A moment later she blinked at the apparition that appeared before her. When had she closed her eyes?
Pale in the stark winter light where he wasn’t covered in blood, Gage stood before her, wavering on his feet. Or was that just her vision?
“Let me see.”
“Gage, you’re naked.” And bleeding. Blood still seeped from the wound on his shoulder and a gash on his stomach. There was blood on his face, and all down his chest and side.
“Bridget.” He crouched down next to her, but his jaw was clenched tight and he didn’t sound like himself. He sounded— tense.
“Okay.” Slowly she moved her hand from the gash in her thigh.
She peeked down and then looked away. A bloody rent about five inches long ran through her pants. She couldn’t tell how bad it was, but she couldn’t make herself look again. It was nowhere near as bad as Gage’s wounds. That was for sure.
She sucked in a breath as he ripped the fabric out of his way. He grunted and continued ripping.
“Is this the only one?”
“Um… Yes?”
“Bridget. Look at me. Are you wounded anywhere else?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She took a deep breath. “Is it bad?”
“No. Not to worry, ma petite. It is a gash, but not too deep.”
Bridget heaved out a sigh. He sounded like himself again.
“We will take care of it better when we set up camp. For now, I will just tie a bandage around it.”
He took the cloth he had torn away from the wound and wrapped it tightly around her thigh. It throbbed and ached, and her leg was already painfully cold where he had ripped away the fabric. He’d done a neat job of it though, and only a section of her leg about a foot and a half long was exposed to the elements. Well, those parts not covered by the bandage anyway. She watched his long fingers work nimbly to bind the cloth around her leg. He had such nice hands. When they weren’t covered with blood.
She stared out into the distance, fighting back tears. She was not going to cry in front of him. But the realization that he might have died, his life might have been snuffed out as suddenly as one extinguishes a candle... Don’t think about that.
She tried not to think about anything as Gage tore another strip of cloth from her pants and used as a sort of garter to hold up the bottom part of her pant leg. Ingenious. Otherwise it would just pool around her ankle when she tried to walk.
He helped her to her feet. “Can you walk, ma chouchoutte? Or shall I carry you?”
She sighed. “I can walk.” She thought so, anyway. “But Gage, you’re naked. Aren’t your feet freezing?”
“I’m fine.” He put an arm around her and helped her walk toward the sled’s tracks she’d been looking for what seemed like a lifetime ago. But it was probably less than an hour.
She looked back to see the boar lying still on its side, blood pooling under its neck. The young wolves were growling as they ripped into the belly. Bile rose in her throat and she glanced away quickly. Well, they were wolves. And this was their kill. Still—
Bridget shook her head and limped resolutely away. That stupid pig deserved it.
Chapter 18
It was a long walk to the sled. At least it seemed that way, under the circumstances. Gage refused to leave her, even though he could have run to the sled in minutes in wolf form, gotten his clothes, and been back in no time. She suggested it more than once, but he refused to consider it.
“You stay at my side from now on.” He didn’t sound like he was willing to argue about it. Which was fine. She didn’t really have energy for arguing just now.
They reached the sled after what seemed like forever, and Gage wiped himself down with a towel and snow—yes snow—which turned bright red as he did so, before dressing. She tried to watch out of the corner of her eye, but her eyes just closed of their own accord.
She was sitting on the packed sled, lying back on it, really, and the next thing she knew he was rummaging underneath her and extracting the tent. After that, things got a little fuzzy. At one point he helped her down from the sled and had her sit on a camp chair. He wrapped her in a sleeping bag, and only then did she become aware that she was shaking so hard her teeth were chattering. She blinked at him, but he just tucked the sleeping bag tighter around her and began making a fire.
“I smell like pig,” she said a while later. She wasn’t sure if it was actually true, but she felt like she’d been contaminated.
“I’ll heat water for you. You can wash.”
