Читать книгу The Passionate Lover - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 6

‘MR Whitney—–'

‘I believe Kenny decided days ago it was to be Kyle,’ he rasped dismissively, moving with that minimum of movement that was so natural to him. ‘Now are you capable of helping me get us something for dinner? If not perhaps you could find some cutlery to put on the table.’ He was already engrossed in the contents of the tins in the cupboards over and under the sink.

‘I can cook, Kyle—–’ She snapped her resentment at his assumption that she didn't know one end of a kitchen from the other.

‘Thank God for small mercies.’ He gave her a look that implied he thought she was good for little else.

Shelby was well aware of how she must appear to him. A little over five feet in height, with gleaming red-gold hair just past her shoulders, a beautiful face dominated by thickly lashed green eyes, her slender figure shown to perfection in the dark green cashmere sweater and tightly fitting denims, he must be cursing the day she had walked into his life, must wish he hadn't come looking for her either!

‘Kyle, about Kenny—–'

‘He was on his way to see Wendy when I last saw him,’ he dismissed with cruel honesty.

Wendy Seymore was Kenny's old childhood sweetheart, Shelby knew that, she had even met the other girl on one occasion, an embarrassingly awkward time when Wendy had made no secret of her dislike of Shelby. In the circumstances she hadn't been able to blame the other girl, but she found it hard to believe that Kenny had left her out in the blizzard while he went to visit the other girl on her father's neighbouring ranch. It didn't sound like the Kenny she knew and loved. There had to be a logical explanation for his behaviour. If only she could think of one!

‘Look at this practically, Shelby.’ Surprisingly Kyle's voice had softened a little as he noticed her pained preoccupation. ‘You've had a free two-week holiday in Montana. It's more return than a lot of Women get.'

Her mouth firmed. ‘If you're implying what I think you are, Mr Whitney,’ the formality seemed perfectly fitting in the circumstances! ‘I can assure you that I haven't been paid for services rendered!’ Two angry spots of colour darkened her cheeks.

His calculating gaze moved over her with slow thoroughness, from the tip of her gleaming head to the boots on her feet, his eyes darkening as they encountered the latter. ‘You should have taken those off,’ he bit out accusingly. ‘They're wet through! I bet your denims are too,’ he added questioningly. ‘It's a little difficult to tell when they already fit so—snugly,’ he said derisively.

She knew the disparaging comment was warranted, but when she had done her shopping for this trip back in London these clothes had seemed ideal for the climate while still remaining feminine. She had only realised the absurdity of them when the denims were too tight for her to sit astride the horse Kenny had persuaded her to ride, the boots too high-heeled for her to walk with any degree of composure over the uneven ground of the Double K yards.

But Kyle was right about the denims being damp, the snow having been up to her thighs in places. Although what he expected her to do about the situation she didn't know. He must be as wet as she was, and neither of them had a change of clothes available. He soon had an answer to that!

‘I suggest you take off your clothes before you catch pneumonia,’ he continued at her silence.

‘Certainly not!'

‘And wrap up in a blanket until they dry,’ he added over her outraged comment.

‘There aren't any blankets,’ she told him with almost triumphant spite.

With a pitying glance in her direction he moved to the chests that stood beneath the two lower bunks, pulling them out to display more quilts like the one he had placed over her earlier, and also blankets and sheets, enough for all four of the bunk beds.

‘Help yourself,’ he stood up. ‘But for God's sake hurry up and get out of those wet clothes.'

‘You're as wet as I am!’ The way his own denims clung to the lean length of his muscular legs hadn't escaped her notice.

‘And I intend doing something about it as soon as I have you sorted out.'

‘I'm not a child—–'

‘Then quit acting like one!’ he suddenly exploded with temper, running one lean hand through the thickness of his dark hair. ‘Look, we're both tired, after being out in that how could we be anything else! I for one am too tired to argue with you about something as trivial as wet clothing. I'm also hungry, and when I'm hungry my temper gets frayed.'

‘You can say that again!’ she snapped, wishing he would stop talking down to her all the time.

‘And, obviously, so does yours,’ he added with pointed sarcasm.

She had the grace to look abashed. ‘I am a little damp,’ she admitted softly. ‘Hungry too.'

