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She slowly got to her feet, testing her ankle’s strength. Sam had packed up what little gear they had and turned to watch her. “Do you need help mounting?”
He stood about five feet from her, holding his arms close to his side as if he detested the idea of touching her. Ivy couldn’t help but feel the same. Her night spent in the comfort and warmth of his arms had been more dangerous than the wildlife from which they ran. There she was under the false illusion that all her fears would vanish.
“I can manage.”
To her surprise, he chose to walk next to the horse instead of riding on its back behind her as he had done yesterday. Obviously, wishing to make contact with her less than she realized. She hated the fact this thought caused her pain. Most of her life, society had spurned her. This man would be no different. Only with this man did the rejection leave an uncomfortable sting.
They trudged through the snow-covered wilderness in silence for a long while. The air they inhaled was wintery cold. Before her, she could see a frosty breath emitting from the horse’s nostrils. Her own softly billowing in front of her face. On the ground, she watched Sam lead the horse through the dense forest. His face turning slightly pink from the cold.
Having chosen to walk rather than ride with her, he was prolonging their arrival in the city. Though Ivy was cold, dirty and injured, she had no wish to reach that particular destination.
By mid-morning their path came to an abrupt decline. Sam halted and looked down. Ivy followed his gaze. Her eyes fell upon railroad tracks. They had chosen not to follow the tracks out of the village as they wound too close to the lake’s coastline. The granite earth edging the great lake jutted in sharp and cutting peaks, making maneuvering impossible. Instead, they followed the river which headed in a westerly direction until it eventually met up with the tracks once again.
He looked up and their gaze collided. Immediately he looked away. “Not much further now.”
She made no reply.
“Best stop and give the horse a rest.” He glanced at her and looked uncomfortable. “You need help down?”
“No.” To prove she didn’t, she swung her leg over and slid her body down along the horse’s side until she touched the earth beneath.
Sam took the animal and tied it to a nearby tree, then turned back to Ivy. Tugging on his hat, he pulled the brim down low and shielded his eyes from her view.
“Wrists.”
He thought she would run. Truth was, she probably would. Reluctantly, she held out her hands. To her surprise, he did not take them. He simply stood there staring down at the red marks left by his bindings. He made no sound. Even his breathing fell silent. She wished she could see his face, but it remained hidden beneath his hat.
At last he spoke. So quietly, however, his words were nearly lost upon the wind. “They’re goin’ to hang you, Ivy.”
She blinked and swallowed the sudden painful lump in her throat, but continued to hold out her wrists. “I know.”
He lifted his chin then, and pinned her with a hard stare. “Tell me what happened. Talk to me. Hell, I’m even willing to believe it was an accident.”
She watched the emotion on his face grow hard as he studied her closely, certain that whatever thoughts were behind those eyes of his were dark. “Was it an accident?”
Ivy paused for only half a beat, then slowly shook her head.
“Dammit!” he bellowed and spun away from her, ripping off his hat and dragging an angry hand through his hair.
She flinched instinctively from his outburst and took a step back.
“What the hell happened that night?” He whirled back around, glaring and advancing on her. “Tell me, goddammit!”
Ivy moved quickly backwards, away from his anger, but with her lame ankle, nearly tripped over her own feet. He reached for her and seized her shoulders in a fierce grip.
“Don’t touch me!”
“How could you have done it?” His eyes flared red and Ivy recoiled immediately, trying desperately to escape his grip.
“Let me go!”
But he only squeezed tighter and gave her a violent shake. “Damn you, Ivy!”
With a sudden thrust, he pulled her hard against his body. Fear shot to the tip of her throat. Memories of her sister being manhandled in the same manner, flooded back to mind. “Stop!”
She pushed and squirmed angrily in his embrace, but his hold only tightened. “I hate the fact every time I look at you, you remind me of her.”
“I’m not her! Now let me go!”
