Learning to Forgive

Learning to Forgive By Tatiana March

Resplendence Publishing, LLC http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

Resplendence Publishing, LLC 2665 N Atlantic Avenue #349 Daytona Beach, FL 32118 Learning to Forgive Copyright © 2010, Tatiana March Edited by Darlena Cunha Cover art by Les Byerley, www.les3photo8.com Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-226-6 Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Electronic release: December 2010 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Snowflakes danced in the yellow sweep of headlights as Lisa Merrick left the highway and steered down the narrow road covered with ice. The conditions had deteriorated since she crossed the border into Canada six hours ago. She ought to be in a four-wheel drive instead of her ancient sedan, but flying up and renting a car would have been too expensive. Her only choice had been to drive all the way from New Jersey. Or not come at all. She brought the car to a halt and turned on the overhead light to study the map. Tracing her finger along the dotted line, she located Beavercreek Lake. Shouldn’t be long now. As she slipped the car into gear and set off again, the contents of the brief note she’d received churned in her mind. Your father died two weeks ago. He said there was no point in inviting you to the funeral because you wouldn’t come. He also said you wouldn’t care if he was dead or alive, but I thought you might like to know. Hating a ghost takes up less energy than hating someone who is alive. Daniel Bergeron She didn’t know who Daniel Bergeron was, but the last line had torn her up during the journey into the snowy wastelands her father had called home since his release from prison. The words reproached her inability to forgive. Had she been wrong? Instead of losing just one parent when her father killed her mother, her refusal to have anything to do with him after his conviction had cast her into the lonely life of an orphan. And now she was on her way to claim ownership of the log cabin and forty acres of forestland he’d bought after he served his time and made a living by writing wilderness survival guides.

Did that make her a hypocrite? Her fingers tightened over the steering wheel. Without realizing, she pressed her foot on the gas. She’d earned her inheritance, having been an object of curiosity all the way through high school until she was old enough to leave their small Minnesota hometown and hide in the anonymity of New York. I deserve every penny. It was her last thought before the car lurched from a rut and skidded across the icy road into a solid bank of snow. **** Daniel Bergeron swept a satisfied look over the array of sharpened stones on his desk and sauntered into the kitchen. The big copper pot on the wood-burning stove released the tempting aroma of coffee. He poured a mug and sipped the rich brew, deep in thought as he wondered what he should write for the next installment of the Voyager magazine. Making a tomahawk had completed the set of articles on weaponry, and readers had complained there weren’t enough topics on everyday living. More and more, women were getting involved in wilderness craft. The single guys wanted something romantic, in case they managed to snare a girlfriend along for a survival weekend. Building a shelter from snow. Daniel grinned. Perfect. He’d make the dimensions small, which would force couples to huddle together. His amusement turned into a grimace when he felt a stirring in his groin. Things must be getting desperate, if the thought of a female, even in purely abstract terms, sent his blood into a surge. He ached to feel the soft skin of a woman next to his, run his fingers through strands of silky hair, fill his nostrils with feminine scents. He hadn’t touched a woman in months. Not since last summer, when a restless yearning had sent him on the two-hour drive to Three Peaks, the nearest tourist resort, where he could enjoy a fling without repercussions. He closed his eyes but couldn’t bring back the image of the blond aerobics teacher from Toronto he’d bedded. She had treated sex like exercise. Daniel could have sworn she took her pulse after they collapsed in a heaving tangle of sweaty limbs and straining lungs. The experience had left him dissatisfied, in spirit if not in body, and he hadn’t been back for more. He shrugged to dismiss all thoughts of the opposite sex. What a man couldn’t get, he learned to live without.

Cool air greeted him as he returned into the huge vaulted living room, where his desk overlooked the front porch. In the massive stone fireplace, dying flames flickered. No logs remained in the wicker basket beside the hearth. Daniel glanced at his watch. Nearly four. Daylight would fade soon. He needed to brave the cold and chop more firewood before it got dark. Resigned to the task, he tipped his head back and drained the last of the Colombian dark roast, then propped the empty mug beside the tomahawk blades on his desk. In the small square hall, he yanked on a pair of boots and shrugged into a sheepskin coat. The bulky garment restricted his movements, and he looked forward to discarding it as soon the effort at the woodpile sent heat pumping through his muscles. Out in the yard, his footsteps crunched on the pristine snow. The wind whistled in the air—too loud, too even, Daniel thought. He halted, cocked his head, and finally yanked away the wool cap that muffled his ears. Despite his native heritage, he preferred his hair short. His barbering skills left room for improvement, but at least the blunt cut offered some protection against the cold. As Daniel stood still and listened, he absently ran his fingers along the bristle on his jaw. To his dismay, he hadn’t inherited the Native American trait of weak facial hair. In the old days, when the opinion of women mattered, he used to shave every morning, and once more in the evening on the rare occasions he had a date. The sound was real, he decided. In the distance, the thin monotonous cry of a car horn pierced the frozen air. Long and steady, as if someone had lost their patience and planted the heel of their palm over the steering wheel, keeping the sound blaring. And then it stopped. Surrounded by the snowbound world that created a deep, soothing silence, Daniel pulled his knit cap back on and hesitated. The track to Beavercreek Lake hardly saw any traffic at all. One car was an event. Two would have been unprecedented. He glanced across the yard to the shed, where he stored his high wheelbase truck. Snow barricaded the doors. Instead of keeping the drive clear, he had stocked enough food to last until spring, intending to spend the winter in peaceful solitude. But now the keen instincts of a man attuned to living in the wild told him that someone was in trouble. Instead of skirting the side of the house to the woodpile under the roof canopy at