‘Then the sooner you undress the sooner we can eat,’ Kyle wasn't prepared to give an inch. ‘I'll make up the fire, you can change here,’ he added impatiently as she made no effort to move while he stood there watching her, striding across the room to begin throwing logs on the fire, his back firmly turned towards her, rigid with displeasure.

‘Er—–'

‘What is it now?’ His impatience was coming to boiling point as he turned to glare at her.

‘The bathroom,’ she explained reluctantly, embarrassed at having to ask him about something so personal.

‘There isn't one,’ he derided.

‘I know that,’ she flushed as he deliberately misunderstood her. God, she wasn't stupid enough to think there would actually be a bathroom out here! ‘I don't want a bath, I'm asking where the—–'

‘It's outside,’ he finally took pity on her discomfort. ‘At the side of the cabin. This place wasn't built to be used as a winter home,’ he told her without apology for the fact that she had to go out in the cold once again. ‘It's used for a few weeks in the spring and summer, there's no reason to have the bathroom inside. The food is kept in stock here just in case,’ he added grimly.

‘In case some irresponsible woman goes and gets herself lost,’ Shelby finished tersely, knowing that was what he had been implying.

‘Exactly,’ he nodded abruptly. ‘Take one of the lamps with you,’ he instructed. ‘I'd hate you to wander off and get lost again.'

She bit back the angry retort that hovered on the edge of her lips, knowing that anything she had to say would only give him the opportunity to make yet another blistering condemnation of her. Besides, her very real need for the bathroom was more important at the moment, and after pulling on her hat, jacket and gloves she picked up the lamp to leave.

‘It's to the right,’ Kyle suddenly told her, when he had appeared to be taking no notice of her.

Shelby flashed him a grateful look, almost knocked back inside by the freezing cold wind that hit her as soon as she opened the door. The snow may have stopped falling for the moment but the wind howled on like a demented demon, driving her back as she fought her way to the small wooden building next to the cabin. By the time she had battled her way there and then back again she was beginning to wonder if it was worth it, feeling more exhausted than ever.

Kyle was still sitting where she had left him when she turned from forcing the door closed, although he frowned as he looked up at her. ‘Did you fall?’ he rasped, standing up.

The way he was moving towards her made her back up against the door, her eyes wide.

‘For God's sake,’ he bit out harshly. ‘I'm not so desperate that I would resort to forcing myself on a woman who, at the moment, resembles the attractions of a drowned rat!’ His eyes glittered dangerously. ‘You have a cut on your head, I merely wanted to take a look at it.'

Shelby felt very young and very stupid at that moment. Which was ridiculous! She was a very capable and successful busineswoman in London, her age and widowed status precluding her being young. But she would be the first to admit that she was out of her element in this situation, that although she disliked Kyle Whitney intensely, hated the way he constantly reminded her how stupid she had been to get lost in the way that she had, she was very grateful that he was here. But she knew he didn't feel the same way, that he didn't find her in the least attractive, as she didn't him, but her nerves were at such a taut pitch her recoil from him had been instinctive rather than intentional.

‘I'm sorry,’ she muttered as he examined her right temple with surprisingly gentle fingers. ‘And I think I probably got that when I fell into the cabin earlier.'

His mouth twisted with derision where it was on a level with her eyes, but the scathing comment she had been expecting didn't come. Instead he concentrated on the cut. ‘It doesn't look too bad, although the skin is broken. I'll clean it up for you once you have those wet clothes off.’ He stepped back.

She hadn't realised just how close he was standing until the warmth of his body was removed, feeling a sudden shiver through her body. ‘Get undressed,’ Kyle mistook the shiver for one of cold, turning back to the fire to give her what privacy he could in the close confines of the cabin.

Her clothes clung to her damply as she peeled them off, making the task doubly difficult, the cold seeming to have seeped into her very bones, the blanket she wrapped around her sarong-wise saving her modesty but giving little real warmth. It was also rough and abrasive against her skin. And she didn't even have a brush for her hair. Reaction suddenly began to set in, and she sat down heavily on one of the beds as the tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Everything had seemed so wonderful until today. She couldn't have been happier, was marrying the man she loved; Kenny had even decided they should live in London after the wedding, dispelling her worries about the salon. Now she had got lost in the snow, had been told Kenny no longer wanted to marry her, and was stranded in a primitive cabin with no clothes but what she had been wearing, with a man who made no attempt to hide the fact that he despised her.

