Part 15 (1/2)

He wore an amused grin and, well, she just couldn't stop herself. She slapped his face. Hard.

Surprise flashed through his eyes.

Good. How dare he sneak up and scare her like that? She made a move to slap him again and he easily caught her wrist, stopping her cold.

”That is not the welcome I'm looking for.”

His gaze had grown serious and reality sobered her. He really was here. He was okay.

”Oh my G.o.d! I'm so glad to see you!” she cried and began laughing as relief poured through her entire body. She was safe again.

”A slap to my face indicates pleasure?” He looked confused and tired and pale. He was also breathing way too hard. Alarm snapped through her. He was clutching his right side. Blood oozed from between his fingertips. More blood streaked down the outside of his right thigh.

”It's nothing,” he muttered as she caught his gaze. His eyes shone with pain.

Reaching out, she grabbed his hand and forced it away from his side.

She gasped as a wave of shock slammed into her. He had a six-inch-long gash across his side. The wound appeared an angry red and the flesh swollen.

f.u.c.k! s.h.i.+t! d.a.m.n!

”What happened?”

”No time to explain. The storms are upon us. We must hurry,” he said gruffly and pressed his hand once again to his side, wincing as he did so.

He grabbed her hand, his fingers intertwining tightly with hers. Without another word, he began hauling her along beside him in the river. By the grim expression on his face and the increasing blaze of lightning and crackling thunder overhead, Kayla knew better than to oppose him.

It had been good to see her. Too good. The instant Taylor had spied her rounding the river bend ahead of him, something warm and welcome had s.h.i.+fted through him.

Although pain sliced into his side with every step, he'd pushed himself to travel faster. It had seemed like forever before he could clearly see her.

Her tall, curvy figure had been a beacon to him. And her silky tresses, even without suns.h.i.+ne, had s.h.i.+mmered in the gray dawn. As he had watched her generous hips sway with her every step through the water, antic.i.p.ation at holding her again made him smile as he'd never smiled before.

This female made an unforgettable picture to him. Even now, as fever heated his body and pain speared his side and blackness hovered at the edges of his sight, happiness poured through him at finding her.

When he pointed out the first clearing to the right, the rain began, the wind also. It howled until the trees on the nearby sh.o.r.es crashed in a dark dance of ecstasy, some limbs cracking while others snapped off and fell to the ground with deep thuds. With each crash, Kayla gripped his hand tighter.

The rain pelted them, running over his heated body in rivulets, soaking his breechclout. It grew hard to see as rain fell into his eyes.

Her nervous expression showed she too was worried about the weather, yet she said nothing and kept them at a good pace. If he hadn't caught up to her, if she hadn't been here with him, he would have given up, curling beneath a tree to wait out this storm. He most likely would have drowned in the rain or died of the fever.

What kept him going was his need to get her to safety, and then to her brothers so they could search for the missing woman.

When they finally came to the second clearing, he could barely lift his legs. In the haze of excruciating pain claiming his senses, he was barely aware she'd swept an arm around the good side of his waist, keeping him from falling flat on his face into the water.

He stopped at the river's sh.o.r.e, swaying, trying to blink away the rain and the blueness claiming his eyesight. His arms were too heavy to lift.

”Footprints...need to...clear...no trail,” he managed to gasp.

”The rain will take care of it,” she shouted above the wind. Yes, the rain. It was good for something. It would erase their footprints. Why had he not remembered that?

”Where is the shelter?” she screamed.

He tried to orient himself once again, blinking away the rain spilling into his eyes. It was cold but did little to cool his fever.

”It is well hidden,” he replied. It took a great effort to lift his arm, but he managed, pointing straight ahead, hoping it was the right direction.

”Three hundred...paces inward...then four hundred...paces...right,” he said. He struggled to keep his thoughts straight and hoped he had remembered correctly.

The rain came down harder and the wind brutally pummeled them as they left the river and stumbled into the clearing. Here, without the shelter of the nearby trees, the storm increased in violence and he prayed none of the forks of lightning would strike them before they found the shelter.

Finally, through the haze of pain and past the sheets of silver rain and flailing white birch trees, he saw it. He hadn't realized he'd sunk to his knees until Kayla wiped the rain from his eyes and hunched down in the tall wavy gra.s.s beside him.

She looked so beautiful with her wet, tangled hair straggled around her face. Her cheeks were red from the cold, her eyebrows thin and perfectly arched over a set of sparkling blue eyes. Eyes full of concern.

For him?

”We have to keep going. We have to find the shelter. You can't rest here.”

She was yelling at him and tugging his arm. Lightning flashed and thunder rocked the ground. She cringed then looked around the meadow uneasily.

”We're here,” he mumbled.

”Here? There's nothing here, Taylor. Just gra.s.s!” she cried, throwing her hands up in the air with obvious frustration.

Did she not see it?

Perhaps the fever raging through him was causing him to see things that he wished? Had he imagined the cl.u.s.ter of white birch trees? Was the shelter even still standing? Perhaps previous windstorms had blown it over?

He and Jarod had built it as solid as possible, but they hadn't been this way for quite some time.

She wiped more rain from his eyes, allowing him to see again.

”Come on. Get up! We have to keep looking.” She pulled on his arm harder, but he shook his head.

”Look,” he muttered, hoping she would hear him.

With great effort, he lifted his arm and pointed again toward the shelter.

”What is it?” she asked as she gazed around.

”Home,” he replied. The sweetest word the Hero brothers had ever taught him. ”It is home, sweet home.”

The guy had to be delusional. Home, sweet home? Out here? In the middle of nowhere? There was nothing but an empty field of swaying green gra.s.s and silver forks of lightning zip-zapping through the rain around them. There was no home.

In the area where he pointed were so many trees. Huge, towering, white birch trees. Their green leaves literally s.h.i.+mmered in the violent wind, waving at her and Taylor to hurry on over. Then she spied an odd shadow. Wiping at the wetness blurring her eyesight, she squinted and s.h.i.+elded her eyes from the rain with her hands. The shadow looked like a silhouette. It blended so perfectly with the trees she doubted she would have seen it on her own.

The cabin had been placed behind an alcove in the clearing, unseen from the river if anyone should pa.s.s. She led Taylor closer.