the back, he waded through the powdery drifts in the front, until he reached the narrow road, covered with a slippery glaze after the weekly run of the snow plow in the morning. The frost felt like a knife that peeled the skin from his face. He flexed his fingers inside the leather gloves to keep them from going numb. It had to be almost forty below. He chose not to run, as breathing in too fast might risk damage to his lungs. He found the car a half mile down the road, the right side buried in snow. The distance didn’t surprise him, since sound carried well in a hard frost. By now, a shroud of darkness covered the narrow track that ran through the snowbound meadows edged with dark forests. Flakes floated down, like a white veil that curtailed visibility. Already a thin layer covered the car. He couldn’t have told the color, had it not been for the crimson square over the hood, where the heat from the engine had melted the snow. He called out. No response. The vehicle was a small sedan. He couldn’t see the shape clearly enough to guess at the make. Icicles on the front grille suggested a broken radiator, leading him to suspect that any attempt to drive on might damage the engine beyond repair. He reached for the door handle. Maybe the car was an older model that didn’t automatically lock the doors, or the safety feature had disengaged when the engine stalled. Relief poured through him when the door sprung open. He bent down for a better view of the body slumped over the steering wheel. A woman, or a small man, wearing a light blue down jacket and jeans. A striped blue and yellow wool cap covered the head. Whoever it was, they must have hit their chin on the horn, raising the alarm purely by chance. He craned past the driver to check for passengers. Apart from a black leather purse on the front seat, and a small red suitcase at the back, the car was empty. As carefully as he could, Daniel peeled away the woolen cap. A curtain of shiny black hair tumbled over the steering wheel. Shit. His gut clenched in recognition. He could only see the curve of her cheek, but that single feature sufficed. He’d watched her on the television screen often enough, a doe-eyed beauty with ivory skin and delicate features that combined east and west. Daniel had learned enough about her to build an image of a glamorous and selfish creature who possessed no mercy or compassion. His capacity to develop a hard edge of hostility toward someone he’d never even met had come as a surprise. And now she had arrived.

Lisa Merrick. The daughter of Lawrence Merrick. He had expected trouble from her, but not so soon and not in person. For one brief instant, a macabre idea flashed through his mind that he could simply leave her there. Hypothermia would set in quickly. She’d be dead by midnight. And, unlike the other time, they couldn’t even pin the blame on him. As Daniel studied the young woman, unconscious and defenseless, the resentment that had surged through him eased, and sanity took over. He would do his best. If she had internal injuries, he might aggravate them by picking her up, but he had no choice. The sub-zero temperatures would kill her for certain. He replaced the cap on her head and leaned down to unclip the seatbelt. Crouching, he slipped one arm beneath her knees, then changed his mind and reached for the purse on the passenger seat. Better not leave her valuables in the car. The suitcase he could come back for later. With infinite patience, he eased her out and gathered her in his arms. Holding her high, the pale face sheltered from the cold against his chest, he lifted one foot to kick the car door shut. The slam dislodged a flurry of snow from the roof. As it settled, he clicked the remote key he had removed from the ignition and clutched in one gloved hand. Then he set off for home. **** Cold. So cold. Frost tightened its merciless grip on Lisa Merrick as she drifted up from the dark grave of unconsciousness. Her body floated. Swaying, rocking, defying gravity. Icy dampness trickled down her cheek. Beavercreek Lake. The car must have skidded off the road and fallen through ice. Somehow, she’d gotten out, only to freeze to death. A dark shadow loomed over her. Fear kicked in her chest as she sensed a man, tall and lean. Silent. Angry. The ghost of her father, come back to prevent her from getting her hands on his property. “Are you killing me too?” Numb with cold, her lips barely formed the words. “What?” With a little jolt, her body bounced up and down. Her face rubbed against a smooth surface. Not wet. The sharp smell of wool and leather teased her nostrils, adding to her sense of disorientation.

The deep voice spoke again. “Are you hurt?” She burrowed closer to the source of warmth. “Cold.” “You crashed your car. Do you think you have any injuries? Can you feel your legs? Does your head hurt? Or your neck?” As her mind focused, she became aware of a pair of strong arms curled around her, and the steady crunch of footsteps on snow. Someone carried her. The damp streaks on her face came from melting snowflakes. She could feel the icy pinpricks that needled her skin as a gust of wind hurled another flurry of snow through the air. “Cold,” she whispered. The arms around her tightened, lifting her higher. Warm air swept across her frozen cheeks. She blinked her eyes open. Barely inches from her face, stern features scowled beneath a red wool cap, the full lips forming a circle as the man carrying her breathed warm air onto her skin. He paused and studied her with concern. “I’ll get you into the house soon.” “My hands…” She curled her fingers tight and tucked her fists in the crook of her elbows, but the shiny surface of her down jacket offered little warmth. “Sorry.” Above her, a pair of straight dark brows came together over eyes of opaque black. “I should have looked for gloves or mittens in the car.” “I’d taken my gloves off to look at the map…didn’t put them back on. They were on the passenger seat.” “I only found your purse. They must have tumbled down when you crashed.” “My h-h-hands are…f-f-frozen.” The cold rendered her face into an icy mask that released the words with reluctance. “Put your hands under my coat.” The man adjusted her position to give her more room to twist around. “Undo the top button and slide your hands in through the gap. You don’t want to get frostbite. It will hurt like hell when the blood gets circulating again.” “I can’t.” Her fingers refused to obey, fumbling at the big plastic toggle that fastened the sheepskin coat. “My hands are too numb.” “Take my hat.” His head dipped. “Wrap your hands in it.” “You’ll get cold.”

