“I lit the fire,” he protested, nodding at the roaring flames in the wood burner.
“Again, you had a convenient pile.” She took a roll of bandage from the first-aid kit, carefully pulled up his right sleeve, then got him to hold the stick along the length of his injured arm. Tenderly, she wrapped the bandage around the makeshift splint, her fingers soft on his skin in contrast to the hard unyielding stick. If his mind hadn’t been full of white-flashing pain, he might have even enjoyed himself, and paid more attention to the stirring at the base of his stomach. Darcy got to the end of the bandage and tied it tighter than maybe necessary, almost as though she was reading his mind and setting him straight. She pulled out a packet of pain killers, popping two pills free from the blister pack.
“Luckily they’re still in date,” she said, rolling his sleeve back down over his splint. “Not even someone as impudent as you needs a touch of pain-killer poison to go with their hyperthermia and a broken arm.”
He took the pills, tossing them into his mouth.
“Water?” he said.
“Did your mother never teach you how to say please?” she asked.
He swallowed the pills dry.
“No, she was too busy teaching me how to be successful,” he replied. That was a lie, his mother had always taught him that money was the least important of life’s worries. Devlin sighed, feeling suddenly sad and exhausted, wishing more than anything that he could have a dose of his mum’s words of wisdom right now. “Look, arguing is no good for anybody. We need to find some food, then figure out a plan.”
Darcy walked to where she’d left her coat and pulled a couple of protein bars from the pocket. Devlin almost smiled. Maybe she wasn’t such a bad person to be stranded with after all. She offered him one and he took it, but he didn’t open it. Darcy crouched down in front of the fire, laying their wet clothes out in front of the flames and then stretching her delicate hands out to warm her fingers enough to tear open her own bar. He was struck by how beautiful she looked there, the soft firelight dancing on her skin reflected in her big, brown eyes. Her face was soft, yes, but there was a steely determination in her features that was surprising — not to mention attractive.
She must have felt him looking because she turned to him and scowled.
“What are you looking at?” she said, brushing her hands down her face. “Have I got crumbs on me? Is that better?”
“No,” he replied, a smile growing on his lips. “Just wondering why you’re sitting there instead of searching the other rooms.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she rolled her eyes at him, taking his words for a joke. He’d spent so much of his life being Devlin Storm, the arrogant billionaire, with people fearing his reactions, that being with Darcy was a new experience, one he knew he couldn’t get too used to. He looked away from her, staring out of the window. The sky was growing even darker now as evening settled in, and the storm showed no sign of slowing down. He hoped the snow would stop soon, otherwise there really was a chance the cabin would be buried by morning. The helipad lights would already be invisible.
“Do you enjoy being an arrogant prick?” Darcy asked, matter-of-factly. “Is it something you do for fun? For sport? Do you add it to your CV when you’re boasting about your achievements?”
Devlin didn’t reply, because if he ignored her, then he could ignore the niggling doubts that were circling his mind like flurries of snow. He didn’t enjoy it. He hated it. He hated the way that people looked at him when he was like this. Not the celebrity hunters, of course, who expected, even wanted, the attitude, but regular people. They all looked at him like they would happily throw him off a cliff, and knowing that made him feel sick.
Not that he would ever share those thoughts with Darcy.
“Mymum taughtmea lot of things, too,” Darcy went on as the fire crackled behind her. “She taught me that there is no such thing as a small act of kindness. Even the smallest gesture can mean everything to someone if they need it.”
He sighed, turning back to the fire. Her mum sounded like a wise woman, the same way his had been. Hadn’t she said something similar to him once, recently, in the days before she’d died?Gentleness and kindness will make our homes a paradise upon earth. He could see her saying it now, from the bed she had spent most of her last six months in. She’d been so proud of him, of what he’d achieved, but so disappointed too because of everything he’d given up on his way to the top.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, speaking quietly to his mum. Darcy must have heard him, though, because she seemed to relax.
“Oh,” she said, as if she had never expected those words to come out of his mouth. “Well, it’s just worth thinking about. How’s your arm feeling?”
The painkillers had knocked the worst of the pain away, leaving just a dull ache.
“Better,” he muttered. “Thank you.”
“A sorryanda thank you,” she replied. “Those painkillers must have been stronger than I thought.”
He glared at her, then saw that she was smiling. It lit up her face as if the sun had risen inside the little living room. He laughed softly.
“It must be the shock,” he said. “I will retract my thank you and my apology in the morning.”
Darcy managed a laugh too.
“You look cold,” she said. “Do you want to come closer to the fire?”
He shook his head, but the truth was that the chill was seeping into his bones again. He had no doubt that he was in shock, and the best cure for shock was warmth and comfort and rest. Darcy must have read his mind again because she pushed herself to her feet. Even dressed in baggy trousers and a moth-eaten old sweater, she still had a magnetising look about her that made his heart lurch into his throat.
“Wait here a moment,” she said. “I’ve got an idea.”
Chapter 8