Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(94)

“I'm sorry,” she cried. “I don't think I can go on.”

He pulled her against him, tucking her under his arm as if he could protect her from the brutal elements by the shield of his body alone. She let him hold her, and though he knew it was for his heat, for the moment it was enough.

“Come, love, you've done wonderfully, don't give up now. It's not much farther,” he lied.

He could hear the rising panic in her voice. “But how do you know? How can you see anything in this?”

He pointed to a rock. “By the direction of the snow on the rocks.” The wind had been blowing from the east.

“Is there nowhere we can rest, just for a few minutes?”

He didn't need to look around, he knew the answer. There was no place for shelter—there were only high moors and rock with occasional patches of heather. “I know you are tired, Lizzie, but we need to keep moving.” If they stopped, they would freeze, and there was less than an hour left of light.

She looked up at him, eyes wide with concern. “I've taken your plaid. You must be freezing.”

“I'm used to the cold.” He looked down at her tiny hand on his arm. The tinge of blue on her fingertips struck him cold. Quickly, he took from his bag the pelt he'd kept from the hare. “Use this to wrap around your hands.” She did so without argument, though it hadn't been tanned. “We need to keep moving. I'll help you, all right?”

She nodded and allowed him to lead her on. He kept her tight against him, bracing her from the wind with his body as they slowly wound their way through the maze of rocky hills. But as the snow got deeper, her skirts started to tangle, impeding her steps even further.

He was literally dragging her, and when she tripped, almost falling headfirst down a steep crag, he picked her up.

“What are you doing?” she said weakly, delirious with exhaustion and cold. “Your leg. You can't carry me.”

He was so damn cold that he didn't feel anything—he just knew that he had to do something if they were going to have a chance. He ignored her protests and, cradling her against his chest, plowed forward through the storm.

But as he approached the summit of the last big hill before they descended toward the copse of trees, the light dimmed to almost nothing and the snow started to come down even harder. He couldn't see two feet in front of him. They weren't going to make it. He looked around for anything that might help shelter them from the full brunt of the storm.

Once before when he'd been caught in a storm, he'd been able to stay warm by using the carcass of a deer that had fallen down the steep mountainside into the corrie. The vile, nauseating stench was not one he'd soon forget, but right now he would welcome it.

A few feet away, he saw the dark gray top of a large rock just breaking through the snow. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. But when he reached it and tried to set Lizzie down, his heart plummeted.

Her eyes were closed, and glittering crystals of ice hung from her lashes onto her bloodless cheeks. “Lizzie!” he cried, gently slapping her cheek when she wouldn't wake. “God damn it, Lizzie!” He felt as if his heart were being wrenched from his lungs. “Don't you dare leave me now!”

She was deathly cold.

Knowing he had to work fast, he set her down and began to dig furiously, tunneling a small cave of snow next to the rock. When it was just big enough for them to squeeze in, he hugged Lizzie tight and pulled her inside, nestling her against his chest and enfolding her in his arms as he fought to warm her shivering body with his. But he had little heat to give. He swore one minute and prayed the next, having never felt so bloody powerless in his life.

Take me, but don't let her die.

Not this sweet girl who'd done nothing but make the mistake of giving her heart to a man who didn't deserve it.

God, what have I done? “I love you, Lizzie,” he said, speaking the words aloud for the first time.

His chest burned, the ache in his heart so profound that he could deny it no longer. The truth had been there all along: He loved her. Loved her as he'd never loved a woman before. He'd thought himself impervious, no longer capable of feeling these cruel emotions. But he was wrong. His love for Lizzie was too powerful to be denied.

But the realization was tinged with despair. He pressed his mouth against her head, the cold clamminess of her forehead sending ice through his already-frozen veins.

The snow and wind howled as night closed in around them like a shroud.

Chapter 19

Lizzie woke slowly, groggy with the effects of a heavy sleep. Her head throbbed, as if she'd drunk too much claret. And she didn't think she'd ever been so cold.

Her eyes fluttered open and she felt a moment of panic— seeing nothing but icy white snow all around her.

Her heart stuck in her throat. I've been buried.

But almost immediately, she became aware of the strong arms held tight around her and the steady beat of his heart behind her. Instinctively, she relaxed.

“Lizzie.” Patrick shook her gently, and she could hear the urgency in his voice.

“Where are we?” she croaked.

“Thank God,” he said. “You're awake.”

She tried to wriggle out of his arms, but there was nowhere to go.

“Careful,” he warned. “You'll bring the roof down on top of us.”