She heard another footstep, this time closer. Gripped by panic, she started to run. She cried out as pain shot through her ankle, and stumbled forward, almost losing her footing. The footsteps gathered in pace, the very earth beneath her feet seeming to vibrate, and she broke into a sprint.
Then a large hand caught her arm. She screamed, but the hand yanked her back and slammed her against a hard object. She struggled to break free, but an arm snaked around her waist.
“Let me go!” she cried, but her assailant made no move. She tore at the arms holding her, but they remained firm, neither tightening nor loosening their grip. They merely waited in silent patience, as if her captor knew she would tire eventually.
And he—or it—was right. Gasping for breath, an ache forming in her chest, Olivia’s struggles weakened and, sobbing, she grew limp.
“Shh…”
The warm breath of a whisper caressed her neck, and she lifted her gaze and froze.
It was her husband.
Jaw bulging as if he gritted his teeth, he regarded her through hooded eyes. His brow was furrowed into the frown he permanentlywore, but rather than anger in his eyes, she saw fear.
Then she blinked, a film of moisture covering her eyes. What a fool she was! As ifhe’dbe afraid, while chasing her down like a hunted animal!
She resumed her struggles, but he remained firm, his expression unchanging, body unyielding. Then, slowly, he turned and nodded to the path. She blinked once more, then looked ahead.
Her heart plummeted at what she saw.
Not more than three feet ahead, the path disappeared. The ground fell away in a sheer drop to a mass of dark water that boiled and swirled some fifty feet below, forming spray that danced over jagged rocks.
Olivia curled her fingers into her husband’s sleeve, clinging to his solid form. He stepped backward, slowly, until they were clear of the edge. Only then did he release her.
He gestured with his hands, and she shook her head, unable to temper the tremors in her body.
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t understand you.”
He pointed to the cliff edge, then repeated the gesture.
“I don’t understand!” she cried. “Why won’t you speak to me? Or is the notion of such a thing even more repulsive than the notion of being married to me?”
He flinched and shook his head. Then he gestured more slowly, pressed his hand to his heart, and pointed to the cliff edge once more.
“Are you saying I was a fool for placing myself in danger?”
He shook his head again and held his hands to his heart.
“Or…or that you feared I might fall?”
He nodded, then drew a finger along his throat.
“You feared I might die?” Olivia glanced toward the cliff edge, then the understanding that had sparked in her consciousness the moment she saw the river at the bottom of a sheer fifty-foot drop pushed to the forefront of her mind.
Had he not caught her, she would have fallen to her death.
She convulsed with nausea. A huge hand caught her sleeve, but this time she did not struggle as he drew her to him, holding her against his chest, his heartbeat pulsing faintly against her ear. A sob escaped her lips, but he remained still, the warmth from his big body seeping into her.
As her sobs subsided, he released her, then offered his hand. For a heartbeat, she hesitated, glancing up at him. But his eyes held no anger, nor judgment, only a plea. He gestured to the path leading back, and, understanding his meaning, she nodded.
The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile, but the smile morphed into a grimace as she stepped forward and stumbled against him with a moan of pain. He lifted his eyebrows in inquiry.
“My ankle’s a little sore,” she said.
His frown deepened, then, in a swift, smooth motion, he scooped her into his arms as if she weighed no more than a mouse.
“No, please! I can walk.”
