettled beneath her skin. She’d lost her mind.

“I’ll start digging you out and see how it goes.”

Boots stuck his head in, his sharp barks rattling through the cabin.

“Would you stop shouting at me,” Garret said with exasperation. “I can’t squeeze through a rabbit hole!” Boots moved back and kept barking as Garret dug at the thick snow pack. “All your yapping isn’t helping,” he grumbled, which Boots answered with another series of barks.

Maggie was surprised to find herself grinning as she watched them. The way he talked to Boots, as though talking to a person, had been something she’d always found endearing about him. His wide shoulders shifted in fluid motions as he cleared the doorway with impossible speed, shoveling away snow in minutes that would have taken her half the day. She envied his strength.

He turned back and dragged the flat shovel across the floor, clearing out the hard-packed snow that had slid inside. “I’ll bring in some wood as soon as I uncover the woodpile. You go on and get some sleep,” he said, nodding toward the bed before shutting the door.

Sleep? With him tromping around outside her cabin?

He sure seemed spry this morning for a man who could barely stand the day before. Amazing what a good meal could do. Maggie dried the floor and went to check the stove. She wasn’t pleased to find he’d cleared out all the hot coals, leaving the stove completely cold. She knew better than to let the fire die out during a storm. The way it was snowing, she’d have to go up top and dig out the stovepipe before she could light a fire. The mere thought made her shiver.

Garret came in with an armload of wood as she shrugged into her coat. He dumped the wood into the box, his hands slamming down on his hips as he regarded her for a silent moment.

“What’s wrong?”

“I let the fire die down, which means the pipe likely snowed over. I’ll have to clear it before I build a fire.” She refrained from telling him she never removed all the hot coals from the stove in the dead of winter.

He turned, his gaze following the pipe up through her ceiling. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, tugging his collar up as he headed for the door. “Stay inside.”

The door slammed and she bristled at his parting words. Who was he to be giving her orders?

Biting out a curse, she took off her coat and went back to the stove. As she filled it with kindling and wood, she could hear the scraping sounds coming from up above. The very idea of him knowing her location filled her with unease.

“All clear.” His deep voice carried through the pipe with crystal clarity and caused an annoying stir of ripples in her belly.

If food was what it took to keep him strong, she’d keep cooking until he was gone.

Garret had hoped to get a lay of the land, but could hardly see more than five yards in front of him. Through the distortion of snowflakes none of the surrounding white ridges looked familiar. In this storm, eight miles from his ranch might as well have been a hundred.