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“Then let's go.” He got to his feet.
Reluctantly she followed, battling a weary unease in the pit of her stomach. Lifting her chin she looked up the snowy slope—and up, and up. Before her was the most dreadful climb to safety. Her breath caught in the hollow of her chest as she felt her stomach heave then plummet to the bottom of her feet.
Glancing down, it was only then that she realized she was minus shoes. It had been the fear coursing through her veins, which had her totally disregarding the numbing sensation taking over her toes. They were already beginning to turn a faint purple-blue after being exposed all night long, and were now well on their way to frostbite she was sure.
She looked up at her rescuer who had already began the tedious ascent. There was no way she would complain. What if he followed through with his threat to leave her behind? Biting down on the pain, she forced herself to follow him. Every step felt as if a thousand prickly thorns pierced her delicate skin. But, thankfully, the numbing sensation eventually overtook and in doing so withheld the freezing temperature of the snow below.
Aggravated, he turned back. “What's taking you so long?”
She attempted to move her feet faster but, instead, stumbled over their limp condition grasping a tree limb as she did. Fear gripped her as she looked over her shoulder and down the steep slope below. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of watching her fall to her death. If it took her all day, she would make it up the gorge and at her own pace.
“Go ahead,” she told him with forced confidence, which truthfully couldn’t have fooled even her. “I'm going to take it slow.”
From her distance she could see him frown, then unexpectedly, retrace his steps toward her. She waited until he reached her side. His face was a hard rock of suppressed irritation, but the annoyance in his voice was very evident. “If you needed help, why didn't you just ask for it?”
“Because I'm perfectly fine. And, besides, I didn't think—”
She was rudely interrupted when he suddenly roared, “Where the devil are your shoes?”
Shifting uncomfortably on her frozen feet, she said, “In the car.”
He looked absolutely thunderous. “Why the hell didn't you tell me?”
“Because.” Her voice faltered. “I thought you might leave me behind.”
The storm etched furiously across his ruggedly good looks, began to unexpectedly turn a faint pink. With a jerk he turned quickly away, dropping down on the nearest bolder and began pulling off his boots.
Laura's eyes widened in shock. “I can't take your boots!”
“I wasn’t giving them to you.” He snapped back, shooting her an irritated glance, then looked away to add more subduedly, “They are far too big for you. My socks should help keep your feet warm until we get to the top.” At her look of contention, he said, “My own feet will be perfectly warm in my boots.”
“I wasn't going to say that.” Stubbornly, she stood her ground. “I'm quite fine and don't need your socks or your assistance—”
He sprung at her. “You ignorant fool! You would rather lose your toes to frostbite than accept my help?”
The unexpected sight of his temper ignited a tiny flame of fear in her. “I-I didn't say that—”
“Come here!” He grabbed her non-too-carefully and thrust her on to the bolder he earlier occupied. Then, angrily, he reached for her feet and raised them up for inspection and cursed under his breath. Laura didn’t have to hear the words to know they were aimed at her.
Without warning he began to vigorously r
ub her feet until at last the ugly purplish hue began to fade, replaced by a warm pink flush. That task completed, he reached for his discarded socks and proceeded to pull them over her tiny feet. They were sizes far too large but the sudden warmth they provided was heaven sent.
Laura raised her eyes and looked at him. “Thank you. That feels much better.”
He didn't say a word. Instead he got to his feet, bent down, then contemptuously swung her into his arms.
Taken aback, Laura instinctively grasped his neck. It took a full five seconds before she thought to argue. “This is not necessary—”
“Quiet.” He looked straight ahead, his face completely blank, except for the revealing taut lines around his mouth as he carefully scaled the slope before him. With the added burden of a woman in his arms.
Chafed, she turned her eyes away wondering what she had done to make him so angry. Her view fell upon the rocky wall of the gorge and like a jolt from her nightmare, she was faced with the reality of the situation. Impulsively, she clutched Dexter tighter and sucked in a cowardly gasp.
“Shouldn't have looked away.” His voice was oddly calm as he rebuked her. “You know what they say, never look down.”
Laura turned back to him, momentarily struck dumb from the lack of scorn in his voice. Always full of anger, she didn't think it could be healthy. She wondered what made him that way and if he had always been so full of antagonism. With surprising assuredness, she knew he hadn't.
“I'm surprised you remembered my name.”