“I haven’t been exposed as long as you have, and walking keeps me warm. I’ll be fine.” When she hesitated, his face drew into a frown, giving the angular features a harsh look. “Do as I say. I’m not inclined to beg and plead.” Puzzled by his angry tone, Lisa reached up to tug the wool cap from his head. A shaggy crop of straight black hair tousled in the wind. Despite the situation, her trained eye catalogued the details, took in the shiny condition, the terrible styling, and the urgent need for a trim. Whoever had rescued her, vanity didn’t number among his sins. Blood started to pulse painfully through her fingers inside the cocoon of warm wool. Before she managed to control her reaction, a whimper of distress rose in her throat. “Hurts?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. Lisa bit her lip. A blush of shame at the sign of weakness crept up her cheeks, delivering blessed heat. Before the murder, she’d revered her father, had tried to imitate his tough-guy cop act. And then, when she found herself parentless at twelve, the world had turned into a frightening place. Coping came at the cost of turning off deep feelings, but through some strange emotional role reversal, little things had become the catalysts that sent her tears flowing. “It’s okay to admit it hurts.” Amusement edged the man’s deep voice. “I’m not going to call you a crybaby.” Startled, her misty eyes flicked up to his face. That’s what her father used to say, when she was small and hurt herself and wouldn’t stop howling. He’d scoop her into his lap and hold her, smoothing the strands of hair away from her brow. “Now, we don’t want to be a crybaby, do we?” he used to whisper, comforting her, until the tears dried. And now he was gone. For the first time since Lisa had received the tersely worded letter signed by Daniel Bergeron, a sense of loss engulfed her. Never, ever, would she be able to tell her father that she was sorry for having abandoned him. She would never have the chance to hear his raspy voice again, would never see his crooked smile. Hating a ghost takes up less effort than hating someone who is alive. For eighteen years, she’d clung to her hate, and now she had nothing. Nothing but a log cabin and forty acres of wilderness.

A sob tore from her chest as the shock of the accident knocked down the protective walls she maintained around her emotions. Love for her father, shut away and denied, expanded in her heart. The force of it slammed through her, like a physical pain that pierced every cell. A heavy weight of regret descended upon her, sinking her down in the protective shield of the arms that carried her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.” “Hush. Don’t cry. You’ll get frostbite in your cheeks. The pigment will die, and you’ll get a white circle that will never tan. You don’t want that.” The stranger lowered his dark head and opened his mouth, breathing another cloud of warmth onto her skin. Lisa pinched her eyes shut, but the tears welled past the barrier, rolling down her skin, almost instantly turning into an icy trail that would have felt like the probing fingertip of death if the stranger hadn’t been there, keeping her safe. “It’s all right,” he told her. Desperately, she wanted the words to be true, but she knew they were not. It would never be all right. That night, eighteen years ago, a single bullet had robbed her of the ability to love, forcing her to hate instead. It would have been wrong to continue loving her father after he betrayed his family with a terrible act of violence and the lies that followed Lisa huddled against her rescuer, felt his lips almost brushing her skin, and it dawned on her that she liked to hear him say the words anyway. His promise that everything would be all right gave her the first sense of hope she had felt in eighteen years.

Chapter Two

Damn, damn, damn. The thud of footsteps on the crust of snow echoed Daniel’s somber mood as he carried Lisa Merrick down the track, her slender body shivering in his arms. His earlier thoughts returned to mock him, and his lips tugged into a grim smile. He’d wished for a woman. Now he had one. She’d disrupt his routine and make him responsible for any medical emergency, leaving him torn with guilt if something went wrong. And even if she recovered with nothing worse than a headache and a few bruises, he’d be stuck with her until the following Monday, when the weekly snowplow passed through again. For seven days, he’d be the target of her venom, once she discovered what Lawrence Merrick had done with his worldly goods. With a resigned sigh, Daniel steadied his arms around the female viper slumped against his chest and scaled the three steps to the porch. His battle-scarred soul could take a few more poisonous bites and survive to see the spring. At least she appeared to have stopped crying. For an instant, pity had pierced his shield of resentment. Then he had hardened his heart by recalling the endless rejections he’d witnessed. They had eroded Lawrence Merrick’s will to live. Lisa’s stubborn refusal to get in touch with her father had blunted his battle against the disease that had eventually killed him. Daniel edged forward on the porch and shoved the door open with his hip. During the harsh winter, you didn’t lock up when you went outside. Inability to insert a key with hands numb from cold might result in a slow death, safety and shelter only a short step away on the other side of the thick spruce panel. As he made his way to the hall, the floorboards creaked beneath the extra weight he cradled in his arms. Daniel halted and stomped his feet to shake the snow off his boots. Normally, he protected the Native American rugs that covered living room floor by removing his footwear