It was all too much, too sudden, and the tears fell unchecked, the sound of her sobbing finally causing Kyle to turn and look at her. ‘What the—–!’ He was across the room in two strides, sitting down beside her on the bed, pulling her into his arms, her face buried against his chest. ‘What is it, Shelby?’ he asked gruffly. ‘Tell me what's wrong?'

The man must be an insensitive clod if he didn't know. ‘Everything,’ she sniffed miserably.

‘Hey, we'll be all right. We'll be out of here in a few days, and then—–'

‘A few days!’ she wailed, crying harder than ever.

‘I'll see that you don't starve.’ He mocked the appetite the mountain air had given her the last weeks, having eaten as much as any man.

‘It isn't that,’ she choked, seeming to have trouble stopping the tears now that they had started.

‘Then what is it?’ His voice hardened. ‘Are you afraid you won't be able to survive here without the—companionship, my cousin has been providing?'

The insult was completely unwarranted, and her tears dried immediately. ‘For your information, Mr Whitney,’ she said icily, pushing him away from her, ‘I have slept alone every night since my arrival here.'

‘Why?'

‘W—why?’ she echoed in a puzzled voice. ‘I don't know what you mean.'

He shrugged. ‘Kenny would have been more than willing to share your bed. And I'm sure that some of my men wouldn't be averse to it either,’ he added mockingly.

She flushed her indignation, her near hysteria of a few moments ago all but forgotten. ‘You keep referring to them as “your” men in that arrogant way,’ she snapped to hide how deeply he had wounded her with his assumption. She had heard all the old clichés about young widows since her husband had died, the most popular crudely being ‘once you've had it you can't do without it', but she had only ever had one lover in her life, and that had been Gavin. She hadn't been in any hurry to replace him on the intimate side of her life, and not being a very sensual person herself she hadn't found that too difficult. Unlike some people, she didn't believe life, and happiness, revolved around the physical.

Kyle raised dark brows at her criticism. ‘Shouldn't I?'

The argument was ridiculous, she could see that. They were stuck here, possibly for several days—she refused to think it could be any longer than that!—and to argue about such a trivial matter when their lives could ultimately be in jeopardy was fruitless. ‘This is stupid.’ She stood up with impatient movements, the blanket securely in place. ‘We're alone out here, and somehow we have to survive, any unpleasantness between us is pointless.'

For a moment he seemed to hesitate, then he too stood up. ‘I'll put something on your forehead.'

‘It doesn't really hurt—–'

‘No senseless arguments, remember?’ he mocked, as he opened the full medicine cabinet kept in the kitchen area.

She stood perfectly still while he administered to the cuts on her forehead, doing her best not to look up at him, although it wasn't easy in the circumstances. A faint aroma of male aftershave clung to his skin, and with this came the realisation that he already had more than just a five o'clock shadow. Obviously he was one of those men who needed to shave twice a day.

‘You'll have to grow a beard,’ she said inconsequentially, blushing as he looked down at her with taunting grey eyes. And for someone who rarely blushed she was doing it a lot lately. Somehow this man had the power to make her feel incredibly young, gauche almost. It wasn't a pleasant sensation.

‘I guess I can stand that if you can,’ he drawled.

‘What do you mean?’ she frowned.

He finished putting the adhesive tape in place. ‘I've been told that a beard doesn't suit me.'

She felt sure that it wasn't so much that it wouldn't suit him; it would just cover too much of that ruggedly handsome face, would make him look almost demonic. ‘I can stand it,’ she muttered, turning away. ‘I'll get our dinner now.'

She was aware of those watchful grey eyes on her as she worked, was unaware of how attractive she looked with her hair soft about her makeupless face, the blanket revealing more of the perfection of her body than she realised—or would have wanted had she known.

Now that they had decided not to argue they seemed to have little to say to each other, the impromptu stew she had made from the tinned meat and dried vegetables eaten in silence.

‘You really can cook,’ Kyle said appreciatively after downing two platefuls. ‘We could do with you out here at branding time, Charlie is the worst cook I know.'

She gave the ghost of a smile at his attempt at light conversation, exhaustion making her slow to react to what she knew was a standard joke at the Double K. Everyone made derogatory remarks about Charlie Peterson's cooking, but Shelby had a feeling it was done more out of affection for the old man than from any real truth. ‘Your aunt told me she taught him herself,’ she said as she cleared the table of their crockery, putting it in the soapy water she had boiled.

