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“Wait,” he said when he got close enough for her to hear.
She stopped dead in her tracks and seemed to take several steadying breathes before turning to him. Alastair ignored the hope in her eyes, the same way he ignored the pain in his side and wrist, and the thumping in his head.
“Stay low,” he told her.
Her eyes went wide. “Crawl?” She looked down at the thick, fluffy snow. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Crouch, not crawl.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
She needed a keeper. His heart spasmed, adding another pain to the list. He’d wanted to be that for her. But she’d made it very clear he wasn’t her choice for the job.
“Let’s go.” He nodded towards the darkness that swallowed the guard building. “I’ll put the flashlight on low and keep it tilted to the ground. In this weather, they shouldn’t see it.”
“You can dim it?” She seemed fascinated.
Alastair grunted and switched the thing to the lowest setting. A faint beam illuminated Rainne’s face.
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, clearly working up the courage to say something. “Do you want to lean on me?”
“No.” The word came out sharp, like a bullet. He didn’t want to touch her at all because part of him, deep inside, knew if he did he’d want to keep on touching her and never stop.
“Of course,” she muttered. “Alastair Stewart doesn’t need anyone for anything. He can do it all on his own. Okay, let’s get inside.”
They fought their way through the darkness, the cold biting at them, the thick snow swallowing their feet. Each step was agony. The snow was halfway up Alastair’s calves and his jeans were soaked. He glanced over at Rainne. The snow was over the top of her moon boots, probably seeping into them. The padding on her boots wouldn’t be much use if it was wet. At least her coat was doing its job. It was decently padded and came down to mid-thigh. He wondered if it was padded with proper down or some synthetic crap that wouldn’t fend off moisture long enough to keep her properly warm. And what the hell was she wearing on her head? Her woollen hat had eyes. And possibly ears. He frowned. So much for her growing up—she’d obviously chosen the hat for the novelty factor rather than practicality. It was too thin for this weather. She’d have been better off with a waterproof hat with a fur lining.
“I don’t see anyone,” Rainne whispered.
Alastair looked around. She was right. Although the fact they could only see a couple of feet in front of them meant if someone was out there, they wouldn’t know.
“The guardhouse looks empty,” she said.
“That doesn’t mean it is empty.”
She nodded. “But it’s got that feel about it, you know. The one where it seems hollow because the filling is missing.”
Yeah, she had totally reinvented herself all right. Not.
Alastair motioned for her to crouch down behind the stone wall that flanked the open gate. She did as she was told, and he wondered why she couldn’t have been that obedient earlier.
“I’ll go check out the building,” he whispered, each word making a cloud in front of his face.
“You’re injured. I should go.”
“No.”
“You are unreasonably stubborn, Alastair Stewart. It’s not an attractive quality in a man. But fine, if your poor, fragile male ego has to do this, then on you go. When you pass out in the snow, I’ll drag you inside. I hope your manliness can cope with that.” She folded her arms over her purple coat and frowned at him.
“I think I can live with that.”
He uncurled from his crouched position. Too fast. The world tilted and his hand shot out to hold on to the snow-clad stones. He closed his eyes and waited
for the feeling to settle. A minute. He just needed a minute. When he opened them, Rainne was gone.
What the hell?
He ignored the stab of panic that made his mouth dry, and scanned the darkness. There. A faint light. She was using her phone to illuminate her way to the guardhouse. And she called him stubborn? She wasn’t even trying to be stealthy. She was just trudging forward, a huge purple target in the white snow. Heading towards a building she felt was empty.