before he entered, but the disruption Lisa Merrick caused in his house would start right at the front door. He crossed the open plan space to the big couch and a pair of armchairs, past the fireplace on the left. Normally, the ornate seating in crimson velvet, castoffs from a resort hotel that had changed décor from period to modern, stood in a semicircle around the stone hearth. With the cold snap, he’d pushed the furniture out of the way, so he could sleep on a futon in front of the fire, and feed the flames all through the night without having to get up. “How fast were you driving?” he asked as he lowered Lisa on the couch. “I don’t. Know. Not fast. Maybe. Twenty. Miles. An hour.” The words trickled from between her frozen lips. Daniel discarded his gloves. It reassured him to hear her talk, and the answer bore no signs of mental confusion from shock. Kneeling by her feet, he unlaced her hiking boots and pulled them off. The socks felt damp, and he removed them too. Her feet radiated cold, like blocks of ice. He rubbed her toes between his hands, each foot in turn. All the while, she kept a watchful eye on him. “I don’t think you’re seriously injured.” Daniel broke the strained silence, maintaining his focus on her frozen feet, feeling oddly ill at ease, reluctant to raise his gaze to her face. “You might have a headache for a few days. Pay attention to how it feels. If there’s bruising in your brain, the pain might get worse, and we’ll have to get you to a doctor.” “I don’t think I’m hurt. Just cold. My hands—” He finally looked up. She huddled down, shoulders hunched, fists tucked beneath her chin. “Let me see.” Still on his knees, Daniel moved up along the couch and inspected her hands. The brittle, lifeless skin showed early signs of frostbite. He closed her scarlet-tipped fingers between his and rubbed. Every few seconds, he paused to blow warm air on the frigid skin. A strange burning sensation crept up his arms and spread deep inside him. The heated reaction of his body made a stark contrast with her frozen hands. “I’m sorry.” Irritation flared in his gut at the disturbing sensations, and he shrugged his shoulders to shake them off. “The best thing for you would be a hot bath, but I used up all the water this morning. The well is frozen. I have to melt snow for water, and it takes time.”

“The fire.” She nodded to the direction of the ashes smoldering in the grate. “I want to warm my hands over the fire.” “No. They’re still numb. It’s easy to burn when you can’t feel the heat.” “It’s cold in here.” She sank against the cushions and closed her eyes. Shivers racked her body, sending the wool cap sliding from her head. Daniel straightened. For a long moment, he stood still and studied the face framed by a cascade of black hair. Dainty nose, a pair of finely drawn eyebrows, long dark lashes that made twin crescents over the pale cheeks. Most of her looks came from her Japanese mother. Only the stubborn jaw and the wide mouth, now so bloodless that it almost matched the ivory skin, resembled her father. As Daniel surveyed Lisa Merrick, a tension coiled in his abdomen, as unwelcome as the woman herself. It would be a long week, even if she didn’t give him grief over the property. He should have foreseen he wouldn’t be immune to her beauty. After all, he’d spent endless hours in the recreation room at Rockhill Penitentiary, watching her on the television screen, listening to Lawrence prattling on about his beloved daughter. He knew that after high school, she’d gone to New York, joining the ranks of hopefuls who sought a career on stage. Lack of talent or lack of luck had ended her dreams, but her good looks and flawless skin had secured her a position as a cosmetics demonstrator on a home shopping channel. Thanks to her, Daniel knew how to apply eyeliner or highlight his cheekbones, should the need ever arise. But mostly, Lawrence had talked about the happy days, before the tragedy that cost him his wife, the love of his daughter, and fifteen years of his freedom. Since his release from prison three years ago, Lawrence had told Daniel the truth about that fateful day, but never once had he expressed regret or blamed Lisa for putting him behind bars. It was something they had in common—not blaming others. “I’m cold.” In front of him, a pair of blue eyes blinked open and stole his breath. A snatch of conversation drifted through his mind. Those are contacts. No, that’s her real eye color. I swear. Like mine, but more vivid.

Lawrence had turned around in the row of plastic prison seats, his faded blue eyes snapping wide to let Daniel examine the shade. “I’m out of firewood.” Daniel reined in his straying thoughts and retreated a few steps, as if the added distance would protect him against the force of attraction. “I’ll get you some blankets.” He climbed up the steep stairs into the sleeping loft that created a second floor in the center of the cabin. He returned with four blankets—every single one he possessed. The sound of clattering teeth greeted him. He’d never heard anyone make such a racket from cold. Lisa lay on her side, curled up into a ball on the sofa. One by one, he shook the blankets open and spread them over her shaking limbs. “I need to go outside and chop firewood, so we can get the flames going.” “I’m f-f-freezing. How l-l-long will it take?” “Ten minutes. I’ll bring in the first batch, stoke the fire, and then go back for more.” “I can’t feel my f-f-fingers.” Daniel swore. He undid the toggles on his sheepskin coat and yanked off the garment. Quickly, he bundled her bare feet inside, then moved up along the sofa and sank to his knees beside her. “Give me your hands.” She freed her arms from the folds of the blanket and lifted her hands, palms out, like a priest about to bless a congregation. He curled his fingers around her wrists and slipped her hands beneath the thick sweater and the thermal undershirt he wore. The icy contact on his skin made him flinch, and yet a slow heat built up inside him, spreading downward until it settled between his legs. As lust expanded in his groin, Daniel felt the painful squashing of his shaft against the sturdy fabric of the flannel-lined pants he’d designed for the Voyager mail order catalogue. Erection proof. Perhaps they should add that to the product description. The crazy thought flashed through his head, and he fought to rein in his physical reaction to her touch. “Better?” he asked when the clicking of her teeth subsided. “Hmmm…” She said nothing more, only burrowed her fingers deeper into his chest. “Wait.” He gripped her wrists, withdrew her hands from inside his clothing, then released his hold and stood. “I’ll get you some brandy. Helps the circulation.” “Don’t go.” “Just into the kitchen. I’ll be back in a second.”

