Behind the Mask (16 page)

Abbi awoke with the sensation that time had passed. Opening her eyes with effort, she became aware of a warm glow diffused over a large room, as if a fire were burning low with no other light present. Looking down the bed, she was surprised to see an arm lying across her, and a head of dark wavy hair resting against her side. She was really here. He was really with her. It wasn’t a dream. She moved to ease the stiffness in her back, and her rescuer’s head shot up as if she’d startled him from a bad dream. Their eyes connected in a way that made her heart quicken.

“You’re going to make it,” he whispered hoarsely.

Abbi spoke with effort. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?” he asked.

“You were . . . my ankle.”

“It was dislocated. A bit painful in resetting, as I’m sure you noticed. But with that splint on for a while, it should be fine.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Since last night. You’ve had a fever. I’m not much of a nursemaid, but it looks as though you’ve made it through.” A slight smile touched his lips. “And the frostbite didn’t damage anything permanently.”

Abbi sighed to realize she’d survived her ordeal, and she turned to examine her surroundings. Her eyes felt grainy but she forced them to look about the dimly lit room. It appeared to be built entirely of logs, with log beams in the ceiling. The furnishings were practical, the decor comfortable. Satisfied with that, Abbi focused on the man at her bedside—her savior. Although he was sitting, she knew him to be tall. His dark hair eased from waves moving haphazardly off his face into loose curls that hung over his neck. He wore a beard that didn’t cover much of his face, but it looked ragged and unkempt. Intense blue eyes hinted at a softer side to an otherwise brusque exterior. How clearly she recalled those eyes!

“It’s late,” he said. “I’ll let you sleep now. If you need anything, just call. I’m not far away.”

“Who do I call for?” she asked. “I don’t even know who you are.”

Cameron hesitated momentarily, wondering how much to tell her. He’d once told her that it was better she didn’t know his name, but they could hardly be nameless and live under the same roof for months. “Just call me Cameron. We’ll talk more in the morning. You’ve been through a great deal and need your rest.”

As he rose and turned to leave, Abbi stopped him. “Cameron?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He only smiled in reply and closed the door.

“Cameron,” Abbi whispered into the empty room. She knew his name, and she was in his home. Perhaps, finally, she could be free of the frustrated urgency that had become her companion since that initial dream had led her to his door. “Thank you, God,” she muttered and slept.

Because his bed was in use, Cameron threw some blankets down over the rug in front of the fireplace and tried in vain to sleep. It was over now. She had made it through. Sensing her natural strength, he felt confident that she’d be up and about in no time.

He felt suddenly lonely and wondered why. He’d been lonely for years, but now he was no longer alone, and the loneliness had become freshly intense. After hours of hovering so close to her, the distance between them now felt brutal. Her presence in his home left him far from indifferent, and again he wondered if he should regard it as a curse or a blessing.

While Cameron considered his own circumstances and state of mind, he wondered what the coming months had in store for them, being thrown together this way. He doubted that he had the ability to handle the circumstances appropriately. She was beautiful and he was lonely. And far worse was the fact that he was deeply ingrained into habits of being alone. How long had it been since self-restraint or respectable discourse had been a requirement of his life? As long as he’d kept himself and the animals fed and living, there had been no one to answer to and no agenda to be met. The dogs didn’t care how he spoke to them; they accepted him no matter how foul his mood. But a young woman was not likely to be so tolerant. The lodge was small, and her presence felt immense.

In spite of the sparse amount of sleep he’d gotten since she’d shown up, Cameron lay awake far into the night, playing every possibility over and over in his mind. He knew there was only one possible way to deal with the situation. He simply couldn’t allow himself to have any personal involvement with her whatsoever. He was here for reasons this woman must never know—for his protection as well as hers. The less she knew about him—and perhaps just as important, the less she liked him—the better for both of them. As far as he could see, there were simply no other options. So he settled his mind on the unpleasantry before him and slept at last.

Abbi woke to a room filled with light, the kind of light that was darkened by clouds but brightened by snow. It took some effort to sit up when she found her body aching and weak. She could see through the windows that snow was falling, but a fire burned vigorously nearby to compensate. It had been recently stoked and she felt grateful for its warmth as she stretched and breathed in the day—and the fact that she had lived to see it. Her aching spirit felt soothed to consider where she was and what had transpired between her and the obsession of her dreams. She pondered her surroundings and felt increasingly comfortable. The bed in which she’d slept was brass but simply designed. The other furnishings were equally simple and practical, but the room had a coziness that reminded her of her own. A wide, cushioned window seat enhanced the window to her right. A man’s clothes and belongings were evident, but it only took a glance to surmise that he was more tidy than sloppy.

A rumbling in her stomach reminded her of how long it had been since she’d eaten. Since she still wore the nightshirt she’d been helped into that first night, she also longed for some water to wash up. Carefully swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Abbi noted the neatly made splint on her ankle. She pondered it for a minute, recalling the events that had led up to her losing consciousness. It all felt like more of a dream than any dream that had ever come to her in sleep
.