First, he gave her hot tea and made her drink it. She felt a lot better after that and went into the tent to wash off a week of winter camping grime. She had done spot cleaning, of course, but hadn’t worked up the wherewithal to actually strip down and wash her whole body. It was cold. She unzipped her jacket and set it aside. Then she pulled her shirt and sweater off over her head. Burr! She quickly took a hand towel and dipped it in the pot of steaming water. She wiped her face first and worked her way down, then she grabbed the soap and proceeded to lather.
I can’t believe I almost bought it— She felt her mouth twist. A feral pig! She shuddered, whether from the cold or the memory of that huge hairy body coming at her— That long hairy snout… those tiny piggy eyes…
She shivered convulsively and dipped the towel back in the hot water. Her body ached from being knocked to the ground so many times, but not as much as it could have. The snow was soft, and the stupid snowshoes didn’t really provide traction, so she’d gone over without a lot of resistance. Which meant the impact of that nasty pig slamming into her wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Still… that wasn’t the worse part of the encounter.
The image of that horrible black boar barreling into Gage like a freight train flashed into her mind. She really thought in that moment he might be killed. That she might never get the chance to say yes to all his ridiculous suggestions and innuendos. And the loss of it was like a blow.
You sit on the sidelines waiting and waiting, and by the time you get the nerve up to move, it’s too late.
It was the same old story. Even in college, she’d always hung back. The boyfriends she had were guys who came up to her. And somehow, they were never anyone she was secretly attracted to. They were nice enough, but…
For some reason, making the first move, even flirting seemed beyond her. She was convinced they would laugh in her face. Just like Johnnie Jones in the eighth grade. She rolled her eyes. Johnnie Jones. That name alone should have given her a hint. But he was so cute, with that crocked little smile and the way he tossed his head, swinging that lock of black hair out of his eyes. He wasn’t quite as tall as her, but the tallest boy in their class. He had always been, well, maybe nice was stretch, but at least not mean to her. And okay, smart wasn’t the best way to describe him, but he wasn’t dumb. At least she hadn’t thought so until she’d asked him to the eighth-grade dance.
He’d laughed. “Why would I want to go to the dance with you? So you can protect me if it gets a little crowded on the dance floor?” He shook his head. “What would my friends say? I hate to break it to you, midget, but you’re not exactly a guy’s ideal. You’re like, as big as a man.”
She winced at the memory. She never realized how much she’d let that one incident shape her life. Just because the guy wasn’t confident enough to ignore the taunts of his friends … Because looking back on it now, when he’d said that about her not being the ideal, the way he’d looked her up and down made her think maybe that wasn’t quite the truth. At least not as far as he was concerned.
And here was Gage, proclaiming to her and anyone else who would listen that she was the epitome of everything female, and she wasn’t willing to give him a chance? If he had died today, she would have missed that chance forever. You are a fool, Bridget Henderson.
She couldn’t ask for a better man than Gage. Sweet and thoughtful, but also funny and irreverent. And extravagant in his praise. Yes, a girl could definitely g
et used to that. And let’s face it, the man is beautiful. If anyone up there were to actually design a man just for her, yeah, that would be Gage. Apart from the whole werewolf thing anyway…
She dried her shivering but now gloriously clean upper body and pulled out a fresh top. Wait. She dug in her knapsack and found what she’d been looking for. She might not need it, but just in case. She slipped on a salmon colored satin bra that did wonders for the girls and looked beautiful against her skin. She didn’t go in for a lot of fancy underwear, it didn’t even have lace, but it made up for that in the richness of color and simple elegance of the fabric. And it came with matching high-legged panties that where really nice.
She had to admit, she must have packed these for a reason. You didn’t bring something like this on a winter camping expedition unless somewhere in the back of your mind…
Okay. Enough. I’ll put it on, and we can just see where things go. No need to rush anything. But the idea that both of them could have been killed today swirled around in the back of her mind. She pulled on a long-sleeve silk undershirt and then a thick wool sweater, shivering. Oh. That’s better. The warmth of her body heat trapped in the silk and wool started to enclose her almost instantly.
