Turn To Me (8 page)

I fought down panic.  I couldn't be lost – we hadn't gone that far.  The barn should be right up ahead past this grove of trees.  I hurried forward, certain I was right.  Stepping out from the trees into a large clearing, I was dismayed to see how wrong I'd been.

There were no man-made structures in sight, just woods.  Not even the neat little rows of Christmas trees now, just naturally growing ones.  Uncertain what to do, I walked further into the clearing, wondering if I should stop walking and stay put.  Wasn't that what my dad had always told me to do if I got lost?  Except I didn't know if anyone would be coming to find me.

I wondered if Blane was okay and frustrated tears stung my eyes.  If my failure to get help had resulted in him getting injured, or worse...but I couldn't finish that thought.

A movement caught my eye and I was relieved to see a man standing about fifty yards away at the edge of the clearing near the trees.  I couldn't see him very clearly because of the snow, but I could tell he'd spotted me.

“Hey!” I shouted.  “Can you help me?  I'm lost.”  I started shuffling quickly through the snow toward him, grateful that I'd found someone who would hopefully know where I was.  The man moved and I froze.

He was pointing a gun at me.

My breath seized in my chest as I realized this had to have been the man shooting at Blane and me.  If he was here, did that mean he'd shot Blane?  Oh God, no. 

That thought was abruptly cut off at the sound of a loud crack and I flinched.  I'd thought the sound came from his gun, but to my horror, the ground suddenly shifted and gave way underneath my feet and I was plunged through ice into freezing cold water.

I had just barely enough time to realize what was happening in order to keep my head above water.  I grabbed on to the surrounding ice which broke under my scrabbling fingers.  The shock of the cold water was incredible, I'd never felt anything like it, and I started gasping, my breath coming in short, quick pants. 

I knew I'd hyperventilate if I kept breathing that way so I struggled to stay calm and take slower, deeper breaths, and most importantly, stay afloat.  Looking back at the far bank of what I now guessed to be a small pond or large creek, I saw the man was still standing there.  As I watched, he turned and disappeared into the trees, leaving me to my dubious fate.  Bastard. 

After a few moments, I was able to breathe better and take stock of my situation.  I'd always had a fear of drowning since I'd been a child and had accidentally gotten stuck underneath a raft in the neighborhood pool.  I could still feel the panic of my lungs burning with the need for air as I tried fruitlessly to surface.  But dying hadn't been on the agenda today and I wasn't about to pencil it in. 

Bracing myself, I tried to haul my body out of the water and onto the ice I'd been walking on before - that had held me well enough.  But I couldn't seem to get more than my upper body out of the water, the leverage just not enough to get my balance of weight onto the ice.  My sodden coat, clothes and boots were like dead weight, tugging me downward.

My body was getting rather numb now, the cold not so bad, but I could feel my energy ebbing.  I tried twice more to heave myself out, but couldn't do it.  It was getting harder not to panic and I wondered if I would die here, my body locked underneath a layer of ice. 

Fear threatened to overtake me, sapping my strength.  There was no way out.  No one was coming to help me.

I was going to die alone.

That thought gave me a burst of adrenaline and in a fit of desperation, I kicked my feet like I was trying to swim as I hauled upward.  To my surprise, that was enough to propel me out and onto the ice.

Gasping from the exertion and cold, I just lay there for a moment, relieved to be out of the water.  I knew I wasn't out of the woods yet, literally, and I still had to make it off the ice.  Common sense said I probably shouldn't stand up on the ice, but maybe if I crawled.... 

Getting gingerly onto all fours, I began to slowly crawl away from the hole towards the trees.  When I was near enough that I judged it to be safe, I got to my feet.  To my relief, the ground beneath my feet held.  I'd never been so grateful to hug a tree as I was when I finally reached them.

My brain was foggy, but I tried hard to think.  Judging by how dark it was, I had to have been gone for nearly an hour.  Looking around, I realized that the full dark actually was better than dusk had been.  The snow was reflective and now I could see what I couldn't before, lights off to my left, their brightness amplified by the snow falling from the sky above them.

