Page 3 of Undoing His Innocent Enemy (Hot Winter Escapes)

‘Your name, tell me your name. Don’t sleep.’

Why did a bear want to know her name? And how come it could talk?

She couldn’t say anything, it hurt to speak. It hurt to even think.

She just wanted to sleep.

She heard cursing, angry, upset, reminding her of her father when he came home from the pub... So long ago now. Good riddance.

Don’t sleep or he will come back and call you names again...

But as she found herself bundled onto a raft and being whisked through the storm, the icy wind shifting into a magical dance of blue and green light, the twinkle of stars like fairy lights in the canopy of darkness over her head, a comforting rumble seeped into her soul and chased away the old fear of her da.

Then the brutal, beautiful exhaustion claimed her at last.

Logan Arto Coltan III rode the utility snowmobile into the underground garage of his home and slammed the heavy machine into park.

He swore viciously as he jumped from the saddle and raced to the flatbed he’d hooked up to load supplies.

‘Wake up,’ he shouted at the body lying on top of the boxes of canned goods and frozen meat he’d been transporting when he’d picked up the Mayday. Accidentally.

He never monitored the emergency frequencies, but the dial must have slipped after he had called his supply pilot.

Why had he answered the call? He should have ignored it. Why hadn’t he?

The person’s eyelids—the long lashes white with frost—fluttered open. Revealing bright young eyes, coloured a deep emerald green.

He felt the odd jolt of something... And ignored it.

Not unconscious. Yet.

‘Stay with me,’ he said, then repeated it in Finnish—just in case English wasn’t their first language—as he assessed the person’s size under their bulky outdoor wear. Around five six. Probably a woman, he decided, as he stripped off the outer layers of his own clothing. The garage was kept at nineteen degrees, so he didn’t overheat before removing his snowsuit to enter the house. But right now, he needed to be able to move, so he could get this fool inside.

Once he’d got down to his undershirt and track-pants, he headed to the garage’s small utility room and grabbed the first-aid box. Dragging off his last pair of gloves, he found the thermometer, shoved it into his pants’ pocket and returned to the trailer.

If this idiot had managed to give themselves hypothermia, he’d have to call an air ambulance.

He frowned, struggling to focus around the anger—and panic—that had been roiling in his gut ever since he’d answered the call.

Lifting the woman, he placed her as gently as he could over his shoulder. If she was hypothermic sudden movements could trigger a fatal heart arrhythmia. He toted her across the concrete space to climb the steps into the house. His home, ever since his grandfather had died ten years ago. A space no one else had ever entered while he was in residence.

‘Avata,’he shouted to the house’s integrated smart system, ignoring the roll and pitch in his gut as the locks clicked and he kicked the heavy metal door open with his boot.

‘Tuli päälle,’he added to instruct the fire to come on, as he walked into the vast living area. He set the girl on one of the sunken sofas that surrounded a stone fire pit.

The orange flames leapt up and reflected off the panoramic window that opened the luxury space into the winter landscape beyond, obscuring the night-time view of the forest gorge lit by the eerie glow of moonlight.

Safe.

He’d always been safe here, alone. But as he peeled off the woman’s layers of headwear, a tumble of wavy reddish-blonde hair was revealed and the strange jolt returned, making him not feel safe any more.

Focus, Logan. You had no choice. It was bring her here or let her die.

She was still staring at him, her eyes glazed but somehow alert, in a way that immediately made him suspicious.

What the hell had she been doing on his land? So far from the nearest centre of civilisation, alone, as night fell?

‘How do you feel?’ he asked as he reached into his back pocket to grab the thermometer.

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