“What happened, Gavin? How are you hurt?”
“Patch tried to knock some sense into me. Caught me in the back of the head with a swift kick.”
“Let me see.” Rachel pulled him into an upright position, then leaned to one side and carefully probed the back of his head. Gavin grunted but didn’t flinch. He reached up behind him to follow her hand over the lump on the back of his head.
“I’ve Never been knocked stone cold before.” Their fingers met, his sliding over the top of hers. Both hands stilled.
Neither tried to pull away. Rachel felt the touch throughout her body. It spread through her veins, hot and churning, warming away the chill of the snowstorm and leaving her feeling as if a new kind of storm was battering her from the inside. Gavin turned his head. His gray eyes met hers, the force of his gaze strong enough to chase the wind from her lungs. He moved his hand away and rose to his feet.
“I guess the storm’s over. How long was I out here?” he asked as he steadied himself by holding onto the top railing of a stall. Rachel dragged in a breath of air and fought down the tide of emotions that raged within.
“You were gone over two hours,” she was finally able to respond.
“We were afraid something must be wrong, so I came looking for you. The storm hasn’t let up at all.” She stood and brushed the straw from her skirt, not daring to look at him again.
“You came out here through that blizzard?” He scolded her as if she was a child.
“Someone had to. We were afraid something was wrong.” Now she looked at him, her chin thrust up in indignation.
“And we were right.” Gavin grunted his displeasure as he turned to walk across the barn to the door. Reaching it, he picked up the length of rope hanging through it, then looked back at Rachel.
“I had it tied around my waist so I wouldn’t get lost. I told Dru to tie it off to the house once I signaled that I’d found the barn. That way we could follow the rope back to the house from here.” He tipped his head to one side. It seemed to be a silent acknowledgement that she’d done something right. But it didn’t last long. He looked away almost immediately. Placing his shoulder against the door and still holding onto the rope, he lifted the latch and tried to open the door. It barely budged, opening only far enough to let in a gust of icy wind and a flurry of snowflakes. Rachel moved forward.
“I cleared a pathway so I could open the door. It couldn’t be covered over already.” She stopped as he turned around.
“We’ll just have to wait it out. If we can’t get the door open when the storm stops, we can always get out through the loft window.”
“Through the loft?” Her voice came out in a small squeak.
“The snow won’t get that deep, will it?” Gavin gave a short laugh.
“Not this time of year, no. I’ll just lower you down with a rope and then follow after you. Nothing to it.” Rachel sat down on a nearby storage bin, her frantic heart causing the blood to pound in her ears. She turned her head so she could see the long ladder leading up to the loft and imagined an even longer drop down to the ground afterward. She swallowed hard as her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Outside, the storm raged on. Gavin closed the loft window. He’d never seen a snowstorm like this one, at least not so early in the year. You could expect them in January, but never in October. He headed toward the ladder, stopping on the edge to look down. Rachel was still seated on the storage bin, her arms hugging her body. Even from up here he could see her shivering. He knew she had to be plenty cold. Her dress had gotten soaked with snow as she’d fought her way through the drifts to get to the barn, and there was no fire to help dry her out once she got here. But she hadn’t complained once. He turned and lowered himself down the ladder. As his feet touched the floor, he looked toward her.
“No sign of it stopping yet.” She nodded, misery written on every inch of her pretty face.
“Come here,” Gavin said, motioning with his hand. She gave him a puzzled look.
“We need to warm you up. Come on.” She rose from the bin and moved toward him, her arms still folded tightly across her chest. When she reached him, he placed an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the stall holding Sabrina’s calf. He opened the gate, allowing them entry.
“Wait here,” he told her, then walked away. From the small tack room at the back of the barn, he grabbed several saddle blankets. On his return trip, he took the lantern from its usual high hook and carried it with him to the stall.
“Hold this,” he said, handing her the lantern. With his boot, he kicked straw into a pile in the corner, then leaned forward to make a nest in the center of it. He placed one of the blankets on the bottom, smoothing out the wrinkles as best he could before turning toward Rachel.
“Take off that wet skirt and toss it over the gate to dry,” he said.
“Your drawers will just have to dry on you.” Her eyes rounded, and her golden eyebrows rose on her forehead.
“Come on. We need to get you warmed up before you take sick. I promise not to look until you’re under the blankets here.”
“Mr. Blake, I can’t .. .” He took a step toward her. His voice was low when he spoke.
“Don’t argue with me, Rachel. I know what’s best. Look at you. You’re shivering so hard your teeth are about to rattle.” His hand closed over hers on the lantern handle.
“I’ll take this while you get out of those wet things.” When she tipped her head back to look up at him, he felt a sudden jolt in his belly. Everything tightened inside him. The desire to hold her, to kiss her, returned with a fury. His blood raced hot through his veins, stirring up a wanting that would take a will of iron to deny. The pounding in his head became a throbbing in his loins.
“Do as I say,” he said harshly, jerking the lantern free of her hand as he turned around. He filled his lungs with air, then let it out slowly as he fought for control. Most men would probably laugh at him. He had a wife who couldn’t satisfy his sexual needs and desires. He should be free to take release with another woman. But his word meant more to him than that. He’d promised to be Dru’s husband—and in Gavin’s book, that meant he’d promised to be faithful too. He heard the rustle of straw.
“Are you covered up?”
“Yes.” He turned toward her. Her legs were drawn up toward her chest and hidden beneath the two remaining saddle blankets. Her eyes seemed
wider and bluer than ever, her face pale even in the yellow glow of the lantern light.
“That’s better,” he mumbled as he hung the lantern on a hook just inches above her head. He turned up the flame as high as it would go, then sat down beside her, his left arm around her back.
“Come here.” He pulled her close against his side. The blustering wind whistled around the corner of the barn. A horse blew dust from its nostrils. Another stomped its hoof. The calf rose, turned in a tight circle, and lay down again, his soft brown eyes staring at the pair in the corner of his stall. Gavin felt the isolation creeping into his marrow. It was as if they were the only two people alive in the world. One man. One woman. Alone together. He felt the rise and fall of her chest. Was her breathing too rapid? He lifted his right hand and began rubbing the length of her arm, ostensibly to warm away the chill she’d taken. But he knew the truth was he just wanted to touch her, to go on touching her, to touch far more than he was able to through her heavy coat. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the stall wall and prayed for a little more self control. She hurt. She ached everywhere. But it was a different kind of pain from anything she’d ever felt before. It couldn’t be described. It was an emptiness, but more than that. It burned, like a fire in her veins, but was more than that too. She yearned to move closer to him, longed to pull away from him. She felt torn in a thousand different directions all at the same time. Rachel lost track of time. It could have been minutes that passed; it could have been hours. His hand continued to stroke her arm. She could feel his warm breath on her hair, could hear his heartbeat through his coat and shirt. He knows what I’m feeling. Her pulse quickened with fear and anticipation. If she should look up into his eyes, she knew with a woman’s instinct that she would see her own confusion and desire mirrored in eyes of gray. She longed to do just that. She longed to see what was written there, to speak aloud the things she was feeling. But she couldn’t. To do so would give them life. To do so would make them stronger, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. Not ever. Heaven help her, she had to get away from him soon. But still she didn’t move. She stayed within the circle of his arms, waiting out the storms—the one outside and the one within her heart. Silence. Rachel lifted her head from Gavin’s shoulder. She stared toward the door as she whispered, “It’s over.” He felt it too. Not just the cessation of wind, but an end to the right to hold her. He wasn’t ready for it yet. He didn’t want to release her. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to… His arm slid from her back.