Wearily, I headed that way, careful to keep in the trees.  Each step was an effort that got more and more difficult.  I was shivering violently from the cold which seemed to reach down into my bones with icy fingers.  I was so tired.  It was tempting to sit down and rest for a few minutes, but I was afraid if I did that, I would never get up.  So I kept moving, putting one foot in front of the other.

Finally, when I was wondering if I could take it anymore, I broke out of the trees and saw the barn about a hundred yards away.  If I'd had the energy, I would have cried in relief.  I went to step forward again and realized with dismay that my body wouldn't obey.  My knees buckled and I landed hard in the snow.  Through bleary eyes, I saw people moving by the barn, and with the last of my energy, I called out for help.  No one seemed to hear.  I tried again, even as darkness crowded my vision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I slowly became aware of several things – I was laying on something soft, was wrapped in something deliciously warm against my naked skin, and Blane was speaking quietly to me.

Blane.

My eyes flew open.  Blane was sitting in a chair beside me, watching me avidly, lines of worry on his face.

“Blane,” I choked out, trying to maneuver an arm out from the piles of blankets in which I was swaddled, “thank God you're okay.”  I finally managed to get my arm out and I reached for him.  His hand tightly grasped mine.

“I'm okay?” he repeated incredulously.  “Christ, Kat...”  He shoved a hand through his hair and took a deep, ragged breath.

“What?  What's wrong?” I was taken aback by his demeanor.  His usual iron control seemed frazzled.

“What happened?” he asked urgently, ignoring my question.  “Why didn't you come back here?”

“I got lost,” I admitted.  “Then I fell through some ice.  I'm so sorry, Blane.” 

In an instant, he'd joined me on the bed where I lay and gathered me into his arms, blankets and all.  “I'm the one who should be apologizing,” he said gruffly, “I should have stayed with you, not sent you off on your own like that.”

“You were trying to protect me,” I defended him.  “It was my own crappy sense of direction that got me lost.”

Blane pulled back so he could look in my eyes.  His smile was warm and tender as he brushed my hair back from my face.  “Your sense of direction isn't to be trusted.   Good to know.”

“I'm just glad you're okay,” I said quietly.  “I kept wondering what if you were hurt and I hadn't sent anyone back to help you?”

He shook his head.  “I'm fine, as you can see.  The guy ran off a few minutes after you left.  I tried to follow your trail, but the snow had started coming down again and I lost it.”

“He found me,” I said, grimly reminded of my encounter at the creek.  “He had a gun pointed at me, then the ice broke and I fell in.”

“He found you?” Blane asked.  “Had a gun on you then watched you fall in the water?”  His voice was flat and hard.

I nodded.  “He left and I was able to get out.”

Blane's eyes shut at this and he rubbed his forehead wearily.  I realized we'd had a lot of drama this weekend, more than I really wanted or needed, and wondered uneasily if Blane was thinking the same thing. 

Looking at Blane with these thoughts rattling around in my head made me uneasy, so I glanced away.  Checking out the little bedroom I was in, I saw the walls were painted a cheery buttercup yellow, the sparse furniture white.  What looked like a hand-made quilt covered the bed and another was wrapped around me.  A small lamp burned on the bedside table, giving a warm and cozy feel to the room.

“Where are we?” I asked.

Blane raised his head with a sigh.  “The upstairs of the barn,” he said.  “George and his wife, Martha-”

“Really?” I interrupted.  “George and Martha?”  I grinned.  “Please don't tell me their last name is Washington.”

Blane's lips twitched in small smile.  “I don't think so, no.  But they were helping me organize the search for you when you came out of the woods.  They offered me this room so you could get warm.”

  “Well, that was thoughtful of them,” I said.  I thought for a moment.  “Do you think they'll give us a discount on the tree?”

Blane was silent as he stared at me.

“What?” I asked.  “I think we should get a discount, don't you?”

“Absolutely,” he said, deadpan.  I cracked a grin.

A knock at the door interrupted us and it opened to reveal a small, older woman wearing faded jeans and a thick green sweatshirt with “Ho! Ho! Ho!” emblazoned in shiny red letters across the chest.  Sparkly silver bell earrings dangled from her ears, making her jingle as she walked.

“Oh good, you're awake!” she said, sitting a small tray on the bedside table.  She took in the sight of Blane cradling me in his arms with an indulgent smile.  “See, young man, I told you she'd be just fine.  Nothing that blankets, some hot tea and a little TLC won't fix.”