Fool, fool, fool. Daniel cursed himself on every step across the room. What was wrong with him? A pair of icy hands had given him a sharper sense of pleasure than anything the blonde from Toronto had done to him during a marathon in bed. And two simple words—don’t go—had given him the greatest reward of being needed he’d felt in years. For a brief instant, his mind opened up to the past. An echo of the choices he’d made surrounded him. He’d been a protector then, and, although it had come at a price, he had kept his family safe. A flash of self-worth made him stand tall as he recalled how his sister had launched herself into his arms after he saved her from disfigurement. That same sense of purpose, the belief that he had fulfilled his destiny, had been the force that allowed him to survive the four years in prison without letting his mind become poisoned with bitterness. His family had needed him, and he had done what he must. But this was different. He owed Lisa Merrick nothing. Soon they would be on opposing sides of a legal battle for Lawrence Merrick’s property. He should keep his distance. Treat her with suspicion and cool indifference. But instead he found himself worrying about her. Angered by the protective instincts he seemed unable to suppress, Daniel jostled the cans of soup in the cupboard until he found the dusty bottle of brandy. His jaws clenched as he struggled with the cap. Whatever crimes he and Lawrence Merrick may have committed, a pair of drunkards they were not. He gripped the bottle tight, twisted the top, and finally was able to slosh a few fingers into a squat glass. He strode back into the living room, hoping he’d find his uninvited guest asleep. No such luck. Her blue eyes followed his progress across the floor. He bent down. Not too gently, he wedged one arm beneath her shoulders and propped her up. “Drink this.” He raised the glass to her lips. “What is it?” Her words muffled into the liquid. “The best Napoleon brandy money can buy.” He tilted the glass, until the contents touched her lips. She pushed his hand away. “I don’t drink.” “It’s only a small glass of brandy.” Daniel sighed and relaxed his shoulders, forcing the tension in his muscles to ease. “I’ve got to get you warm. If you don’t want to be left alone while I go out to the woodpile, I can’t get the fire going. This is the best way.” He pressed the glass to her

mouth again. “Drink up. If you don’t like the taste, knock it back in one. You’ll feel the heat almost instantly.” She slanted him a mutinous look but tipped her head back and drank. As she swallowed, a shudder racked her body. She choked and coughed, then emptied the glass in two big gulps and gasped for breath. Mesmerized, Daniel watched as her tongue darted out to lick away a few amber droplets clinging to the edge of her mouth. “Good girl,” he said as she handed the empty glass back to him. The words made him cringe as soon as they were out. Why should he cosset and comfort her? She was the enemy. By tomorrow evening, she’d be spewing poison and tearing her scarlettipped claws into him. He eased her down on the sofa, but she bolted upright. Before he realized what she was doing, she had twisted sideways, caught the hem of his sweater, and rammed her icy hands against his abdomen. He jerked back and spluttered out a curse. She ignored his reaction. Except for a bowed head that hid her expression, she showed no sign of embarrassment or retreat at all. “Please,” she said. “My hands are cold, and you’re warm.” She darted a glance up to his face. “Why do men generate so much more heat in their bodies than women?” “Greater muscle mass.” His voice came out strained. “Burns up more energy. Heat is a byproduct.” She said nothing. Her hands inched higher inside his clothing. Shock rippled through Daniel as her cold fingers brushed past one taut nipple. Did she realize what she was doing? Or were her hands too numb to detect shape and texture as she roamed up his chest? “I really need to go outside and chop firewood,” he muttered, attempting a firm tone. Her hands descended to his waist, too close to where his loins throbbed with neglected needs. Daniel gritted his teeth. Damn. Was she playing games? As he prepared to bolt to his feet, her arms slid to form a circle around him. “Hmm…you’re so warm…” She pressed her face against his old army-green sweater. “Like a big hot water bottle.” “Lisa…” “Hmmm…” Her lids drifted shut. She didn’t say anything, didn’t ask how he knew her name. Instead, she linked her hands together around his torso and clung to him. “Like a big hot water bottle in my bed,” she muttered.