Time to do the lower half. She gritted her teeth as she gingerly pulled the remains of her pants down over her injured leg. The water was cooling now but she managed to do a decent job of getting clean, washing everything up to and around the bandage Gage had made from her pants.
She hissed when she tried to remove the cloth Gage had tied around her leg. Using her pocketknife, she managed to cut it, but the cloth was stuck to the wound. She whimpered as she tried to peel it back. Gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes closed, she pulled, slowly. Ow, ow, ow. She peeked down. One corner of the wound was exposed. And oh, yuck. It really didn’t look good.
Fresh blood welled out of the corner she’d managed to uncover, and the skin around it was angry, swollen and red. She tried to stifle a moan. How was she going to get this damn bandage off so she could clean the wound? Because she was going to need some serious first aid. There had to be all kinds of nasty bacteria in there.
“Bridget?”
“Yes?”
“Why do I smell blood? You didn’t remove the bandage, did you?”
“Um… yes. I need to clean it.”
“I’m coming in.”
“No! I’m not dressed.”
He growled low in his throat. “I’m coming in. I need to tend to it.”
Hastily she grabbed a clean towel and covered her bottom half.
Gage’s head appeared in the tent opening, a first-aid kit in his hand and a fresh pot of steaming water in the other. “Okay. Let’s get a look at that wound of yours. I want to make sure we get it good and clean. Humans do not heal the way the People do.”
She noticed that Gage’s hair was slightly damp around the temples and she was pretty sure he was wearing different clothes than he’d put on by the sled. “Did you—” she gestured at his clothes and broke off. It was none of her business.
“I washed too.” He grinned. “You are not the only one who smelled of pig. Which reminds me, I know you said you wouldn’t eat squirrel stew, but what about roast pig?”
“Eeww. Gage. That horrible ugly thing? You have got to be kidding.”
“They make fine eating.”
“Well, I’m happy to leave it to Smokey and— what did you call the other one, Leaf?
“Smoke and Leaves. Now. Let me see.” His voice was stern, and she squirmed a little as he lifted the towel, revealing the fresh blood where she’d peeled off the bandage. “Oh, Bridget, ma puce, your poor skin. Why didn’t you call me? We will soak it off. That will loosen the dried blood.”
She blinked up at him. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “Um… Okay. Thanks.”
“Mmm,” he grunted, taking a cloth and dipping it in the steaming water. “Why don’t you lie back and let me take care of this?”
She was uncomfortably aware of how exposed she was, with only a towel protecting her modesty. If he were to lift it—
“Okay. But, Gage, none of your funny business. I’m not kidding. I’m feeling very vulnerable here.”
“No,” he agreed, more seriously that she would have expected. “Just lie back and let me tend to you. I’m so sorry you were injured. I never should have gotten so far away.”
“I stopped to wrestle a stick,” she mumbled, lying back. She didn’t really want to watch this anyway.
“A stick?”
“Never mind. I lost it in the battle.”
She hissed and gritted her teeth as he gently bathed the wound in hot water and then slowly peeled back the cloth. She thought that would be the worst of it, but then he started actually cleaning the wound using antiseptic. Owww. She sucked in her breath and stifled a scream. That hurt.
“Sorry,” he said, and he sounded very sincere, but she couldn’t open her eyes just then to check.
And then she felt his breath on her skin and her eyes did pop open. His face hovered just above her leg, very close to her—
She jerked as he inhaled deeply. “Gage!”
He jerked too and looked up guiltily. “What? Healing enzymes in our saliva, remember?”
“Well, don’t lick it!”
“Why not?”
“Eww. Gage. Just, no. Can’t you put some saliva on the bandage or something?” She couldn’t believe she was even saying this, but it had really helped her with that bump on her head—
He leaned closer, breathing in, and she shoved his head away. “Okay. You’re done.”
“What? I was just—” He shook his head. “Never mind. Here, lie back. I won’t lick it. I promise.”
“Yeah, tell me another one, buddy.”
