Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)(32)

Finally, when he’d gone fifty feet he stopped and slid down from the mare. He held the lantern high but couldn’t see anything that even remotely looked like a hut.

A sliver of fear sliced through him. Had he made a wrong calculation somewhere?

Lily’s limp body had grown heavier. She didn’t move. And he couldn’t tell if she was still breathing.

He was running out of time.

With a growl of frustration, he crunched forward through the heavy snow, working his way around a ten-foot radius until finally the flickering lantern light revealed a snow-covered hovel.

It was nothing more than a rudimentary shack, eight feet by eight feet wide, part dugout and part logs, not more than four feet high. The early land cruiser Bill Sweeny had constructed it when he’d first come to Clare County ten years earlier to scout for the best pine, pace off sections of land, and establish boundaries.

A quick inspection revealed a sagging roof and a door hanging half off the frame. It was in bad shape, but it was still something.

As Connell ducked inside and deposited Lily onto the cold earthen floor, he hoped he wasn’t too late to save her life.





Chapter

10



Blessed warmth surrounded Lily.

She lay on the brink of heaven, knowing the warmth must surely come from the reflection of the sun, the golden streets, and perhaps even from the very presence of God himself.

Angel wings enveloped her.

She sighed with contentment.

Why had she been so afraid to die? Especially when paradise was so perfect?

She nuzzled her nose into the angel, catching the faint scent of pine and woodsmoke.

The strong wings developed hands that pressed against her, one spanning the place between her shoulder blades and the other splayed across the small of her back.

When the angel gave a soft moan, her heart lurched and her eyes shot open.

She found herself gazing at a wide expanse of a man’s chest.

Her entire body froze with fear. And the horror of her nightmare returned. Her numb feet that would no longer work to keep her walking. Her icy fingers that she couldn’t keep warm no matter how many times she’d blown on them. The snow that stuck to her eyelashes, blinding her.

When she’d finally fallen to the ground in the absolute darkness of the snowstorm, she’d known she couldn’t get up, that she was going to freeze to death, and that she would be buried in a coffin of snow.

And all she’d been able to think about was how foolish she’d been, that she should have paid more attention to the change in the weather and turned around when it started to snow. That now no one would rescue Frankie. No one would care about Daisy. If she died, the two girls would be trapped forever.

Lily shuddered.

The thick arms surrounding her pulled her tighter.

She couldn’t make sense of where she was or what was happening. But then she lifted her eyes.

Connell’s face was only inches away. His eyes were closed. Weariness creased his forehead. And his breath rose and fell with the steady rhythm of exhausted slumber.

He’d come after her. For the first time in her life, someone had cared enough to rescue her.

A surge of gratefulness rose up swiftly and brought an ache to her throat.

She had the urge to lift her fingers to his cheek and brush the tips along the day-old scruff that had grown over his normally clean-shaven skin.

At the crackling of the fire behind her, she became aware of the heat against her back and the fact that she was warm—something she’d thought would never happen again. From what she could tell, she was lying on the floor, bundled under several blankets with Connell, and wrapped in his arms.

Her gaze dropped again to the view directly before her eyes, and her mind registered what it hadn’t before: Connell was not fully clad. He’d stripped off his shirt and trousers and wore only a wool union suit.

Her body sparked with the acute reality that she was partially unclothed too, that Connell had taken off her dress and left her in only her camisole and drawers.

She knew why. Her coat and dress had been damp from the snow. And of course, being the considerate man he was, he’d shed it to save her. And he’d discarded his garments to give her his body heat, to warm her frozen body back to life.

But she sucked in a hiss anyway, knowing she was in a completely improper, indecent situation, and that she should move away from him as fast as she could. She was plenty warm now, and there was no reason to continue to lie next to him.

She began to wiggle away, but then stopped. He was likely exhausted. If she moved, she would wake him. For an agonizing moment, she held herself rigid, the uncertainty and embarrassment of the situation paralyzing her.

Through the dim light, she found herself gazing at the contours of his chest visible through the tight single-piece undergarment.

She closed her eyes, trying to keep from staring at him but found herself leaning in and breathing in his warm pine scent. The solidness of his body and the security of being so close to him sent a tiny shiver of pleasure through her.

She drew in another deep breath and then stopped.

What was she doing? Had the cold frozen her brain so that she couldn’t think straight?

He gave a soft sigh and she pulled back, mortification dashing through her.

She held herself motionless for a long moment before daring to peek at him. His eyes were still closed, and his breathing even with the heaviness of his slumber.