Page 4 of By Firelight

He stood up. “Let’s sit by the fire.” With the stove turned off the kitchen was getting chilly. She didn’t move immediately, and he raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to carry you?”

She lifted her chin, her cute little nose in the air. “Of course not.” She got to her feet, clutching the blanket like a lifeline, and made her way to the sofa.

Despite a strong urge to join her there, he stationed himself away from temptation in an armchair on the other side of the coffee table. She was flustered, he could tell. Her cheeks were bright red, and she was avoiding his gaze, her fingers picking restlessly at the fringe on the blanket.

Now that the immediate danger was past, he allowed himself to enjoy the novelty of having a woman in his rural retreat. He propped his feet on the coffee table, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. “So why weren’t you ready to go back? Isn’t the week of Christmas kind of an odd time to be away from home? Do you need to call family and let them know you’re okay?”

She bent her head. “No,” she sighed, her teeth mutilating her bottom lip. “Not necessary. But I’ll call Daphne and Mimi later and let them know where I am. They’ll be freaking out when they hear the weather report.”

For a brief moment her expression revealed a bleakness that bothered him. Was it his mention of family? Unable to keep his distance, he went to her and scooted down on the sofa, sitting close but not quite touching. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m being too nosy, and you’ve had a rough day.”

She scrubbed a hand over her face. “I’m perfectly fine.”

He smiled. “I believe you. You’re tough, I can tell.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. “Collapsing on your doorstep was an anomaly. I can take care of myself.”

He held up his hands. “I was being serious. Not everyone would have survived getting lost in the woods in a snowstorm. My cabin is at least a quarter mile off the AT. I’m not sure how you managed to find it.”

“I saw a light through the trees. I decided it was my only hope. I kept walking and walking, and every time I wanted to quit, I forced myself to focus on the light. It sounds a little overdramatic, I know—”

“I’m glad I was here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I only arrived yesterday.”

They sat in silence for long seconds, each realizing how close she had come to death. Maddy sniffed, and he reached in his pocket for a handkerchief. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She blew her nose. “You want to know what I thought about when it got really bad?” Her voice was so soft, he had to strain to listen.

“Tell me,” he urged, his tone equally low.

“I hated it that I was going to die without ever having been in love.”

Her bald statement hung in the air between them. Grant cleared his throat, at a loss for words. What could you say to a pronouncement like that?

She went on, apparently unconcerned with his silence. “Of course, that’s assuming there’s any such thing as love.”

He cocked his head, surprised by the depth of cynicism in her voice. If he’d been a betting man, he would have pegged her as a dyed-in-the-wool romantic. He took one of her hands, playing with her fingers. “You don’t really mean that.”

She half-turned, her expression defiant. “Have you ever been in love?”

He opened his mouth and then shut it. Damn, she had him there. “No,” he said reluctantly. “Not really.”

She shrugged. “I rest my case.”

He twisted a braided gold ring on her right hand. “How does a woman your age not believe in love?”

She pulled her hand out of his grasp, tucking it beneath a fold in the blanket. “Six months ago I would have told you my parents were a shining example of love for the long haul—”

“But . . . ?”

She bent her head, her hair obscuring her face. He was beginning to think that little move was intentional.

He reached for a stack of mail on the table and pulled a rubber band from a magazine. Without asking for permission, he gathered her long, thick hair at the nape of her neck and secured it. He tipped up her chin. “But?”

Her chin trembled just the tiniest bit. “After thirty-five years of marriage they decided they don’t have anything in common.”

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