He smiled, and it was such a naughty Gage smile that she couldn’t help smiling back. She rolled her eyes to compensate.
“I’m going to close it with butterfly bandages in that case, and I will put the saliva on the bandage— if you’re sure?”
“Sure that I don’t want you to lick my wound?” She gave him a flat look. “I’m sure.”
He pulled out a bandage, and she had to look away while he treated it. Yuck. Don’t think it. And then he gently covered the wound, and instantly a soothing coolness eased the ache and she drew in a deep breath.
“That’s some pretty amazing stuff you have in your spit,” she commented.
He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “I know.” And then he waggled them, making her giggle.
“Okay, Romeo, out you go. I’m going to get dressed. And you are going to make me dinner.”
“But of course, mon amore. It will be my pleasure to slave over a hot fire for you.”
She shook her head but couldn’t help smiling as he gathered the two water pans and slithered back out of the tent like an eel. She was like a heffalump trying to get in and out of this thing, especially now with her leg. How he did it with such ease… She sighed and pulled the abandoned panties from behind her back, carefully pulling them on over her injured leg. And yet, Bridget, the man seems to want you. You might want to capitalize on that before he changes his mind. She might just do that.
There were worse things she could think of than being tethered to a man like Gage Ardennes for the rest of her life. This trip had shown her what kind of man he truly was, not just who she thought he was. The Gatorade. The valentine. You couldn’t fake things like that. And it was sobering.
She couldn’t deny she had deep feelings for the man. Maybe too deep. Maybe that was why she’d refused to acknowledge them before. It was dangerous to want something too much.
***
Gage stared across the fire, watching Bridget through his lashes. She might have died today. That was something he’d never considered. It had never even entered his mind that she might suffer because of him. But now—
He should at least try to explain.
“Bridget. I…” He wasn’t sure quite how to say it. He shook hi
s head slightly. “I was so sure… I caught your scent there in the parking lot, and I just… knew. And then I saw you. So beautiful. I was… overjoyed. That the Maiden would bless me so— I don’t deserve it. And I knew I would have to wait. So I did. I stayed close, as close as I could, and I waited. And then there was the car accident, and I thought… But today—”
He broke off and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I never thought of you.” He looked up and met her eyes. “I never thought, but what of her? She is human. She will have her own plans. Her own desires. And they will be important to her.”
He grimaced slightly, trying to get the image of her sprawled in the snow with three hundred pounds of wild Russian boar bearing down on her, out of his mind. “Today, you might have died. Because of me.”
He swallowed and looked away, out into the night. “It’s possible that I was wrong. That this is not the right thing for you, even if I know it is for me. And I have doomed you to this existence. It— it weighs on me.”
“Gage.” Her voice was gentle, but he couldn’t look at her just then. Couldn’t bear to see the look of regret on her face. “Gage,” she said more firmly, demanding his attention.
He sighed and looked up, meeting her gaze, those beautiful clear blue eyes, so full of life.
“All my life,” she said, “I have felt… other. Different. Like I didn’t belong anywhere. Too big. Too awkward.” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “Not feminine enough.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand.
“Let me finish. And then— I meet a group of… Moon People, I guess I’ll say, since you don’t like the term ‘werewolf.” She gave him a small smile. “And all of a sudden, I don’t feel those things at all. It’s like… somehow, I fit here. Don’t you… think so?”
“Bridget, what I think is that you were made for me. You are perfect in every way, mon rêve. Beautiful. And strong. And smart. And fierce. But perhaps… I was not made for you. That is what I am saying.”
“Do you know, Gage? I’m starting to think that maybe you’ve been right all along. That maybe it’s just my habit of standing back. Of watching, and not participating. Not truly trying to be a part of anything, because I’m so used to feeling— outside. That maybe I’ve let that… hold me back. Because… I do like you, Gage. A lot. Maybe even more than like. You’re funny and kind and thoughtful, and much more sensitive than you want anyone to know.”
My Captive Valentine Page 16