Gray, Ginna (16 page)

The statement had the effect of a bucket of cold water in her
face. Lauren shot out of the sleeping bag as though it was suddenly on fire.

In less than fifteen minutes they were on their way.

The strenuous hike the previous day had left her sore and bone
weary, but Sam made no concessions. He kept up the same punishing pace, leaving
her no choice but to do the same.

An hour or so of steady hiking worked out most of her aches and
pains and she got her second wind. Though far from easy, the trek began to seem
less arduous than it had the day before. She actually began to feel proud of
herself for the way she was coping.

All right, so she was still dependant on Sam to keep her alive,
she admitted to herself grudgingly. That galled her, but there was no denying
it. Or any way around it. Without him, she wouldn't have a clue. But, by
heaven, at least she was no helpless wimp.

A couple of hours after daybreak they descended into a high
valley. Sam stopped and surveyed the area from the edge of the trees. Except
for a few spruce and bare aspens and boulders dotted here and there, the valley
was a long expanse of open snowfield, crisscrossed by a few animal tracks.

It occurred to Lauren that all the mountains looked much the same
to her. For all she knew, they could have been wandering in a circle.

"Please tell me you know where we are," she said.

"I know." He pointed toward the end of the valley.
"There's a pass between those two mountains. On the other side is another
valley, lower than this one and more accessible from the highway that runs
between Durango and Silverton. There's at least one vacation cabin there, maybe
more by now. It's been a couple of years since I hunted in this area. If we can
reach that cabin before dark, we'll spend the night there."

"If we'll be that close to a highway, why not keep going
until we reach it?" Lauren questioned. "We might be able to hitch a
ride." She'd never hitched a ride in her life, but she was willing to give
it a try. "You said yourself that those men probably gained on us last
night. If we stop for the night again, they may catch up."

"First of all, I said the cabin was more accessible to the
highway. That doesn't mean it's close by or easily reached. In the winter,
unless you hike or ski, the only way in and out of that valley is by snowmobile
or helicopter. Anyway, we don't have a choice. Haven't you noticed? There's
another storm coming in from the west."

"What?" Lauren's head snapped around toward the
direction he'd indicated, and a fresh surge of fear rippled through her. A line
of low-hanging dark clouds engulfed the distant mountaintops. And it was
heading their way.

"We'll have to hole up somewhere, and so will they," Sam
continued in his usual unperturbed voice. "Only I mean for us to do it in
comfort this time. While those bastards are freezing their asses off, we'll be
in a cozy vacation cabin. C'mon." He headed out, motioning for her to
follow.

"We'll keep to the trees," he said over his shoulder.
"It would be quicker to cut straight across the valley, but we can't
chance being caught out in the open with no cover."

By noon it had started to snow, but Sam wasn't displeased.
"With any luck, the snow will cover our tracks before those guys get this
far. That could buy us a little time."

By the time they worked their way around the valley perimeter it
was midafternoon, and Lauren was feeling the effects of two hard days. Though
the valley floor was only a thousand feet or so below the pass summit, once
they started climbing she began to flag in earnest.

Her legs hurt, her feet hurt, her back hurt, and if she wasn't
mistaken, she had blisters on both feet. She was so exhausted her head felt as
though it were packed with cotton, and she barely had the energy to put one
foot in front of the other. And she was cold to the marrow of her bones.

The higher they climbed, the colder it became and the harder it
snowed, shrouding the mountains in a veil of white, yet Sam pressed on with
surefooted confidence. Lauren dragged after him, every step misery. By the time
they reached the pass summit and started down, she was staggering with fatigue.

Sam watched her out of the corner of his eye, his concern growing.
She's on the verge of collapse, he thought, noting her paleness and unsteady
gait.

"You've been doing great. Don't fizzle out on me now,"
he cajoled. "I know you're tired, but it's just a little farther. The
cabin is at the base of this slope. You can make it."

"Don't...worry 'bout...me. I'll...I'll make it."

"Sure you will. You're one tough la— Whoa!"

Lauren tripped and would have fallen if he hadn't caught her.
"Easy, there. My heart won't take watching you fall again." Taking
the duffle bag from her, he hooked it over his shoulder, then put his arm around
her waist and pulled her close. "Here, lean on me."

"Not...nes-sary. I'm okay," she insisted, her voice
slurred with fatigue. "I can make...it...on my own."

"Sure you can," he drawled. "Look, being
independent is a good quality, but now's not the time. You're just making this
harder. So give it up, because we're doing this my way."

"I'm...fine. I don't need..." Her cheek came into
contact with his chest, and with a moan she closed her eyes and leaned against
him.

"Damn fool stubborn woman," Sam growled between clenched
teeth.

Though Lauren made a valiant effort to stay awake and on her feet,
he half carried her the rest of the way.

The storm intensified into a raging blizzard as they picked their
way down into the valley. The wind screamed like a banshee. Snow fell in a
solid white curtain that shifted and swirled in the blow like a frenzied white
dervish.

Sam struggled through the maelstrom with Lauren clamped to his
side, cursing and blessing the storm at the same time. If it was snowing this
hard on the other side of the pass he knew there was a good chance their
pursuers had lost their trail. But even if they hadn't, he doubted that they
had reached the pass summit as yet, which meant they would be forced to stop
and wait out the storm in a makeshift shelter.

So would he and Lauren if they didn't find that cabin.

They had barely reached the bottom of the slope when the gloom
faded to darkness, making the going much more difficult. Sam headed in the
general direction of where he remembered seeing the cabin, silently praying
that he wouldn't miss it in the darkness and swirling snow.

He was about to give up and build a shelter when he spotted the
structure through the shifting snow. "Yes!"

