“Where are we?” she croaked.
“Thank God,” he said. “You're awake.”
She tried to wriggle out of his arms, but there was nowhere to go.
“Careful,” he warned. “You'll bring the roof down on top of us.”
“What roof?”
“I dug a snow cave. It was the only way to get out of the storm.”
Memories of the day before came rushing back full force, and she immediately became aware of his injured leg and the painful blisters on her feet.
“Is it still snowing?” she asked.
“I don't think so, but I'll go outside and make sure.”
She wanted to cry out when his arms unwrapped from around her and the warmth of his body left her backside. He kicked a hole with his feet and scooted out carefully. Moments later, he reached back in to help her out. “Come outside and see.”
Unnaturally stiff with cold, she struggled out of the small hole, but with his help a few minutes later she was rewarded with the gentle warmth of the morning sun on her face. Dawn was just breaking over the horizon, spraying soft rays of gold over a glistening carpet of white.
Lizzie sucked in her breath. “It's beautiful.”
“Aye,” Patrick said harshly. “But it could have been deadly.”
She turned to him, realizing that she had no idea how she'd gotten into that cave. The last thing she remembered was him picking her up and carrying her.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He turned to look at her, surprised. “For what?”
“For saving my life.”
His expression hardened. “I could have killed you,” he said stonily. “It's my fault you are out here in the first place.”
“You couldn't have known it was going to storm.”
“Nay,” he admitted. “Even with the unaccountably cold winters we've been having the past few years, 'tis early for a snowstorm of this magnitude. But I never should have brought you into this.” It wasn't the storm he was talking about. His eyes met hers. “I never meant to hurt you, Lizzie. I want you to know that. I hope one day you will be able to forgive me.”
Lizzie stared into those familiar green depths, searching for signs of deception but finding only sincerity. Her heart tugged, and she was plagued by the confusion of conflicting emotions. The experiences of the past few days had thrown her feelings into a turmoil.
He'd deceived her and lied to her in every conceivable way for a few merks of land. She should despise him. Part of her wanted to. Hatred didn't hurt.
But she couldn't ignore what he'd done for her—protecting her from his clan and battling his own brother to do so. He'd chosen her even when it would have been easier not to. These were not the acts of a cold, ruthless man. He might be an outlaw, but he was not without honor.
An honorable MacGregor. Was such a thing possible? Her family might not think so, but Patrick made her wonder.
Here, in the primitive, unforgiving Highlands, Lizzie felt as if she were seeing him for the first time, and it was impossible not to admire what she saw. This rugged, harsh landscape helped define him. In the hard angles of his handsome face and the granite strength of his body, she saw the beauty of the hard, uncompromising countryside. Like the sturdy heather on the hillsides, he was resilient. Like the power of a sudden storm, he could be deadly. And like the Highlands, he was tough to the bone. Hunted, with a bullet hole in his leg and little more than what they had on, he'd kept them alive.
If the past few days were any indication of the challenges facing his clan, it was a testament to their strength that they'd survived as long as they had. It also gave her a better understanding of the difficulties he faced as the leader of a broken clan—a clan without land.
Nor could she ignore the strange pull she still felt when she looked at him. Not just physical attraction, but something far deeper and far more elemental.
She wanted to believe that he'd cared for her, that it hadn't all been a lie. That she hadn't confused lust with love. That what they had was worth fighting for—even against the horrible events that had conspired to separate them. She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. “My forgiveness is important to you?”
“Very.” He gave her a long look, clearly debating whether to say something further. When his hand closed around hers, her chest gave an involuntary squeeze. With that simple connection, she felt the force of a far larger and more powerful one.
And she felt a little piece of the wall between them crumble. He was right: His actions were not those of a man who didn't care.
