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“Only if we be her choice for dinner.”
The arms around her body released her as Sam moved further away from her into the darkness. “Get some sleep, Ivy.”
Hearing her name from his lips sounded odd. And too cozy. She almost preferred ma’am. Or even Freckles. “I’m not sleepy.”
“Sleep,” he ordered. “I don’t intend to carry you through the woods, and I will not waste another day.”
“What if the bear comes back?”
“She won’t.”
“Ye don’t know that for certain. What if she does?”
“Then I’ll stay awake.”
Ivy frowned. “Won’t ye be needing your sleep?”
He sighed. “Make your choice. I stay awake or we become Thanksgiving dinner for the local bear family.”
It wouldn’t matter whether Sam slept or not, Ivy knew sleep would not come to her that evening. Not now. Not with the threat of danger nearby.
She felt him move behind her, heard the click of his gun and knew he was reloading it. “Feel better?”
“Aye.” He had no idea how much. “Thank you.”
A silence filled the small shelter. Behind her, Sam didn’t even move.
She shivered. It was a lot colder than the night before. The rain put a dampness in the air and it didn’t help that her clothes had gotten wet once again.
Not more than five inches behind her, she could feel the heat of Sam’s body. If she didn’t trust him so little, she would have craved his warmth.
“Good night, Ivy.”
She didn’t know why, but she liked his voice. It was raspy and uncultured, but there was definitely something comforting about it. “Good night—Mr. Michalski.”
* * *
Ivy’s eyes flew open with a start. She had fallen asleep. Again. How was that possible? With all the sleep she had received yesterday, she would have thought remaining awake and ensuring the bear did not return and have them for breakfast, would have been easy. And then there was Sam Michalski.
She couldn’t trust him. He was a bounty hunter. Men who killed without mercy. Or conscience. All for the sake of a dollar.
Daybreak filled the lean-to. She blinked to clear the sleep from her eyes. A huge weight pinned itself to her back, nearly engulfing her in its form. And warmth. With horror she realized it belonged to Sam Michalski. During the night he had returned to attach himself to her body. His arms had come around and locked her in his embrace.
Ivy closed her eyes again. Not to savor the feeling, but to still the growing pleasure his warm embrace provoked. She needed to focus. Needed to stop it. Concentrating, she lay still and listened to his heavy breathing behind her. He was still asleep.
If she moved very deliberately, she could be out of the ropes and his arms and escape before he ever woke. Then what?
She bit her lip, hating the feeling of helplessness. She hadn’t found herself in a situation she hadn’t been able to get out of in a long time. It left her feeling weak, vulnerable. And Ivy knew only too well what could happen to a person who did not remain strong.
He shifted behind her, tightening his hold on her, before moaning in pain. Apparently, the big and tough Sam Michalski wasn’t immune to sleeping in cramped and uncomfortable quarters.
“Jesus,” he moaned, removing his arm to rub the back of his head.
Ironically, Ivy felt no pangs. His body had cushioned her from the hard ground. His arm, a comforting pillow.
“You awake?” he mumbled next to her ear.
“Aye. May I get up now?”