“You were right, Martha,” Blane agreed, his arms tightening around me.

“Of course, I was.  Drink the tea, that'll warm you right up.  Your clothes should be dry soon.  Now, if you two need anything else, just let me know,” she instructed.  

“Thank you so much,” I said.  “I'm sorry for the trouble.”

“No trouble at all, dear,” Martha replied, shutting the door behind her. 

“Here, drink this,” Blane said, picking a steaming mug off the tray.

I reached for it, keeping the blanket pulled up to cover myself.  The warm tea was heavenly and I finished the whole cup.  Blane took it from me.

“Hungry?” he asked, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.  I rested back against him. 

“Not right now,” I sighed contentedly, curling into him.  “What time is it?  How long was I out?”

“About thirty minutes,” he answered.

“Oh, so not very long,” I said, relieved.  “That's good.  I thought it had been longer.”

“It seemed long,” Blane murmured, almost to himself.

I tipped my head back so I could see him.  He looked down at me, his fingers lightly combing through my hair.  His face was serious, the lighthearted banter of a few moments ago forgotten.

“What's the matter?” I asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

He shook his head a fraction, his eyes not meeting mine, but following the motion of his hand instead.  When he didn't answer, I decided to try a different tactic. 

“So why would someone be shooting at us in the middle of nowhere?”

“I honestly have no idea,” he said.  He finally met my gaze and my stomach clenched at the look in his eyes, grave and intense.  It seemed like he wanted to say something, and I waited, but his jaw tightened and his lips became a thin line instead. 

“Maybe I just attract trouble?” I mused, only half kidding.  I was hoping to lighten his mood, unsure what had caused the sudden thick tension between us.  He didn't reply as he gathered me closer and kissed me.  The kiss wasn't tender and gentle, but hard and demanding, his tongue sliding against mine as he cupped my jaw in his hand.

I no longer felt cold as Blane's hands moved under the quilt, heating my skin as he unwrapped me from my cocoon.  His lips moved to my bare neck and shoulder, grasping my leg and turning me so I straddled his thighs.  I was breathing hard now, my pulse racing and I bit back a moan when his hands moved to my breasts.

The quilt fell from my shoulders to puddle on the bed behind me.  With a groan, Blane pressed me to his chest, his mouth claiming mine again.  He kissed me with an urgency that both thrilled and frightened me.  I gasped when his hand curved behind my thigh to slip between my legs.  Fire licked my veins at his touch and I whimpered against his lips when he slid a long finger inside me.

“Undo my pants,” he said, breaking off the kiss.  I drew back, trying to keep a coherent thought in my head.

“N...no, we can't,” I said breathlessly.  His hand moved a certain way and I lost my train of thought.  I struggled to remember why we should stop.  “It would be rude…” I managed to say, “and...tacky.”

“Ask me if I care,” he growled.  “Undo them.”

When he put it that way, who was I to argue?  I prayed Martha wouldn't walk back in as my hands fumbled at his belt and zipper, which seemed much more complicated devices than I remembered them being, but I finally succeeded in my task.  He was thick and heavy in my hands and I'd barely gotten my fingers wrapped around him before I was lying on my back and he'd pushed inside of me in one hard thrust.

His mouth swallowed my cries and Martha was utterly forgotten as he moved inside me.  He was everywhere, surrounding and overwhelming me with the force of his passion, and I drank in every moment, wanting to commit it to memory.

It was hard and fast and I couldn't hold on, my body splintering apart into a million pieces under his.  A moment later, his body jerked forcefully into mine and he bit out my name from between clenched teeth.

I struggled to regain control of my breathing and my thighs ached as he lay between them.  I didn't mind, though, my hand combing aimlessly through his hair as he rose up on his elbows to look at me.

“Sorry that wasn't exactly gentle,” he apologized, his fingers brushing the side of my cheek.

“It's all right,” I said with a soft smile.  If he felt that passionate about me, then I certainly wasn't going to complain.  “I'm tougher than I look.”

I knew instantly I'd said something wrong because that pained expression came across his face again before he masked it.

“Yes, you are,” he agreed more seriously than I felt my comment warranted.