She forced herself to tie off the knot, making a double—no a triple knot, then stepped back and studied her work.
“He’s not going anywhere.” James repeated the words, but this time his voice dragged.
She glanced over at him, slumped against the cabin wall where he’d collapsed after helping her drag Vincent to the post. His face had gone gray beneath the grime and blood, his breathing labored. The splint on his leg had broken, and it was impossible to tell how much damage had been done to the bone beneath. Dark stains spread across his trouser leg that she desperately hoped were mud and not blood.
James. Her heart swelled with so much love for this man, she might not be able to contain it all.
She’d spent years convincing herself she didn’t deserve this—that no man would love her enough to set aside his own happiness for hers. That she didn’t deserve a man who would risk everything to save her, who would break himself trying to reach her in time. Who would look at her not with blame or disgust, but with a love so fierce it broke down every one of her defenses.
“We need to get you warm.” She moved toward him and lowered to her knees at his side. “And that leg?—”
“I’m fine.” The words came out rough. Unconvincing.
He wasn’t fine. Not even close. But arguing with him would waste precious energy neither of them had to spare.
His eyes met hers, green and clear despite the pain etched into every line of his face. The way he looked at her—like she was something precious, something worth loving—made tears blur her vision.
“How did you find me?”
He shifted against the wall, grimacing with the movement. “As soon as we realized you were gone, Robert, Thomas, and I went after you.”
Her heart clenched at the thought of all three brothers charging after her through the cold, snowy wilderness. “You shouldn’t have come. Not with your leg?—”
“Don’t.” His voice came out sharp enough to make her flinch. He softened his tone immediately. “Don’t tell me I shouldn’t have come for you. There’s nowhere you could go that I wouldn’t follow.”
The comfort of those words settled into her chest, warm and solid despite the bitter cold around them. She reached for his hand, her fingers still trembling as they closed around his.
His palm was ice against hers. Was he not wearing gloves? Actually, neither of them were. When had she lost hers? During the struggle with Vincent? She couldn’t remember.
“We need to get you warmer.” She looked around the wretched cabin, cataloging what little resources they had. The fire in the tin stove still burned, throwing weak light and weaker heat into the frigid space.
“There are blankets in the wagon. We should fire a shot, too, to signal my brothers if they’re still close enough to hear.”
“I’ll take care of it.” She pushed herself to her feet, her legs protesting the movement. Every muscle felt bruised and battered from the struggle with Vincent, and her throat still ached where his fingers had squeezed.
She scooped up the rifle where it still leaned against the wall by the door. Her fingers closed around the metal, the feel of it awkward in her grip. She’d never fired a gun before—never had the chance to learn with Vincent’s endless smothering—but she couldn’t tell James that. Not when determination had replaced some of the gray pallor in his face.
“Fire twice in the air away from the cabin.”
“Two shots.” She nodded and turned toward the door, forcing her feet to carry her back into the frigid night.
She managed to fire the rifle, though her ears still rang from the blasts and her shoulder ached from the way the gun slammed back into her.
It wasn’t hard to find the wagon and retrieve the blankets. The horses seemed safe enough still hitched to the wagon. Not comfortable perhaps, but not in danger or pain. She had no warm barn or mound of hay to feed them. They all just needed to settle in and wait—until Robert and Thomas came…until morning…she had no idea what would come first.
James opened weary, pain-filled eyes when she sank down beside him again.
Seeing him like this made her own eyes sting. “Is there anything I can do to ease the pain? Maybe…would a whiff of that chloroform help?” Though her insides twisted at the thought of being left alone here if Vincent woke while James lay in a drugged sleep.
He kept his head resting back against the wall, but rolled it side to side. “Just sit with me so we can both get warm.”
His best idea yet. She scanned the room once more to make sure she didn’t need to attend to anything else before settling in for the night. The fire was stoked, and Vincent still slept where he was tied.
She settled in beside James, spreading one blanket over their legs and the other covering their upper bodies. He slipped an arm behind her, pulling her close to him.
She turned in so she could rest her head on his shoulder. He wrapped both arms around her, tucking her as close as their bodies would allow. Her forehead pressed into the curve of his neck, her breath warming the small space between them. Little by little, his warmth, the security of being held in his arms…
She’d never felt so safe—so loved—in her entire life.