When they reached the A-frame he propped Lauren against a porch
post and unlaced her snowshoes, then his. Then he took a small tool from his
wallet and squatted down on his haunches in front of the door to pick the lock.

"There. We're in."

Lauren blinked several times and struggled to focus her eyes.
"G-good," she said through chattering teeth.

It was only slightly warmer inside the cabin and dark as a tomb.
Sam dropped the duffle bag and backpack onto the floor and pulled out the
flashlight and shined it around. The cabin was small—a main room, which
contained a kitchen and eating area on one side and sitting room on the other,
what appeared to be a bedroom and bath at the rear and a sleeping loft
overlooking the main room. Sam was relieved when the beam of light revealed a
good-size wood-burning stove in one corner of the main room and, next to it, an
overflowing wood box.

"Great. I'll start a fire. Just hold on a little bit
longer," he said to Lauren over his shoulder as he fed wood into the
stove's firebox. "This place will warm up in no time."

Within minutes Sam had a good fire going. "There, that should
do it," he announced, brushing off his hands as he rose. "These
stoves put out a lot of heat You'll start to feel—"

Turning, he saw Lauren curled up in a ball on the sofa, sound
asleep.

Not even the warm glow from the fire could disguise her pallor or
the exhaustion in her face. As long as her lashes were, they couldn't
completely hide the dark circles beneath her eyes. As Sam studied her he felt
something shift and expand inside his chest.

He squatted down beside the sofa and trailed his fingers over her
cheekbone and jaw, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Okay, little
one. After the day you've had, I guess you're entitled," he whispered.
Then his mouth quirked, and he gave a little snort "Day, hell. You've had
a godawful week."

But she'd weathered it like a champ and done what she had to, he
admitted. Better than a lot of strong men would have. And with only a minimum
of complaint, which he also had to admit, was justifiable. For all her
diminutive size and fragile appearance, Lauren Brownley was a strong, capable
woman.

"Well, c'mon, little one. Tonight you're going to sleep in a
real bed." Rising, Sam scooped her up into his arms and, flashlight in
hand, carried her into the bedroom at the back of the cabin.

The cabin showed a woman's touch, he realized, shining the
flashlight around—floral bedspread and matching curtains, a mountain of ruffled
pillows piled against the head of the large brass bed, dried flower
arrangements and candles all around. That meant there had to be some women's
clothing somewhere.

With a sweep of his arm, he dispatched the mound of pillow to the
floor. After laying Lauren down on the bed, he lit two candles and opened
dresser drawers until he found one containing a stack of folded nightgowns.
There was a nightgown in the duffle bag out in the main room but this was
quicker.

The gown he'd grabbed was high-necked and long-sleeved, made of
white flannel with tiny pink roses embroidered on the yoke and trimmed in pink
satin ribbon. It looked like something his granny would wear and was about as
sexy as a flour sack, but it would keep her warm.

With quick efficiency, Sam removed Lauren's parka, boots and
socks, frowning at the blisters on her feet. Damn. Those had to hurt, yet she
hadn't said a word. He shook his head and went to work on the sweatshirt, wool
pants, then both sets of long johns. Through it all, she slept on without so
much as stirring.

When Sam had purchased clothes for Lauren four days prior he had
deliberately chosen cotton briefs, the kind that old ladies wore, and plain,
serviceable bras. He had assumed that just imagining her in them would be a
turnoff, but when he had her stripped down to nothing but those uninspiring
undies his breath caught. He stared, mesmerized. He had seen women in bikinis
who didn't appeal to him this much. She was so small and dainty and so
beautifully curved.

Muttering a string of oaths, Sam rolled her onto her side and
unhooked her bra. He tried not to look directly at her breasts, but even an oblique
glimpse of those small, perfect mounds made his mouth go dry for a second.

Then he noticed the angry red marks on top of her shoulders and
others encircling her torso. After four days of constant wearing, the bra had
chafed her skin, he realized.

Grim-faced, Sam snatched up the afghan from the foot of the bed
and tossed it over her, then picked up a candle and stomped into the adjacent
bathroom, where he rummaged around until he unearthed a first-aid kit. He
returned to the bedroom and applied the antibiotic cream to her blisters and
red marks with as much detachment as he could muster. Then he put the nightgown
on her and tucked her into the bed beneath the pile of thick quilts. Lauren
sighed and burrowed her cheek deeper into the pillow.

Sam stared down at her, his chest so tight it felt as though it
were being squeezed in a vise. What the hell was the matter with him?

Annoyed with himself, he turned abruptly and strode back into the
main room. After stoking the fire he checked the window and door locks and for
good measure stacked canned goods from the kitchen in front of both front and
back doors and hung pots and pans by strings from the curtain rods in front of
each window.

He discovered that there were two double beds in the loft. Good,
he told himself. He would sleep there. For tonight, at least, there was no
reason for them to share a bed. Even if the impossible happened and those three
goons managed to get this far in the storm, at the first sound of forced entry
he could be down the stairs in seconds, ready to protect her. They both needed
some space, anyway.

Yet, when Sam finished setting up the security measures, he
stripped down to his skivvies and crawled into bed beside Lauren, and when she
sighed and turned to him in her sleep he put his arms around her and pulled her
close.

Sam rested his chin against the top of Lauren's head and stared
into the darkness. He was beat, but his troubled thoughts wouldn't let him
sleep. From the moment he set eyes on this woman he had been fighting the inexplicable
attraction he felt for her. He had tried to dislike her and had treated her
with deliberate contempt and rudeness, but the gut-wrenching feelings refused
to fade. Even when he'd believed that she was Giovessi's plaything, he'd still
wanted her— and not merely sexually. There was something about her that made
him itch to hold her in his arms and claim her for his own. He'd never felt
that way about any woman before, and it brought a flutter of panic to his
chest.