But he pulled a little farther away, enough for her gaze to focus on his entire face. His mouth danced in a smile unlikeanything she’d seen on him before. His eyes lit, drawing out a giddy feeling in her chest.
His focus searched her face. “I don’t know if I should apologize for that. I don’t want to. But I shouldn’t take advantage of being alone with you.”
Her heart did another stutter at his words. Her hand still gripped his arm, but she moved it down to weave her fingers between his. “Don’t apologize.”
His grin widened, giving her a glimpse of what he must have looked like when he smiled before the crushing grief of losing his sister pulled him down. Now, nothing tainted the joy on his face. The warmth infusing her body spread through her heart. She’d played at least a small part in helping him find that joy.
He straightened, inhaling an audible breath then releasing it. He didn’t let go of her hands as he looked around, as though trying to remember where they were and what they’d been doing.
The book still lay in her lap, though the pages had flipped to an empty section. Part of her wanted to ask him to draw something else. But if the same emotions—and other sensations—still roiling inside her matched his, it might be hard for him to produce another such masterpiece just now.
Instead, she dared to lean into him, to rest her head on his shoulder. He was the perfect height, his broad frame padded by his fur coat. If her mind were more settled, she could sleep comfortably in this position.
But she wanted more of this man. Another kiss might be too much, as inflamed as her insides were. Yet any part of him would feed her desire. “Tell me more stories from yourlife. Either your time trapping or before, when you were a boy.”
She could feel him settling in, feel the brush of his chin on her hood. “Let’s see. There was the time Michelle and I were selling produce at the village market.” His voice rumbled through her ear, filling her with the most delicious sense of peace.
He followed that story with another about when Michelle nursed a neighbor through a life-threatening illness, his role being to find all the herbs and plants she needed. He seemed to have been an able assistant to his sister in all their adventures, but he always ascribed the glory to Michelle’s talent or wit or sweet spirit. His sister might have been wonderful, but not any more so than this man whose every breath had now sequenced to her own.
It wasn’t until they finally separated to their own bedding and she closed her eyes for the night that she thought to worry about her family. Were they tucked in their warm beds, or had they discovered her deception? Were they even now out searching for her?
Damien shifted the plate away from the fire so the meat wouldn’t dry out completely. Charlotte made cooking this way look so easy, and her food always turned out moist and full of flavor. Not dry and crusty like his attempts. At least he hadn’t burned it while he checked Gulliver.
He glanced at her still-sleeping form, the faint morning light casting shadows that softened her features even more than normal. She was so beautiful, his chest ached with theemotion she stirred. And that kiss ... His blood warmed again with the memory of it. Yet as much as her beauty and her touch drew him, it was every other part of her that gave substance to the respect and admiration growing so strong inside him.
She shifted beneath her furs, and his chest tightened. He wanted her to wake, wanted to see that gentle smile she revealed more often these days.
But he wasn’t ready to tell her the news....
How could Gulliver not be better after a half day of rest? Perhaps the injury was much worse than a stone bruise. The poor mule could barely walk this morning, so carrying on today wouldn’t be possible for him.
Which left Damien with a decision he hated. He couldn’t hold Charlotte back from returning to her village. Her family must be frantic by now. If she were his, and she’d left with only a note, he’d search the entire mountain wilderness to find her. And he’d do that long before the end of the time frame she’d given for her return.
She had to travel on today. He hated the thought of sending her alone, but leaving the mule behind in this vulnerable condition also seemed cruel. He might well be sentencing the animal to death by wolf attack or by some other predator. In this weakened state, he would be easy prey.
And Charlotte had proven capable. She could manage these last two days alone, most of it over landscape she’d already traversed once. He’d watched her fortitude and ability develop more each day. He would send her with his snowshoes and enough supplies, but not so many that she was overburdened.
Yet the thought of letting her go pressed so hard on him hecould barely breathe. Would she allow him to come after her when Gulliver recovered enough to travel? His only excuse would be to make sure she’d reached her village safely. And at the rate the mule was improving, that might be long after she needed help, if anything happened to her.
And what if somethingshouldhappen? He couldn’t live with himself if he sent her off alone to her death. Better her family worry and she be safe than for them to eventually find her frozen, lifeless body.
The image that thought conjured raised bile into his throat.
“Damien?” Charlotte sat up in her bedroll, concern wrinkling her sleepy expression. She must’ve seen the turmoil of his thoughts on his face.
He did his best to wipe the worry from his expression, allowing the sweetness of seeing her in these morning hours to rise above everything else. “Did you sleep well?”
Perhaps that was too intimate a question, certainly nothing a gentleman should ask a lady. But no gentleman would be camping out in the elements with a lady, either. They were in this condition out of necessity, and with this new awareness between them, he had to find the right balance between propriety and practicality.
Her face took on more color. “I did.” She sat fully upright and glanced around at the dawning horizon. “I’m sorry I overslept again.”
“You didn’t.” He turned his attention to the warm water and meat by the fire. “I made the morning meal, though you may wish I hadn’t.”
Her focus moved from him to the fire. “Thank you. How is Gulliver?”
It seemed she wouldn’t allow him to put off this hardconversation. Gripping the cup and plate he prepared for her, he stood and stepped around to kneel beside her. She didn’t even glance at the food and kept her gaze locked on his face. Searching out the truth, no doubt.
He met her look. “He doesn’t seem any better. The limp appears as bad as it was yesterday.” The worry that had lined her face so often yesterday now crowded back in, but it seemed to edge more toward pain and desperation this time.