Her voice sounded husky, as light as a feather. The teasing impact sent tiny explosions up and down his nerves. “Lisa…” He gripped her wrists and tried to untangle her arms. “I need to go outside.” In the freezing air. To cool down. “No.” She butted up against him, like a kitten demanding to be stroked. “You’ll keep me warm.” “Stop it.” He released his grip on her wrists and propped his hands on her shoulders, attempting to shake some sense into her. The desperate needed to restore some sanity into their situation made his voice rough. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her head flopped back, as though she found it difficult to control her movements. Her eyes flew open. A lazy smile spread on her face and a pink glow warmed her pale cheeks. “I’m suffocating in this coat.” She jerked her arms free from around him. Almost toppling over, she fumbled at the front of her padded jacket and pulled the zipper down in one long sweep. Helpless, Daniel knelt by the couch and watched her wriggle on the cushions, contorting to slide her arms out of the sleeves. Beneath the jacket, she wore a ribbed white sweater that clung to her breasts. The garment revealed every feminine curve and contour, emphasized every peak and valley. Despite the cool air that surrounded them, sweat broke out on his brow. “Phew.” With a careless swing, Lisa tossed the jacket aside, sending it floating like a blue cloud to the floor. “That’s better. Now you can keep me warm.” She lunged at him. Her hands groped their way beneath his sweater, returning to nestle against his bare chest. She tipped her head back and smiled at him, the bloodless lips now suffused with a rosy tint. Alarm bells pealed in his head. Whichever way he turned, every road led to disaster. But the invitation in her languid gaze pulled Daniel down like a snare around his neck. Struggling against the force of attraction, he gave in, and lowered his head to cover her open mouth with his. She grew still, like a bird preparing to flutter away. Reality doused the hard rush of desire that had taken hold of him, and Daniel steeled himself for the shove, for the slap, for the indignant scream. She’d reject him. Good. At least one of them retained a shred of judgment. But the angry protest didn’t come. Lisa didn’t push him away. Instead, her arms coiled tight around him. With a shuddering sigh, she clung to him and abandoned herself to the kiss.

Like evil spirits, the six long months without a woman danced around him, mocking the need that swelled in his groin. Daniel told himself to stop. He got as far as putting his arms out to hold her steady while he prepared to force their bodies apart. But then Lisa flicked her tongue into his mouth, and his mind shattered. In one hungry lurch, he captured her and hauled her close. His hands found the hem of her sweater and slipped inside. Smooth skin beneath his fingers, soft lips against his. Daniel eased Lisa down on the couch, barely pausing to pull up the blankets so she’d be protected from the cold when he removed the rest of her clothing. As he climbed in beside her beneath the covers, the cruel truth crystallized with each thundering beat of his heart. He had no resistance against her charms. Whatever his opinion of Lisa Merrick, his male hormones had ideas of their own. They wouldn’t be denied access to the feminine delights he’d been invited to sample. Trembling, he stroked the dark strands away from her face. She snuggled up against him and tilted her head toward him, seeking another kiss. Why? Like a sledgehammer, the question pounded in his mind. Her brazen behavior made no sense. With a growl of frustration, Daniel pushed away his hesitation and lowered his mouth to hers. Nothing could make him stop now—not even the knowledge that once the stone chimney cooled down, freezing air would seep in from outside. The heat rushing through his veins would have to keep them warm. He would take what she offered tonight and worry about her reasons tomorrow.

Chapter Three

The fluffy white sweater and the thin cotton top that Lisa wore beneath gathered in folds over his wrists as Daniel swept his palms upward along her smooth skin. “Raise your arms,” he ordered, only briefly breaking the hungry kiss so he could rasp out the words. She arched her back on the couch. Her abdomen pressed against his erection, sending a ripple of lust along his spine. Her breasts strained in the confines of the white padded bra, and he barely conquered the urge to tear the intimate garment apart to reveal the rosy peaks hidden beneath. Slowly, Lisa stretched her arms overhead, her small hands clenched into fists as she closed her eyes. A lazy smile of contentment drifted across her features. Quivering with impatience, Daniel fought to keep his touch gentle. Taking care not to trap her hair, he slipped the cotton top and sweater past her shoulders and tugged them off. He tossed both garments aside and curled his arms around her waist. In one rolling move, he settled on his back and yanked Lisa to sprawl on top of him. Freed from holding her as gravity anchored her close, his hands set to roam her bare skin. The tiny hooks on her bra drew a muffled curse from his lips. Finally succeeding, he snapped the catch open. The fabric sprang away from her body. Unable to wait long enough to slide the straps down her arms, he leaned up, took one tight nipple into his mouth and closed his teeth around, tugging, flicking his tongue against the hard bud, tasting her. The harsh guttural moan of pleasure that rose in her throat tore along his nerves. Any remaining doubt over the rightness of his actions smoldered in ashes, as five years of pent-up passion and yearning since he went to prison took over in one blind burst of need. “Lisa,” he murmured. “Tonight, you’ll belong to me.”

As Daniel heard his words, unplanned and instinctive, something flickered inside him, a dark knowledge of secrets he kept even from himself. Not wanting to explore his subconscious, he brought down the shutters in his mind and concentrated instead on the physical sensations that made his body shudder beneath Lisa’s slender frame. “Take this off.” She tugged at his sweater, wriggling against him as she fought to free him from the garment. With a surprising strength, she managed to yank up the wool, until it bunched beneath his arms. Effortlessly, he lifted her body above him, and rose to a sitting position, all the while holding her in the air, his hands curled about her waist. She folded her legs to straddle his thighs. As he released her and pulled the sweater over his head, a trail of scorching pleasure raked over the ridged muscles of his chest. He glanced down. A scarlet fingernail remained poised against his skin. “Lisa,” he groaned. “What are you doing to me?” “Do you like it?” she whispered, and repeated the dragging motion. His body jerked with the impact of the burning sensation. “Yes.” “Good,” she said. “Then I’ll belong to you tonight.” She lowered her head and took one of his taut flat nipples into her mouth. The pressure that pounded in his cock nearly drove Daniel beyond reason. With the last remaining clear thought, he muttered for her to wait, then slipped free from beneath her and crossed the room to the desk, where a nearly forgotten box of condoms lay among the clutter in a drawer. After a second of hesitation, he returned to stand in the pale glow of the ashes that glittered in the fireplace, making sure she could see him. He wanted her to have the reassurance that he was protecting her, although he had no wish to stop and discuss the fact. His hands shook so hard he struggled to remove his remaining clothing. Heat pulsed on his skin, warding off the chill. Lisa watched him from where she lay tucked beneath the blankets, only her face and the curve of one milky shoulder visible in the darkness that had become solid outside. A thought crossed his mind that he should have found a bed sheet to keep the rough bedding from scraping her skin, but the realization came too late. Nothing could be allowed to distract him now. “So beautiful,” he murmured as he fell to his knees beside her.

