But she had to. With the lower ceiling, Damien might have simply glanced inside and assumed nothing was there. She had to be certain.
Crouching, she extended the candle farther in front of her and stepped inside. She’d only gone five strides when the rear wall appeared ahead. After moving the light in all directions to make sure there wasn’t another side tunnel, she took a final glance around the small space, then shimmied back to the bigger room.
Once she could stand up straight, she released a long breath. He’d been right. Relief sagged through her. Something about that tiny tunnel had heightened all her worries. Even the bear nest against the back wall in this main cavern now seemed easier to stomach than the smaller space.
Squaring her shoulders, she marched back up the slopeto where light from Damien’s fire glowed. Had he seen her moment of fear? With the candle illuminating her face, he likely had. She would ignore that temporary weakness, and maybe he would do the same.
Damien stood as she approached, but he moved toward the mule. The animal remained where she’d left him, his silhouette outlined by the white of the snow through the entrance behind him. Perhaps he’d calmed enough to be led nearer the fire, away from the wind.
Damien stripped the saddle and packs from the animal’s back and carried them to the fire. She gripped Gulliver’s lead, and he obeyed her command to walk forward completely out of the wind. “Do we have anything he can eat?”
“A bit of corn. I’ll pull it out in a minute.” He’d untied their packs and was now unstrapping their furs.
Her heart clenched, even as she reminded herself that she’d moved the chalice from the roll of furs to her pack. And it was tucked inside the protective pouch. If he saw the chalice, would he recognize its value? Of course, in its damaged condition, the cup might not be worth taking at all.
Still, she’d best keep it hidden to eliminate any temptation. Not that she suspected Damien was the kind of man who would steal, but she couldn’t risk anything else happening to this precious treasure. She had to get it to the fort, find an artisan skilled enough to repair it, then return to Laurent before the celebration. She couldn’t let herself think about what she would have to do if no such metal engraver could be found at Fort Versailles.
She strode to her pack and grabbed it up, then moved around to the opposite side of the fire from Damien. She should start cooking a meal. The weather outside made italmost impossible to know what time it was, but her hungry belly rumbled at the thought of food.
While she worked, Damien brought in more logs, heaping a large pile near enough to the fire that the wood could dry from the heat. Gulliver munched the feed Damien gave him, then wandered around the small area near the entrance while Damien disappeared outside to work on the bear carcass.
At last, the meal was ready, and she called out to let Damien know. He stepped into the cave a moment later, shaking snow from his hands and coat. “Finished most of what has to be done tonight, but I’ll go back out later for the rest.”
As she scooped out servings of meat with savory sauce, she studied the mule from the corner of her gaze. “How long have you had Gulliver?”
Damien settled on his furs, then looked toward the animal, his gaze softening. “About six months. I bought him when I knew I planned to take up trapping full-time.”
Not long, then. She’d watched man and animal interact throughout the day, and they’d developed a bond even in that short time. Damien had also earned a bit of trust from the coyote they’d met that morning.
She’d heard animals could read people better than another human could. If that was true, perhaps he was more trustworthy than this evening’s events made him appear. Just because the man took unnecessary risks didn’t mean he wasn’t honest.
But that still didn’t mean she would trust him with her own safety.
9
After Charlotte handed Damien his plate of food, she couldn’t help but study him as he took his first bite. His eyes fell shut, and his face took on an expression that drew her. Pleasure. She’d not intended to continue watching him, but the curve of his mouth as his eyes opened, that glimmer of appreciation shimmering within them, those were hard to look away from.
When he finished chewing, he straightened and met her gaze. “Miss Durand, I’ve never met a woman who could cook fare like this over a campfire.”
The warmth resonating in his voice sent a flush through her. She dropped her focus and took up her own bite. How did one answer a compliment like that? She settled for a shrug and a quiet thank-you. She was limited in supplies and cooking pots here, but she’d been cooking over a fire all her life. They’d only had a cookstove for the past two years. And part of her still preferred a simple fire.
They ate in silence for several minutes, and she could feel each time Damien settled his gaze on her. With just the two of them, she needed to accustom herself to his watching. Itmust be the newness of him that made her so aware of his every movement.
“You’re a hard one to get to know, Miss Durand.” His voice broke the silence, his words drawing her gaze up sharply.
What did he mean by that? How exactly did he want to get to know her?
His expression softened. “I only meant you’re very quiet. Not talkative like most women, especially not about yourself.”
She forced her shoulders to relax as her mind worked through what he mightnotbe saying. Were the women in the rest of the world so forward, prattling on about whatever caught their thoughts? That image didn’t appeal in the least. She did tend to be quieter than many of the other women in Laurent, but she’d found great value in listening.
Still, she didn’t want to be rude to him. He’d been kind and respectful from the very beginning, far more than common decency required. She could give answers that were careful enough that she wouldn’t offer information that would endanger herself or Laurent.
She kept her manner casual. “What would you wish me to talk about?”
Damien raised his brows. “I don’t know. You have family back in Laurent? I’m assuming you’re not married, or your husband would have never allowed you to travel unaccompanied.”
Never allowed? It was a good thing she wasn’t married, then, for the thought of a man forcibly commanding her actions riled. She did her best to keep her expression civil. “I have a father, an older sister and her husband, and a younger brother. Also an uncle.”
