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He didn’t reply immediately. Perhaps not fully awake, but then he moved and pulled his other arm out from beneath her. “Yeah. Hold still while I untie these.”
There was no fear of Ivy moving. She held herself erect as his hands worked at the ropes pinning her body against his. His fingers brushed the underside of her breasts several times and it took all Ivy had not to bolt like lightening, or worse, turn towards his touch.
At last he slipped the ropes from around her wrists and Ivy was free. She quickly pulled herself away from him and shuffled as far as possible against the twig wall. She could feel Sam’s eyes on her, but refused to lift her chin. The aloof persona she worked so hard to create, she was finding difficult to resurface.
“You need to relieve yourself?”
Ivy felt her cheeks grow hot, but nodded nevertheless. He moved finally and slipped out of the shelter first. She was fairly certain the bear was nowhere in the area, but she would rather not be the first to have her head bitten off as it were. Not that she wished Sam’s death either, she thou
ght, as he called out it was safe for her to emerge. The fact was, without him, she would never exit these woods alive.
As she emerged into the bright early morning light, she blinked and looked up at her captor. He was tall, scrubby and as mean looking as they came, but for some reason Ivy knew that wasn’t the real reason why she didn’t want this man to die. Sure, he was not only her captor and link to survival, but there was something about him, something she wasn’t able to understand. She simply knew.
* * *
Sam waited while Ivy slipped behind some thick bush. He hadn’t bothered tying her up. If she made a run for it, he was sure to hear. He waited until she was finished, then led her back to their temporary camp. The rain had killed the fire he had built the night before, so he spent some time getting it started once again.
Next to him, though she tried to suppress it, he noticed Ivy trembling within her cloak. For some odd reason he felt a pang of guilt. Turning angrily away, he snatched up the rope and marched over to her squatting position. Wordlessly, he reached for her wrists and secured them tightly before wrapping the other end around her ankles.
He could feel her eyes on him the entire time. Unable to stop himself, he looked up and noticed those unusual eyes of hers strained on him. He cursed silently. She was starting to get to him. He had better toughen his skin. But, hell, for some stupid reason, he noticed the softness of her face, the creamy color of her skin with the smallest trace of pink in her cheeks from the cold temperatures.
Two fine brows slowly drew together, snapping Sam out of his unexpected musings. He grimaced before pushing himself to his feet. “You’re looking a whole lot more—“
Ah, hell, the word beautiful nearly fell off his tongue. This woman was not beautiful. Hell, she was as homely as they came. But that morning, as he kneeled before her, something about her was different. He wasn’t sure what it was, but there was definitely a difference. Her eyes didn’t look nearly as dull. Her skin not nearly as gray. And the dark shadows below her eyes he thought a permanent feature, were beginning to fade. Sleep was doing her a world of good.
“—healthy,” he finished oddly. Stop looking at her, he ordered himself. With more force than he intended, he spun around and marched out of the camp.
“Where are ye going?”
“I won’t be gone long.” It didn’t fare well if she knew where or how long he would be gone. It only provided a time period of how long she had to plan an escape.
* * *
Ivy watched Sam’s back disappear into the thick underbrush. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. It made her feel. . . different. Which in turn, made her feel nervous.
She had no idea how long he would be gone, but this was her window of opportunity. Feeling far stronger than she had in days, an escape now would more than likely prove successful. Even with the threat of bears in the vicinity, Ivy wasn’t worried. She had awoken feeling her old self. Her hunger for survival intact.
Still, he could have simply gone to relieve himself.
She craned her neck and watched as his figure disappeared further into the bush. Deciding she had ample time, she quickly dropped to her knees and forced her hands down to her tied ankles. With expert swiftness, she had them untied in a matter of minutes. Glancing over her shoulder and ensuring he was still nowhere in sight, she leaped to her feet and ran in the opposite direction Sam Michalski had left.
Moving hurriedly through the thick bush, she worked the knots on her wrists while not sacrificing any valuable escape time. The ropes came undone and she tossed them into the bush and fled faster down an incline and through a maze of trees. She shot a look behind her several times, almost certain to find Sam directly on her heel.
To her relief, there was no one there. Her foot was feeling better and did not slow Ivy down. The huge hours of sleep made her feel revitalized. Strong. He would not win. She would not let him take her back to her certain death.
A gunshot rang out in the woods and nearly had a scream wrenched from Ivy’s throat. Automatically, she ducked and covered her head. Fear sliced through her veins. He had found her.
Her throat tightened as panic rose up from her stomach. She moved faster, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she did. Where was he? Still, she could not see him.
She pushed harder, faster, breaking through a cobweb of branches. They reached for her, scratching and clawing. Terror ate away at her insides. A feeling of nausea overcame her. Tears pooled in her eyes, blinding her vision. Then suddenly the earth disappeared beneath her feet.
A scream ripped from her throat. Her arms flared, her feet came out from beneath. She was falling, her body sliding downward when she suddenly struck the bark of a tree. Her arms reached out instinctively and latched onto her only source of survival. It was not a very solid or secure tree, but she clung desperately to it. Her treacherous bad ankle refused to cooperate as she tried frantically to get her footing.
Panic wreaked havoc on her nerves. Her pulse raced at treacherous speeds as she worked hard to right herself.
With both arms grasping to her small token of security, she craned her neck to see where she had fallen. A gorge, not wide in width and easily missed through the dense underbrush, fell deep far below her feet. Perhaps not enough to kill her, but definitely enough to maim her. Where the fall wouldn’t kill her, the wildlife would.
Her arms strained, pain shooting up their length. Ivy knew they lacked enough strength to hold her weight much longer. Then, out of nowhere, she felt a hand close around her wrist. Felt her body being dragged upward and over the edge of the ravine. Ivy shot a glance up and a new fear flooded her veins. A pure look of rage cloaked Sam Michalski’s face.