Wanting to keep her warm, he didn’t cast aside the blankets, sacrificing the pleasure of seeing her naked in the orange light that flickered in the fireplace. Instead, he reached underneath the covers and helped her discard her jeans, and the leggings she wore beneath. She extended one arm to trace her hand along the contours of his shoulders. “So strong,” she whispered. “So safe and warm and strong.” Something inside Daniel shifted and broke at her words. Instead of the hard and fast possession his body craved, the quietly spoken words of praise made him want to slow down, focus on her pleasure before his own. Slipping beneath the covers beside her, he set out to explore her body with lingering touches and roaming kisses. He made a trail with his lips down her slender neck, pausing on her breasts, tasting, tugging, until he drew a harsh sound of pleasure from her throat. Only when her voice rose, urgent and rough, did he descend to the soft swell of her belly. Pressing hot kisses on her satiny skin, he smoothed his hands over the curve of her buttocks and eased down the flimsy panties so he could toss the scrap of silk aside. All the while, she ran her hands over his trembling muscles. Her lingering fingers found a dozen points on his body to explore—searching, learning the texture of his skin, the shape of his limbs, but always remaining a maddening distance away from where he wanted to be touched the most. “Lisa,” he said, his voice revealing his need. Her lids lifted, and a shadow of a smile passed over her lips. Without hesitation, she reached down and closed her slim fingers around him. “Is this what you’re asking for?” she whispered. The mental image of her scarlet nails over his cock nearly finished him there and then. Sucking in a sharp breath, Daniel gritted his teeth until he felt control returning. Not speaking, merely nodding, he edged his hand up along her thigh, intending to make her climax before he dared to get inside her and risk leaving her unsatisfied. “No.” She shifted on the couch and gripped his wrist with her free hand, stopping him from getting any closer. “Not there.” Cold fear drenched him, as though Lisa had pitched him naked into the frosty air outside. How could she expect him to turn back now? Did she really believe him capable of achieving the feat of not finishing what they had started? His whole body clenched taut. Every nerve screamed

in protest. Even the blood in his veins seemed to have ceased flowing as he waited for Lisa to make her meaning clear. “I want you. Inside me. Now.” Her fingers tightened around his cock, then released their hold, and instead she gripped his shoulders with both hands, as though she possessed the strength to lever him into position. His blood surged. A fiery spark ignited in his balls. His muscles bunched and flexed, and in one fluid move he braced his body over hers, nudging her legs apart, settling in the cradle of her thighs. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Are you ready?” “Yes.” Her eyes met his, indigo in the low light, and her lips opened to demand a kiss. His control barely held. He wanted everything at the same time. He crushed a kiss on her lips, balanced his weight on one arm to free his hand so he could feel the soft swell of her breasts, and with an effort that left him trembling, he kept the pace slow and steady while he inched inside her. Once fully embedded, tight, hot, pulsing with need, he paused and lifted his brows in an unspoken question. Lisa responded with a single nod. Watching her, fearful of seeing a flicker of regret on her face, Daniel withdrew and then thrust back inside. A whimper of pleasure escaped from Lisa’s lips and mingled with the deep growl that tore from his throat. Shaking off the restraints of concern, Daniel freed his strength into a hard rhythm of advance and recoil, striving for a balance between the hunger that consumed him, the desire to make the act last forever, and the knowledge that his release wouldn’t be complete unless Lisa found hers first. Time and time again he drove into her, nearly lifting her slender body off the couch. Lisa’s lids came down to shield her eyes, but only after he’d seen them darken with passion. Blood pounded at his temples, in his cock, pulsed through his heart. When Lisa twisted beneath him, seeking to take him deeper, urging him to increase the force and speed of his motion, the gesture of acceptance brought him to a shattering peak. Dear God, not yet. The silent denial rang through his mind as his body bowed and began to convulse, but at that precise moment, he felt the first of the tiny contractions inside her. Eyes closed tight, with a cry of exaltation, Lisa arched beneath him. Her head flung from side to side.

