This man was so much more special than any she’d ever known—than any she could imagine. His strength, his gentleness, the way he expended everything he had for others . . . and, of course, the way his smile curled through her, bringing every part of her to life.
What if she lost him forever?
But if he was the one God intended for her, wouldn’t He make sure they weren’t separated forever? Still, the thought of turning over control of something so importantto another—even to God—caught the breath in her throat. What if God said no to Damien as the man meant for her? The possibility made it hard to breathe.
Lord, I want to trust you. I’m not sure if I can. Give me the desire to place this in your hands.
Damien had been sketching out a map in his book for her, and now he gently tore the paper out and stood. He still studied the image as he strode to her. Her pack was ready, and they’d already strapped the snowshoes on her feet—his snowshoes. Maybe she could hold them hostage until he came to Laurent. If only snowshoes contained that power.
When he stopped in front of her, his presence felt so much larger than before. Perhaps because he came nearer than he used to. Before that kiss. A barrier between them had been broken down, allowing them to test out this new closeness. Perhaps it was best she was leaving. Evensheknew they were playing with fire to be alone in this vast wilderness.
He extended the paper to her, his eyes finally meeting hers. “It shouldn’t be hard to find your way with this. The landmarks are easy to spot.” As he spoke, his throat worked, and his gaze never left hers. Maybe he was having trouble focusing on the map, too.
She took the paper and managed a thank-you, then tucked it into her coat. She would have a great deal of time to study it soon, but now might be her last chance with this man who’d so quickly won her heart.
He reached out and cupped her arms, then ran his hands down to take up her fingers. He lifted both hands and joined them at his mouth as he pressed a kiss to the backs of her gloves.
She wanted more, wanted no barrier between them. Buteven this small touch brought the sting of tears once more into her eyes. She’d been holding them back the entire time she prepared to set out, but her strength was waning.
Damien’s own eyes glistened, though she couldn’t be sure if that was truly extra moisture or her own blurry vision. But when he spoke, his voice graveled with a gentle intensity. “Please don’t take risks. If you think you’re in danger or lost or if anything goes wrong, come back to me.”
His words brought a smile even through the pain. “Youtell me not to take risks? You who stand your ground as a bear charges instead of running like a sane person?”
A smile curved his mouth, though it didn’t conceal the sadness in his eyes. “My life isn’t worth nearly as much as yours.”
Her jaw dropped open. How could he possibly think that? Not only was he created by God and cared about immeasurably, but he mattered toher. More than she was ready to put into words.
And since she couldn’t use words, she reached up and took his face in her hands, pulling him down to show her feelings in a way that wasn’t so hard to define.
He seemed as hungry for the kiss as she was, cradling her in his arms and melting their mouths together with an intensity that connected them. She could feel his fear, his craving to go with her.
She responded with her own mixture of worry and the chaos of the unknown that haunted her. If only he could comenow.
But he couldn’t. And she understood why.
At last, he pulled back far enough to rest his forehead on hers. He gripped her upper arms, a touch that both kepther from moving away and steadied her. In truth, without his solid touch, her knees would’ve melted during that kiss.
As their breath mingled in the icy morning air, she did her best to work up the strength to break away. If she didn’t set out soon, she might never leave.
She needed one more touch, and she didn’t dare another kiss, so she moved in closer and rested her head on his shoulder. As he wrapped his arms around her, surrounding her with his strength and safety and solidness, the tears finally came.
When she tore herself away, she didn’t look at his face. She wouldn’t have made out his features anyway through the moisture blurring her vision. She simply reached for her pack, hauled it over her shoulders, and turned toward the west.
The day proved more grueling than Charlotte expected. She’d been riding Gulliver much of the time during the past few days on the trail, so she’d forgotten how hard it was to walk through the snow. For hour upon hour.
Without Damien’s map, she might never have reached the lake, and even with the clear landmarks he’d drawn, it was still well after dark before she glimpsed the familiar snow-covered waters. She could’ve camped before that spot, but being there made her feel more protected. She certainly didn’t plan to climb down to the cave without his rope to secure her, but this place held so many memories. Its arms wrapped around her a little like home, or at least like a comfortable blanket.
Without too much effort, she found the protected area where Damien had tied the mule the last time they’d been here. This would do for shelter.
As she gathered wood for the fire and enough branches to place around her for better protection from the wind, her mind drifted to Damien as it had all day. She never would have known how to set up a suitable camp without him, especially with the ground covered in so much snow. That first night, she might have frozen to death if not for the way he insisted she come into the cave.
Looking back through their time together, he’d been so protective, so gallant, saving her even when she refused to be saved—or didn’t know she needed help.
What was he doing now? Nestled beside the campfire, no doubt. Would he pull out his sketchbook and draw? Maybe since he’d begun to take up his pencil again, he might turn to that pastime once more. Would he draw another animal? Or maybe a person. Her heart skittered at the thought that he might create her likeness. But she pushed away the selfish idea.
Perhaps he’d attempt the Lord’s Supper, although it seemed like a futile effort until he saw the damaged chalice. Then he would know the entire scene and could practice the details he needed to fill in.
When she’d eaten and occupied her time with everything she could think of, she curled up in her bedroll. Despite her exhaustion, sleep was long in coming.