Kyle grimaced. ‘That statement should speak for itself.'

Helen Whitney was one of the best cooks she had ever met; now she knew the jokes were only teasing. Kenny's mother ran the ranch-house with an iron will that matched that of her nephew, and Shelby had come to like her very much.

‘Let me do this,’ Kyle gently moved her away from the sink, his expression searching. ‘You look as if you're about all in. Get some sleep now, everything will seem different in the morning.'

She certainly hoped so, because everything seemed very bleak right now! Maybe tomorrow she would have the strength and mental capacity to ask him exactly what he had meant about Kenny. Right now she just wanted to sleep.

She did exactly that as soon as her head touched the pillow, heavily at first, and then the dreams began to intrude, dark frightening dreams of the snow falling in on her and burying her, bringing her to startled wakefulness. She looked about her dazedly for several minutes, despair washing over her as she realised where she was.

One of the lamps still burnt low in the cabin, and glancing at the man who slept across the room from her Shelby knew it wasn't for Kyle's benefit. He lay on his back, the face that could often be harsh and derisive smoothed out to look incredibly handsome, although the darkness of the beard that was already forming gave him a rugged look. His quilt had fallen back almost to his waist, his deeply tanned chest covered with dark wiry hair. It was a long time since she had seen a man even partially naked, and it was even more disturbing that Kyle Whitney should now be that man.

She turned away abruptly, feeling almost guilty for noticing the hard planes of his body, the skin a deep mahogany colour. She was in love with Kenny, and the attraction of his cynical cousin didn't matter to her!

And yet her gaze was drawn again and again to him, sleep eluding her. It sounded as if it were snowing again outside, and her heart sank at this further obstacle to them getting away from here, a closed-in feeling enveloping her until she began to move about restlessly.

‘Can't you sleep?'

She turned sharply at the sound of that soft rasp, blinking as she saw Kyle Whitney was now turned on his side as he leaned on his elbow looking across at her. She moistened her lips nervously. ‘I'm sorry if I woke you,’ her own voice came out in a whisper too.

‘You didn't,’ he dismissed. ‘Does your head ache?'

‘My head…?'

‘Where you fell and knocked it earlier,’ he explained patiently.

‘Oh. No,’ she shook her head. ‘I—It feels fine.'

‘Then why aren't you asleep?'

How could she tell him it was because the sight of his nakedness had disturbed her! God, she must be going insane, or snow-crazy! She disliked Kyle Whitney, and he despised her, so how could she possibly be physically disturbed by him?

‘Shelby?'

She shivered as she turned to find narrowed grey eyes on her. ‘I—It was the storm outside,’ she invented.

‘Was it?’ He clearly wasn't convinced.

She gave him a startled look. Surely he hadn't been able to guess the intimacy of her thoughts a few minutes ago? ‘I don't know what you mean?’ she frowned.

Kyle sat up completely, wrapping a blanket around his waist as he moved to throw more logs on the fire, his expression harsh as he stared down into the leaping flames.

‘Kyle?’ she prompted at his prolonged silence.

The eyes he turned on her were flinty with contempt. ‘Are you finding it lonely already?’ he rasped.

All colour left her face as he once again verbally attacked her. ‘I told you,’ she was breathing erratically, ‘I'm used to sleeping alone.'

‘But you aren't alone, are you,’ he pointed out as he crossed the room towards her.

She blinked as his meaning became crystal clear, realising how dangerous he could be in this frame of mind. ‘We don't even like each other—–'

‘Does that matter?’ he scorned.

‘To me, yes!’ she answered indignantly.

‘Why?’ He sat on the edge of her bed, so near Shelby could feel his body warmth. ‘I can assure you I'm much more experienced than Kenny is,’ he added derisively.

Shelby moistened suddenly dry lips. This was one way in which she had never thought of Kyle Whitney as being a threat, secure in the knowledge that he didn't like her. ‘Are you sure you aren't the one who's lonely, Kyle?’ she taunted to hide her fear. ‘For Mrs Judd?’ she added insultingly, the only occasions Kyle had left the ranch during the last two weeks having been on the evenings he visited the other woman.

His face darkened. ‘Sylvia happens to be the widow of my closest friend,’ he told her coldly. ‘I keep a protective eye on her, that's all.'

