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The last thing Anne wanted was to hold Blane’s hand and be guided through the forest like a wayward Girl Scout, but what choice did she have? To keep falling and possibly hurt an ankle or worse? Putting Blane in a worse position and making her an even bigger liability than she already was?
She took his hand.
His palm was chilled but warmer than hers, the skin roughened with calluses. She’d think his current job allowed for softer hands, but obviously Blane wasn’t the kind of man to slather on cocoa butter.
They hiked further in silence. His grip helped Anne keep her feet more than once. Everything kept wanting to crawl sideways. Her feet were swollen and ached with each step. Her stomach was eating a hole in her gut. And her head was pounding with a splitting headache. But she didn’t say a word. Blane had the backpack which, with all the water and supplies, had to weigh a ton. But he carried it like it was nothing.
The sudden sound of dogs barking and baying made them both freeze in their tracks. Blane cursed.
“What is it?” Anne asked, alarmed.
“They’re looking for us. I’d hoped we’d get more time.”
“What do you mean?”
Blane tugged on her hand, moving twice as fast as they had been. Anne struggled to keep up. She couldn’t spare any thoughts beyond putting one foot in front of the other. The grass and trees became all she could see.
Some time later, she had no idea how long, Blane suddenly stopped. Anne looked up. They were standing beside a fast-moving stream about twenty yards wide. The dogs’ baying was getting closer.
“This will lose our scent,” Blane said, tugging her forward.
Anne’s vision blurred and she stumbled again. Blane pulled on her and they walked into the ice-cold water. She gasped as the chill bit into her skin.
Blane found rocks to step on and pulled her up onto them. The dogs were getting closer. Adrenaline flooded her veins and turned her skin clammy. She scrambled after him across the rocks. The bank was inching closer. Her breath burned her lungs as she hurried after Blane. Then her foot made a wrong turn.
She cried out as she fell, the sharp pain in her ankle piercing through her. Water closed over her head. She emerged, gasping. Blane hauled her out of the water and into his arms. Anne gulped for air, water leaking from her nose and mouth.
Trees’ limbs passed overhead as Anne’s head lolled back against Blane’s shoulder. Everything was spinning but she continued putting one foot in front of the other, leaning heavily on Blane and clenching her teeth every time weight landed on her injured ankle.
Time passed and she didn’t know how much. She knew only pain, cold, and fatigue. Her eyes wanted to slip closed.
“All right, I get it. You’re tough.” Blane swung her up into his arms. “But this’ll be faster, sweetheart.”
Anne didn’t protest. The last thing she wanted was to be responsible for their pursuers catching up to them.
The rhythm of Blane’s footsteps lulled her into dozing. When she woke, she was lying on something soft. And it was warm.Shewas warm. Her eyelids felt as though they were weighted. She pried them open, taking stock of her situation.
She was naked and wrapped in blankets. Lying on a sofa. There was a fireplace with a fire burning merrily in the grate. Confused, she looked around.
Blane approached from the side. Anne turned her head and tried to speak. But her mouth was dry as dust and she couldn’t make a sound.
“Here,” Blane said, crouching by her and lifting a water bottle to her lips.
She drank, the cool liquid soothing her throat. The blankets were so soft.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice a rasp. “Where are we?”
“It’s fall in Maine. We’re in a cabin abandoned by those who’ve left after the summer.” He added more wood to the fire. “How are you feeling?”
Anne considered. “Things are fuzzy.”
He disappeared. Then, just when she was getting anxious, he reappeared with a steaming bowl.
“What’s this?”
“Food. Can you sit up?”
Anne pushed herself upward, tugging the blankets with her. Blane sat next to her on the couch.
