For the first time in a year, the corners of his mouth wanted to pull into a smile. “I’m out of coffee. That’s worth a trip to the fort.”
She dipped her gaze back to her work, and maybe a shadow tricked his vision, but it seemed like her mouth curved, too. “I’ve only had coffee once. One of our neighbors married an Englishman, and he took her to visit his family on theirwedding trip. She brought back several things for us to try, including coffee. I don’t know how anyone could enjoy such bitterness.”
Finally, a peek into her life, however tiny. “The taste grows on you.”
Silence settled again, but there seemed no animosity in her manner this time.
At last, she handed the pot to him with a spoon. “Meat porridge. My own concoction. I hope you like it.”
She pushed to her feet and started to turn away, as though she didn’t plan to eat with him.
“Shall I save you some, or have you already broken your fast?” He was pretty sure she hadn’t since she’d been kindling the fire when he woke.
She waved the question away. “I’ll eat from my pack. I’m going to see the stream once more, then I’ll be ready.”
As her soft footsteps faded into the darkness of the cavern, he replayed her words. Did that mean she was allowing him to travel with her? If he was ready on time, hopefully she wouldn’t object. Good thing he hadn’t set out traps yet.
He quickly downed half the porridge she’d cooked—a vast improvement over his regular fare—then set the pot aside for her to finish the remainder. He certainly wouldn’t be eating the better food and leaving her with cold jerked meat. By the time she returned to the firelight, he had his bedding rolled and all his gear packed, except the pot.
He nodded toward the porridge. “The meal was magnificent, and I’ve eaten my fill. The rest is yours.” He hoisted his pack over his shoulders. “I’m going up to get Gulliver ready. Come to the entrance of the cave and shout when you’re ready to climb up.”
She’d been eyeing the porridge as though she didn’t trust it, but when he mentioned the climb, her gaze jerked up to his.
He offered an encouraging nod. “It’s even easier going up than coming down, and we’ll tie the rope around you again.”
As he turned and strode down the cave passage, his mind played through the things he needed to accomplish before they set out. His thoughts continued to the landmarks he’d need to watch for going toward the fort.
Pain pressed in his chest. Was he really going to lead this woman into that den of raucous men? If only he knew why she traveled alone. He couldn’t imagine a reason that would justify the dangers, both in the journey and the destination. If he knew how to reach Laurent, he’d take her right back there. Back to a place of safety.
If only.
7
Charlotte wouldn’t have ridden the mule if her limbs didn’t ache so from yesterday’s trek. Gulliver seemed an obedient mount, traipsing through the snow beside Monsieur Levette. It felt wrong making him walk when the mount was his, but he’d insisted so strongly, and every part of her protested her first few steps through the snow.
Ahead, a small dark animal trotted out from the trees. Damien and the mule both saw it at the same time she did, and the mount jerked to a halt, cocking his long ears toward the newcomer.
Beside her, Damien stared at the creature, though it was far enough away she could only make out the relative size—about the height of her knees—but not what kind it might be.
“Well. My old friend.” His voice held pleasure she hadn’t heard in his tone. He started walking again toward the animal but didn’t seem inclined to tell her what the little fellow was or how he knew it.
Gulliver kept pace beside him, and Charlotte focused on the distant creature. As they neared, she made out the shapeof either a coyote or wolf. Probably the former because of its smaller size, though it could be a young wolf.
The figure stood motionless, watching their approach as they drew within twenty strides of it. Finally, Damien halted and turned to the pack he’d strapped on the mule. “Give me a minute. I have something saved for this guy.”
After extracting a chunk of roasted meat, he continued walking toward the coyote. It still didn’t move. Didn’t look prepared to bolt. Just stood frozen, like a majestic statue, the nape at its neck rustling in the breeze.
Damien stopped about five strides away, and the two stared at each other for a long moment. There seemed almost a conversation between them, definitely a mutual respect. At last, the man tossed the food in front of the animal.
After a last look, the coyote scooped up the bite, then spun and trotted back into the trees.
As Damien turned and started back toward her, something like a smile brushed his face. His features had been handsome before, but the way his eyes brightened, that flash of white teeth against his sun-darkened skin ... the effect on her insides was impossible to deny.
She dropped her gaze to the mule’s neck before the man came close enough to see her thoughts on her face. The last thing she needed was to give him a hint she might feel some sort of attraction. Not when they traveled together with no chaperone, far from any form of civilization. Those facts alone were scandalous enough.
It was vital she keep a healthy distance between herself and this new ... companion.
As they set off again, the chuff of the mule’s hooves breaking snow blended with the lighter swish of Damien’s steps. Alayer of ice hadn’t yet crusted the top of the snow, so both man and animal broke through the powdery flakes with each step.