‘I'm sure you do!'

‘Chase would have done the same for me,’ he ground out.

‘In the same way?’ she derided. ‘Then it must indeed have been a “close” friendship the two of you had!'

She knew she had gone too far even as he reached for her, expecting to be shaken until her teeth rattled, instead finding herself pulled up against his hair-roughened chest, the quilt falling down so that her bared breasts were crushed against him, the nipples over-sensitive where she hadn't been touched so intimately in such a long time.

The colour flooded her cheeks as Kyle leant back to view her instantaneous reaction, his eyes darkening to black pools of desire. ‘Kyle, please—–'

‘You have beautiful breasts,’ he murmured as if she hadn't protested, bending his head to suck one of the pert tips into his mouth, his dark lashes fanned out against his cheeks as he became intent on arousing her with the sharp nip of his teeth and the moist caresses of his tongue.

Shelby's hands came up to push him away, but as the quick-fire excitement surged through her body her fingers curled into him in spasmodic pleasure. Always a sensitive part of her body, her nipples ached for the caress of that moist mouth, her breath catching in her throat as Kyle gave the other breast his full attention.

‘Like ivory velvet,’ he muttered against her skin, trailing a path of warm kisses down to her navel as he lay her back on the bed, his tongue, tasting her, exciting her. ‘But you're warm,’ he said softly as he moved even lower. ‘So very warm.’ His hand moved slowly from her knee to her thighs, gently parting them. His mouth traced circles on her skin.

It was madness, utter madness to let him continue, and yet this seemed to be a time out of time, almost a dream. And she didn't want to wake up, had never known such a wealth of sensual delight. Gavin had been a very gentle and considerate lover, he would never have dreamt of silencing her reluctance in such a blatantly physical way.

Gavin. God, if not for herself she had to stop this for him, out of respect for his memory, and the warm and loving relationship they had always had. By acting like a wanton she was not only being unfaithful to that memory she was also convincing Kyle that he had been right about her all along, that any man would do to share her bed in an emergency.

But even so it took some seconds for her to formulate enough strength of will to stop him, her body moving and reacting to his slightest command, opening to him as it had never done before, burning with a need to reach fulfilment.

But Shelby couldn't let herself reach that fulfilment, no matter how much she needed or wanted it, her fingers rough in his hair as she pulled him up to her. ‘I meant please stop,’ she lied, her pride already in shreds. ‘Please stop kissing me, Kyle.'

For a moment he looked dazed, then cold reality returned to the bleakness of his eyes, his mouth twisting as he looked down at her flushed nakedness. ‘But I didn't kiss you, Shelby,’ he pointed out softly. ‘Not here, at least,’ he touched her lips with a hand that smelt of her body.

Confusion washed over her as she realised he only spoke the truth. He hadn't kissed her mouth, not once had he acknowledged her with that intimacy. She had been a female body for him to arouse and caress, she as a person hadn't mattered to him, he couldn't have shown her that any more clearly.

He looked down at her with coldly merciless eyes. ‘Should I apologise for showing you I was right about you?’ he derided with contempt.

She swallowed hard. ‘No…!'

‘Don't look so stricken, Shelby,’ he moved back to his own bed, his expression mocking as she instantly pulled the quilt up over her nakedness. ‘I was merely saving you the trouble of trying your wiles on me now that Kenny has put himself out of the running.'

‘I—–'

‘You see I'm not interested in more than slightly used goods,’ he added sneeringly. ‘And certainly not a woman on the make like you are.'

Shelby was very pale, from the shock of her own actions as much as from his insults. She was about to marry his cousin, she deserved every insult he hurled at her about her morals! ‘You're so wrong about me,’ she began pleadingly.

‘Am I?’ His eyes looked her over coldly, making Shelby conscious of her tousled hair, languorous green eyes, and passion swollen lips. ‘Then what would you call what happened between us just now?’ he scorned. ‘An impulse?'

‘I don't know what happened just now!’ she blushed, knowing exactly what had almost happened. It had been so long for her, so very long, since a man had looked at her the way he had, since she had ached to be touched. But it shouldn't have happened with this man, should never have happened at all. ‘It doesn't mean that I want or expect anything from you—–'

He gave a harshly humourless laugh. ‘What could you possibly expect from me?'

