Sam’s breath felt warm next to her ear as he softly whispered, “We’re downwind. She won’t be able to smell us. Just stay still.” If she hadn’t been holding her own breath, she would never have heard him.
She nodded and was struck by the realization that she was glad Sam was there. Glad she was not alone. Glad his arms were around her. Never before in her life had she ever felt so protected.
And that was when the urge to flee eventually did come. But instead, she forced herself to remain still, biting her bottom lip hard to keep it from trembling. The forest was silent, making the sound of the bear’s snort sound that much louder. Every time the animal exhaled, it sounded so close, Ivy was sure the creature would discover them at any moment. She physically flinched when the animal’s breath was felt far too close to where her head lay.
The old dependable feelings of anxiety returned, bubbling deep in her gut. She tried desperately to suppress it. Now was not a good time to vomit. As if sensing her rising anxiety, Sam tightened his hold on her. One hand covering her mouth, the other slowly and almost as if he wasn’t aware, stroking her arm.
The one covering her mouth tasted salty against her lips. Was he sweating? Was he as frightened as Ivy? The thought should have sent her reeling into a panic, but for some unexplainable reason, it actually had a calming effect.
So the man was human after all. Perhaps was in need of a little comforting as well. Not that she would offer him any, she told herself sternly. For all she cared, the bear could have him for dinner.
Heavy shuffling indicated the animal had moved toward the entrance of the shelter.
Ivy’s pulse skyrocketed and without even realizing it, she leaned deeper into Sam’s embrace. Sam squeezed her, obviously trying to send her a mute warning to be still and silent. And he was right. She knew that. Whatever it took, she could not scream. Something she was fighting hard against.
Years of struggling to survive had built in a natural survival instinct in Ivy. She did not want to die. Not here. Not this way. If it meant she could not move for the next twenty-four hours, the next week if need be, she would do it.
To her relief, however, the sound of the bear’s heavy paws began to move away from the shelter. The sound of trees and bush rustled as the animal headed back into the woods and out of their camp, until finally it was silent once again. And even then, Ivy did not move.
“She’s gone.” Sam’s mouth was just over her ear and when he spoke his voice sounded so soft, so comforting. A warm ripple unexpectedly ran down her spine. Perhaps it was the pent up stress of having to remain so still when what she really wanted was to go running into the forest screaming at the top of her lungs, which had tears welling at the back of her eyes. Now was not the time to cry. She pressed her lids tightly together, forcing them dry.
When she finally felt herself reasonably in control of her emotions, she said, “Will she be back?”
“Might,” he admitted. “Good chance she smelled what was left of our dinner in the fire pit.”
“Can you shoot it?”
Behind her back, she felt him grow rigid. When he spoke, his voice was no longer soft. “You can’t go around killing everything you don’t like.”
“What I don’t like is the fact if she had come one step closer, she’d have found the entrance to this shelter.”
“She was looking for food. That’s not a crime.”
“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?”
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.
“You damn, stupid fool!”
The moment she was safely on level ground, she scurried away from his menacing scowl. “Don’t ye be touching me.”
“Lady, you are not in the position to tell me what I can or cannot do.” He took a threatening step closer.
Instinctively, Ivy scrambled backwards on her behind. “Please, don’t kill me.”
That stopped him dead. His scowl grew even darker. “Ma’am, if I wanted you dead, I would’ve left you there at the bottom of the ravine.”
He reached for her non-too-politely and Ivy automatically flinched. He dragged her out of the tangle of branches she had retreated into and hauled her up onto her feet. With swift movements, he retied her wrists in a new knot Ivy had never seen the likes of before. Fear gravitated in the pit of her stomach.
“Please. Just let me go.”
His eyes shot a fierce glance at her before he moved quickly looping the rope around her neck and tying the other end around her wrists. He moved so fast Ivy had no idea what he was doing until it was too late.
“Didn’t want to have to do this, Freckles. But seeing you have a tendency to run, not to mention escape any other secure knot I’ve made, you’ve left me with no choice.”
Her eyes fell to the rope looped loosely around her neck and felt that same feeling of nausea rise in the pit of her stomach.
“How this here works is if you try and pull this cord securing your wrists, like this,” he gripped the end of the rope closest to her wrists to demonstrate, causing Ivy to suck in sharply when the noose around her neck swiftly tightened around her throat. “You’ll choke yourself.”
He released the cord allowing the rope to slacken around her throat, and for Ivy to draw in a large gasp of air. With a raspy voice, she said, “Ye can’t do this.”
He ignored her. “Let’s get moving.”
His eyes did not meet hers again as he turned away and headed out the direction he came. He stopped only to bend down and pick something up. A dead animal. She did not recognize the breed, but it was not very large. In the side of its small body, was a huge gaping hole where a bullet had taken its life. The shot she had heard earlier. The one in which she thought had been fired at her, had actually been used to kill their meal. He had gone hunting for their breakfast.
* * *
Hell, Sam had never been this angry with someone before in his life. Not even with Daphne Sweeney. In that situation, his anger had been directed at himself. For being so damn naive, so gullible. For being a fool. A mistake he swore never to repeat.
Even with his mother he had never gotten this angry. He pushed thoughts of her immediately from his mind. He hadn’t thought of her in years, he wasn’t about to let this woman lead him back down memory lane.
The duo walked in a single line for several more hours, neither speaking. They headed in a westerly direction through the thick underbrush so dense the sun, which could have helped penetrate some of the northern climate, was overshadowed by the packed forest. Having lost some time with the incident at the ravine, then having to backtrack to the camp to retrieve his satchel and supplies, Sam perhaps was walking at a faster rate than necessary. The sooner he reached town, the sooner he could rid himself of Ivy McGregor.
The woman was dangerous. And not just to herself. Even though it made his blood boil every time he pictured her clinging to a tree not much thicker than his leg. Truth was, Ivy McGregor was dangerous to Sam’s good sense.
* * *
It was nearing dark. The sun had disappeared beneath the wooded horizon and grayness overcame the earth. Ivy looked ahead of her and prayed Sam would stop shortly. Her bad ankle was beginning to act up and hurting something fierce. She struggled to keep up. He used no lead to ensure she follow him through the forest, relying entirely on the rope anchored ominously around her throat instead. It made Ivy livid. The knot was one she had never seen the likes of before, and therefore, had no idea how to escape it.
If given the time, perhaps she could figure it out. But out here where she was vulnerable to the wilderness, she needed to ensure she was not sitting prey. At last Sam stopped near a small cluster of trees. No sight of shelter to be seen. Ivy was already freezing. With the temperatures at their all-time low during the nights, she didn’t doubt if the wildlife didn’t get her, than frostbite would.
The Color of Ivy Page 10