Читать книгу AWOL with the Operative - Jean Thomas - Страница 11

Chapter 3

Eve was aware of a faint but steady light in the root cellar. Not the oil lantern. The last time she’d swiveled her gaze in its direction, she had realized it must have exhausted its oil in the night. It was no longer burning.

Now, seeking the source of the light, she discovered little beams of it stealing through the narrow cracks between the planks of the door. Daylight.

The glow was just sufficient for her to read her watch. It was time for her to wake Sam again. They had traded off vigils of wakefulness during the night, with Sam registering no symptoms of a concussion. It seemed he was in the clear.

They had managed between them to get enough rest during the night. But now they needed to be on the move again. Not, however, before Eve answered another need. She had to relieve herself.

Much as she hated to leave the warmth and comfort of Sam’s side, she had no other choice. It was either that or risk an embarrassing accident. She managed to remove herself from his embrace without disturbing him. It wouldn’t hurt to let him go on sleeping until she returned from her errand.

Tucking the sides of his open coat over his chest, Eve got to her feet. Her intervals of slumber had permitted her to recover her strength, but her body paid the penalty of a night on the hard floor in an awkward position. She was as stiff as an old woman.

Taking a moment to restore her circulation and ease her sore muscles, she gazed down at Sam. Even like this, snoring softly and sprawled against the stone wall, he was a powerful figure. The sight of his face, shadowed with the beginning of a beard, rugged features relaxed in sleep, tugged at her with a gut-level sensation of tenderness.

You’ve got to stop this. It’s only going to mean heartbreak for you in the end.

He didn’t stir when she resolutely turned away from him, scraped the door back and climbed out of the cellar. The morning sunlight glinting off the snow was so brilliant it was blinding. No wonder. When she shaded her eyes against the glare with her hand, she saw that the sky had cleared in the night and was now a sharp, pure blue.

What last evening’s twilight and overcast sky had failed to reveal was plainly visible this morning. Far away, above the forest, rose a majestic mountain range. Beautiful, but at this moment there was something more important within easy reach. Behind the remains of the log cabin, and overlooked by them last night, was a weathered privy.

With a silent thanks to whoever had built the tiny structure, Eve hastened across the clearing. Like the root cellar, the privy was still miraculously intact.

After using the facility, and in the absence of water, she had no choice but to wash her hands with the clean snow. Frigid though it was, she scrubbed her face with snow, too.

Refreshed, she started back across the clearing in the still, frosty air. Sam had emerged from the root cellar and was standing at the top of the steps. He grinned at her when she reached him.

“I missed you,” he greeted her. “Where were you?”

“Had to answer the call of nature. In case you, ah, also…” She finished her explanation by nodding in the direction of the privy.

Sam lost no time in following her example. When he returned, he no longer wore the grin. It had been replaced by a slight frown.

“You should have roused me, Eve. We should have been on the move long ago.”

He must have consulted his own watch. She answered him with a pointedly sweet “Good morning to you, too.”