Cameron. His name was Cameron
.

Abbi took hold of the bedpost and eased up onto her good leg. She took a moment to measure her equilibrium then stepped toward the door where Cameron had left last night. It only took one step to prove just how tender that ankle was. The pain provoked a sudden dizziness, and she fell to her knees with a hollow thud against the wood floor. Footsteps bounded up the stairs and the door flew open.

“You’ve already been foolish enough to end up here,” Cameron snapped. “Let’s not kill yourself now and waste all my good effort.”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered.

He said nothing as he helped her back into bed.

“I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you,” she persisted, sensing his displeasure.

“It’s no trouble saving the life of a fellow human being. I’d have done the same for an old man.” His voice was toneless but his eyes took her back to their first meeting. He was angry. The tenderness she’d seen in the man who had saved her life was completely absent and she knew it wouldn’t be long before he sent her on her way, leaving her to wonder once again what purpose there might have been for all of this.

“It might have been better if you
were
an old man,” he added tersely, but Abbi could find no retort. As he leaned against the bedpost and folded his arms across his chest, she took in his appearance. In the space of a heartbeat, her entire perception of this man and the circumstances of their coming together changed. She had felt drawn to him, even obsessed. Yet even as she’d struggled for weeks with an undefinable urgency to help him, her feelings had been comparable to coming upon an injured and helpless child, or an elderly woman in need. Something almost maternal and instinctively benevolent had accompanied her thoughts of him. She’d considered her ability to help him at some level of friendship, in the way that Georg was a friend and constant support to her. But as she took in the man before her now, he was neither helpless nor elderly, and the feelings that entered her heart and pumped through her veins had nothing to do with a desire for friendship. He was tall and strong and virile. And they were all alone. She tried to tell herself that her purpose in his life surely had no romantic implications, but at the same time she recalled how close he’d held her to share his warmth—and the fact that he’d been shirtless. A ferocious quivering erupted in her stomach, making it difficult to keep her breathing steady.

Their eyes met boldly for a long moment while she could feel him appraising her in daylight, as she was doing the same to him. This man she knew only as Cameron was dressed simply in high dark boots, narrow black breeches, and a loose-fitting white shirt with an unbuttoned waistcoat over it. The clothes looked well worn but clean, and mildly elegant. She could imagine that he’d once lived a very different life. In spite of his unkempt beard and hair, he didn’t appear the type to live as a mountain hermit, either by his dress or by his manner. And she couldn’t help wondering, as she had a thousand times, what he was doing here and why. In contrast to his attire, he had a rugged appearance. His face looked sun-soaked and slightly weathered, the only indication that he had lived a harsh life.

When she realized that he was waiting for a response, she finally asked, “And why would it be better if I were an old man?”

“Long story—and boring.”

“I’m listening.” She sensed that his dragging out the conversation was more for the sake of an excuse to stay in the room than any desire to offer or receive information.

“After breakfast,” he stated as he strode to the door. “I’m starved. And stay right there.” He pointed a threatening finger at her, looking almost cruel. “No more accidents—for my sake as well as yours.”

He hurried from the room, leaving Abbi in a wake of confusion. The gentle kindness of the man who had saved her life had receded into the man she had met last summer—a man who was angry and afraid. No matter what had led her here, if he was going to treat her like this, she’d rather not stay. She’d known from the start that it was impossible to help him if he didn’t want to be helped. Putting into the mix her own changed perceptions, she knew that staying here with him under these circumstances was not a good idea, dreams or no dreams. All else aside, she needed to get home as quickly as possible. She had already been gone two days, and knew she’d be sorely missed and worried over. Her aunts and Georg would be frantic.

When Cameron returned with a breakfast tray and set it on her lap, Abbi was full of questions. But the answer to her first squelched the others. “Go home?” He laughed. “You must be joking!” His expression was as contemptuous as his tone.

“I’m quite serious,” she said firmly, refusing to be intimidated.

“I think it’s time for a long story,” he said. “Eat your breakfast.”

The food smelled good and Abbi was definitely hungry, but apprehension put her appetite on hold. Cameron sat in a chair near the foot of the bed and folded his arms.

“I’ll eat later,” she said. “Get on with your story, please.”

He sighed as if he were only doing this out of necessity. “We are in seclusion, my dear girl,” he said. “You can’t get any more secluded than this. The only way on or off this mountain,” his words had a distasteful edge, “is through that crevice where you nearly got yourself killed. But of course you already knew that. When that pass is filled with snow, as it is now, it’s completely impossible to go up or down. And there’s no way around. That’s why I’m here—so I can’t be found. And that’s why you’re stuck here with me.”

Abbi let his words sink in while her heart beat so hard she feared it might pound to a dead stop and end her life. Attempting to accept the implications in light of all that had led to this moment, she felt more afraid than she ever had in her life. Her mind went to the people who would be wondering over her whereabouts. Her heart ached for Georg as she considered how he might perceive her absence. And her aunts. And the captain. She’d missed her appointment with the duke’s sisters. Did they think she was dead? What else
could
they think?