‘I just told you, nothing—–'

‘Too damn right I owe you nothing!’ he rasped grimly. ‘I think I should warn you now that I don't react well to blackmail, no matter how charmingly it's presented.'

Shelby gasped. ‘I didn't—–'

‘It sounded suspiciously like it to me.’ He looked at her coldly. ‘I made love to you just now for one reason and one reason only, to prove to you that no matter what opinion you may have of what you're doing I know that any man will do for you. But I don't intend being Kenny's replacement, not in bed or in a monetary way. I realise this set-back with Kenny must have upset your plans somewhat, but it would take more than a little seduction on your part to make me offer you marriage.'

‘I didn't seduce you,’ she protested. ‘You were the one who came to my bed!'

‘After I found your gaze on me like a caress,’ he scorned. ‘You were begging for me to make love to you.'

‘No!'

‘Yes,’ he hissed. ‘But little mercenaries like you don't interest me in more than a fleeting capacity.’ His gaze flickered over her contemptuously. ‘I hope I make myself clear?'

‘You think of me as a one-night stand,’ she said disgustedly.

‘How aptly put,’ he derided with distaste. ‘I knew exactly what you were and what you were after before we even met,’ he added with disgust.

‘And that is?’ she prompted stiffly.

‘Surely it's obvious?'

‘I'd like to hear, nonetheless.'

He shrugged. ‘After the life you've lived Kenny must have seemed like a heaven-sent opportunity,’ he scorned. ‘He was young and alone, and far from home, an easy conquest for the lonely little widow,’ his mouth twisted, ‘Thank God he came to his senses in time!'

‘The life I've lived?’ she prompted an explanation, not understanding what he meant. As far as she knew her life had been nothing out of the ordinary. This man obviously didn't agree with her.

‘You're very young to have been left a widow to fend for yourself. I'm sure that when you married your husband you envisaged a long and happy life with him, maybe even contemplated having children,’ he added as if he doubted it.

‘Is that so unusual?’ she frowned.

‘No,’ Kyle shook his head. ‘But he had the inconvenience to go and die on you.'

‘That's a foul thing to say!’ she choked on her anger. ‘I loved my husband very much.'

‘The same way you love Kenny?’ he dismissed. ‘That sort of love isn't worth having.'

‘And what would you know about any sort of love?’ she accused insultingly.

His mouth tightened. ‘I know that a year after your husband's death, this man you're supposed to have loved, you were tired of trying to make it alone, of working in a hairdressing salon to support yourself—–'

‘I don't just work in the salon, I own it,’ she told him forcefully.

‘And I'm sure the profit you make just about covers the cost of your rent and costs!'

‘You don't know what you're talking about!'

‘I know that you saw Kenny for a fool, a fool who could give you back the life of relative ease you no doubt enjoyed with your husband. But don't take me for the same kind of fool, Shelby, because I can assure you I'm far from being that. Far from it!’ he repeated with feeling.

She knew that, what she didn't know was where he could have gained such an impression of her. Oh he had all the basic facts right, he just had the conclusions all wrong. And she didn't understand why. ‘Where did you get your information from?’ she asked slowly.

‘Some of it from Kenny,’ he shrugged. ‘The rest I pieced together myself.'

She wondered which parts were which, but was reluctant to ask him in the circumstances. ‘Then we both know where we stand, don't we?’ she said softly.

‘Yes!’ he grated.

‘Then we may as well go back to sleep,’ she yawned as if to add to her impression of tiredness, whereas in reality she had too much on her mind to fall asleep. ‘And hope we can get out of here tomorrow,’ she added hopefully, needing desperately to talk to Kenny, knowing that only he could supply the answers she needed.

‘I wouldn't count on it,’ Kyle muttered roughly.

‘Oh but I am,’ she said with heartfelt feeling as she turned on her side towards the wall, remaining that way, determined not to even look at him to see if he had fallen back to sleep.

Her thoughts were racing, dark unhappy thoughts as she remembered the conversation she had had with Kenny yesterday, a conversation that on reflection seemed to have turned her life about once again. She had thought Kenny understood at the time, that it hadn't mattered to him, but now she wasn't so sure. The facts that his family seemed to have about her, facts only he could have told them, seemed to conflict with reality, making her wonder why he had lied to them.

Worst of all, she was no longer sure her wandering off in the blizzard had been an accident!