Page 18 of A Mountain Man Christmas

“Thewhat?”

“Never mind. Are you sure that thing can hold our weight?”

He took his time before responding. “I think so.”

“Youthinkso?”

“You should be fine as long as you don’t look down.” An irresistible smirk tugged at his lips.

She shot him a withering stare. “Thanks, Tristan. That makes me feel so much safer.”

“I was counting on that,” he told her. “Let’s not wait any longer. We have no idea how close Angus and his men are. The last thing I want is to have to face them while we’re so close to that chasm.”

They continued walking. Tristan couldn’t help noticing that Lyla’s pace was a little slower than before. The chain stretched taut between their wrists as they moved, and he had to slow his steps for her to keep up with him.

“How much farther is Ariadne’s house from here?” she wanted to know.

“Quite far,” was his reply as they arrived at the bridge. “Let’s cross.”

They stepped onto the bridge, which creaked loudly under their combined weight. Tristan thought he heard Lyla let out a gasp. He stared ahead. The bridge was about fifty feet across, a set of old wooden planks stretching across the abyss, supported by thick ropes. Beyond the bridge were more trees.

He’d crossed this bridge before, multiple times. So why were the hairs on the back of his neck rising now?

He glanced over his shoulder. There was no one after them. No one he could see, at least.

A chill settled in his stomach, but he continued moving.

Lyla held on to one of the ropes as they moved. “Why do you live so far from your sister?” she asked him.

She was talking to distract herself, he realized. This woman was more uncomfortable than she was letting on, and Tristan had to admit, so was he. Lyla kept her gaze riveted on the twin support columns at the other end of the bridge.

“Tristan.”

His expression must have turned sour then because she suddenly asked, “Is there bad blood between you and your sister?”

“Our blood runs pure,” he said, his chest swelling as he spoke.

Another series of creaks rose into the air. They were nearing the middle of the bridge.

“No, you idiot.” She actually chuckled—a surprisingly sweet sound that filled his ears like a gentle wind. “I meant, do you have an issue with Ariadne?”

He frowned at that. “Have you ever been told that you ask too many questions?”

She merely shrugged. “I like to be informed about whatever I can. Besides, I probably wouldn’t need to ask so many questions if you weren’t so—ahh!”

One of the planks suddenly gave way. An ear-splitting scream erupted from Lyla’s lips as she slipped into the gap that had appeared where her feet had been. Before Tristan had time to process what was happening, she fell.

“No!” he cried.

The hand clutching one of the ropes tightened its grip, leaving her suspended, her feet flailing over the chasm. Tristan’s gaze traveled past her to the broken plank; it tumbled helplessly through the air, sinking deeper into the dark depths of the void below. Tristan’s breath froze in his throat. If Lyla fell, it would be a long way down.

“Help!” Lyla shrieked, her dark curls sweeping across her face. “Help me—please!”

For the first time since he’d met her, the fierceness had completely vanished from her widened eyes, replaced by panic and horror. What’s more, he could see his own fear reflected in those eyes. His chest constricted as he stared at her flailing form.

She would not fall. He was going to make sure of that.

“I’m going to help you, Lyla!” he said. “Don’t look down.”

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