Run Wild (Escape with a Scoundrel) - By Shelly Thacker Page 0,67
fell into ours.” He nodded toward the blackened carcass impaled on a spit over their fire.
She glanced at the rabbit, then back at him. “You’re right. We have plenty to worry about. And as soon as you’re strong enough to move on, we’ll worry about it.” Lying down again, she sighed wearily. “But do I have to think of all that right this minute?”
Nicholas muttered an oath. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He had wanted to press on the instant he realized how much time they’d lost. But he wasn’t strong enough for a grueling trek through the woods. Not yet.
Which aggravated him more than anything else. The pain in his shoulder had ebbed to a dull throb that he barely noticed, but the fever had sapped his energy, left him weak when he most needed to take action. The feeling was intolerable. It seemed as if his own body had joined the conspiracy against him.
And he already had enough to contend with: time quickly running short, marshalmen somewhere hunting for him, no weapons on hand.
And this stubbornly cheerful lady chained to his ankle.
Who vexed him in ways he didn’t want to think about.
Nicholas picked up the flask by his side and drank a long swallow of clear, cool water, wishing it were fiery, bracing whiskey instead. “You’re right. Why worry?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s only a matter of life and death. Ours.”
She gazed up at the night sky, her expression still unconcerned. “My point exactly. Don’t you think that if we were meant to die, we would have died in that cave? Or drowned in the whirlpool? Or been caught by the dogs on the riverbank?”
“I don’t believe in fate, Miss Delafield.”
“Neither do I,” she said adamantly. “There aren’t any guarantees in life. I know that. Believe me, I know that.” She closed her eyes, and her voice was softer when she continued. “But we didn’t die. We’re alive. For now, for this moment, we’re all right. Isn’t that enough? Do you always have to look at the dark side of things?”
“I’m not looking at the dark side. I’m looking at the only side. The realistic side.”
“Fine.” She raised her head and shot him an icy golden glare. “You go right ahead and be realistic. I am going to lie here on the grass and listen to the wind and look at the stars and be grateful and happy that I’m still alive. Because for the last few days—”
“Seven days—”
“For the last seven days I thought I might never see any of this again!” She lay down once more, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m rather enjoying getting reacquainted with the moon and the stars, and when the sun rises in an hour or so, I’m going to enjoy that, too. And I would greatly appreciate it if you would shut up and stop ruining it for me.”
Nicholas bit back a hot retort. He normally wouldn’t sit still while anyone chastised him—least of all a woman. But arguing with this lady was clearly a waste of breath and logic.
He took out his frustrations by tossing pebbles toward the stream, testing the strength of his injured left arm.
Silence fell between them, as heavy as the chain that bound them together, as vast as the night sky overhead, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the liquid rush of the waterfall a few yards upriver.
A warm breeze ruffled his hair. Somewhere off to the left, a small animal ambled through the underbrush. The stream burbled over smooth stones as it flowed past, and silvery pinpricks of starlight reflected off the shallow waters.
If not for the ocean of troubles facing him, he thought sourly, still tossing pebbles, he might have found this little glade peaceful. Even pleasant. There was a great deal a man could make of a moonlit night, a soft carpet of grass, and a lady in a good mood...
He switched to his right hand, trying to cut short that line of thought. Ideas like that could prove dangerous to his health.
He didn’t have time for any kind of pleasure. He had to concentrate on getting his strength back and getting the hell out of here.
“We’ve been given another chance,” Miss Delafield said, suddenly breaking the silence. “And I think we’re going to be all right.”
He paused in mid-throw. “By what logic do you reach that conclusion?”