The Wedding Arbor. Valerie Hansen

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       Chapter Two

      “Watching history on television does not prepare a person for this,” Sara shouted. “How in the world did the women cope in long skirts back then?”

      “They probably didn’t go brush-busting in the first place.” He lifted her feet off the ground as he pulled her up behind him on a rocky ledge. “We aren’t taking the usual trail. It’s too far that way. The sooner I get out of this blasted weather the better I’ll like it.”

      “How much farther is it?” She was breathless.

      “Just up this hill and through the little valley beyond.”

      Sara didn’t want him to let go of her wrist because she was afraid she might not be able to keep up without help. The ground beneath her ruined sandals was slippery. She’d lost her footing repeatedly. She’d barked her shins and torn her skirt on brambles and briars. Not to mention almost winding up impaled by a deadly-looking tree with thousands of three-inch-long thorns!

      “What happened to your dog?” she asked.

      “Knowing Samson, he’s bringing up the rear to make sure we both get home okay.”

      “Good. I’d hate to have anything bad happen to an animal that likes me so much.”

      Adam gave a hard tug and pulled her up beside him. They were balanced on a narrow rock ledge beneath the canopy of a gigantic oak. The leaves didn’t stop all the rain but they did offer a slight respite from the wind-driven torrent.

      “Yeah. I don’t understand that,” he said, scowling. “He’s supposed to treat his family like a flock of sheep and be really leery of outsiders.”

      “Guess he could tell I was friendly.” Sara looked up into her companion’s deep-blue eyes and wondered for an unguarded instant if she was crazy to have placed all her trust in the rugged-looking, taciturn stranger.

      Sensing her uneasiness, Adam softened his expression. “Look, lady. I promise I won’t hurt you. I really am trying to keep you out of danger and get us both back inside before we catch pneumonia.”

      “I know.” She gave him a sweet, trusting smile. “If I had to get stuck anywhere, I’m glad it was on your road.”

      His approachable countenance faded. His eyes darkened to the color of the foreboding sky. “I wish I could agree with you.”

      Sara wasn’t sure exactly what kind of home she had expected Adam’s to be. Certainly not anything as tiny as the cabin to which he led her.

      The house sat at the edge of an apparently large clearing. The farthest perimeters were obscured by continuing rain. Square and made of stacked logs, his home looked like something straight out of a history book. Except for electric lighting and, she fervently hoped, indoor plumbing.

      Adam led the way onto the porch, shook himself free of his slicker and stamped the loose mud off his boots. He turned to look down at Sara as if just now realizing who and what he had dragged home.

      “Looks cozy.” She managed a fairly convincing smile even though her teeth were chattering.

      “It is—for one person.” He paused at the door.

      Sara understood his reluctance to invite her in, given her disgusting, filthy condition. “Is there any way I can get the mud washed off my back before we go inside? I don’t want to dirty your nice cabin.”

      Adam’s expression was cynical. “I’m a bachelor. What makes you think the house is any cleaner than you are?”

      “Well, I…” She knew she was blushing but there was no way to stop. In spite of the man’s contentious attitudes and mercurial moods she kind of liked him. Which meant that his teasing affected her more than it normally would have.

      He took her by the shoulders and turned her around, checking the parts of her clothing she could only assume were as ghastly as they felt.

      “You’ll do,” Adam said. “Rain washed the worst of it off. By the time we both get clean and dry the place will be a mess, anyway. Come on.” He opened the door and ushered her inside, giving her a cautious but firm shove between the shoulder blades.

      Sara felt Samson try to scoot through the door beside her. Only Adam’s presence of mind and stem command kept the sopping-wet dog from joining them. “No. Out!”

      “Can’t he come in, too?”

      “You and I will dry him off later. After we get ourselves taken care of.” Adam paused and frowned. “That is, providing I can come up with enough towels.”

      Hugging her pack to her chest, Sara scanned the narrow, rectangular room. The place looked more like a hunting or fishing lodge than it did a house. There was a half-full dog dish the size of grandma’s Dutch oven tucked beside a long-legged, antique gas stove in the kitchen area. Next to the food sat a water bowl nearly as big.

      The remainder of the room seemed to be centered around a coal-black, wood-burning behemoth. It sat on abbreviated legs, silently radiating heat and looking just like a pudgy oil drum with cast-ron decorations.

      Sara СКАЧАТЬ