Her hands clutched his shoulders. Daniel recalled the scarlet fingernails that had drawn a fiery path across his chest, and another explosive release ripped through his body. When he finally stilled and lowered his shoulders to roll away from her, Lisa wrapped her arms around him. “No,” she said. “Stay with me.” “I’m heavy. I’ll crush you.” “Doesn’t matter.” Gently, he lowered himself on top of her, using his elbows to brace his weight. Lisa held him tight. Her hands drifted over his back in soothing strokes, and for a few moments Daniel felt oddly complete, as if he had finally found a fragment of himself he hadn’t even known was missing. Then he slipped from her body. They became separate again, and the sense of loneliness that had always dominated his life returned. **** The fire caught, crackled in the hearth. Daniel added another log and adjusted the blanket wrapped about his shoulders. He glanced over to the couch where Lisa shifted in her sleep. Dark hair peeked from beneath the covers and tumbled over the edge. He returned his attention to the flames, hoping that the yellow glints with their constant flicker would soothe his troubled thoughts. Lisa. How easily her name formed in his mind. Conflicting emotions rioted inside him. Passion had surged through his body while he claimed her, but doubt had invaded his thoughts as soon as he hastily dressed and went outside to chop firewood by torchlight. Longing had grown in his heart after he returned indoors and took off his clothes again, struggling to sleep beside her, his rangy frame cramped in the confines of the narrow couch. And now, apprehension closed like a stormy cloud around him, edged with worry, even regret, at how easily he had succumbed to her artless seduction. What did she want from him? Why had she offered herself to him? Soon she would wake up, and Daniel assumed he’d find out the answer. He straightened, and with silent steps he closed the distance to the sleeping woman. The night retained its grip of surreal on him. His gaze lingered on the delicate features, now softened with the innocence of sleep. Her wanton expression during the moment of completion returned

to haunt him—head tipped back, eyes closed, the ragged breaths rushing in and out through parted lips. A thought drifted through his mind of what life could be like if someone like her truly belonged to him. Not just for a fleeting moment, but forever. Slept in his bed every night. Walked alongside him every day. With an angry shrug, Daniel dismissed the foolish thoughts. Regret banded around his chest at the burden of his past that made such dreams impossible. Suddenly, he could no longer wait, could no longer bear a single instant of uncertainty over what had sent Lisa Merrick into his arms. He placed one hand on her shoulder, gave a gentle tug. “Lisa. Wake up.” “Hmmm…” She rolled onto her back and pulled the blankets up to her chin. “Wake up.” He lifted the covers, allowing cold air to sweep her skin. “Brrr…” Her eyes blinked open. No tenderness, no pleasure, only alarm and suspicion flickered in their wary expression. She stared up at him, sinking deeper beneath the covers. “Oh my God.” Her voice rose in horror as her naked state dawned upon her senses. To make sure, she peered beneath the blankets, then pinched her eyes shut in an attempt to deny the situation. “What happened?” she asked. The words were full of fear, her voice barely audible. “Did you…rape me?” Daniel had been prepared for almost anything. Except that sordid accusation. “Rape you?” Anger rose inside him at the prospect of another injustice he might have to live through. “Is that your game?” “My game?” She edged up on the couch, one hand propped against the pillows, the other hand clutching the blankets to her chest. Her hair cascaded like a dark waterfall to her slender shoulders. “Your plan. To come up here, seduce me and then cry rape.” “Seduce you?” With an uncertain air, Lisa surveyed the room. Her brows furrowed as she took in her clothes, carelessly strewn about the floor, mixed with his. “Oh my God.” She leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes. Her expression grew grim. “You got me drunk and took advantage of me.”

“Took advantage of you?” He leaned over her, although with her eyes shut the threatening pose went to waste. “You threw yourself at me. I could accept what you offered, or fight you off. I chose the easier option and went along with what you wanted.” Her eyes blinked open. She met his scowl with one of her own. Her chin rose to a stubborn tilt. “You got me drunk.” “Drunk!” he roared, anger rising to the top in the volatile mix of emotions that churned inside him. “I gave you one small glass of brandy. After that, you launched yourself at me. You damn near tore my clothes off.” He shook his head in disgust. “Drop the act. Nobody gets drunk from one glass of brandy.” “I do.” Her free hand fisted and pummeled the sofa cushions, while the other hand continued to protect her modesty by clutching the blankets to her chest. “I’m half Japanese. I lack the enzyme that metabolizes alcohol. I get drunk very easily. Even a small amount of alcohol makes me lose all my inhibitions.” Daniel straightened and took a backward step. He stared at Lisa. A red flush of shame decorated her cheeks. Distress flickered in her eyes. In the back of his mind, he could hear the raspy voice of Lawrence Merrick, relating how his wife couldn’t wait to strip off her clothes after a single glass of red wine. “Shit,” Daniel muttered. “Did you at least use a condom?” He spun on his heels. The blanket he’d draped over his shoulders caught under his feet and fell off as he stalked across the room to the desk. Daniel barely noticed the cold, or his nakedness. He pulled open a drawer and grabbed the box of condoms. Shaking it in his hand, like some primitive musical instrument, he stormed back to the couch and tossed the box down in her lap. “The used one’s in the trash, in case you want to see the evidence.” To his fury, she opened the flap and shook out the foils, counting them, inserting them back in the box one by one as she made the tally. “There are two missing,” she said when she finished. Her chin rose and the blue eyes nailed him like a pair of police lights. “Did we do it twice?” “You are not the only woman in the world.” Her eyes widened. The startled look in them gave Daniel a small sense of victory. It almost made the night with the blonde from Toronto worth the effort, as the sex with her saved

him from having to tell a lie. No way was he going to let Lisa Merrick discover that she was only the second woman he’d slept with since he came out of prison a year ago. “What happened?” she asked. Refusing to look at him, she studied the room. Her gaze lingered on the oil painting on the wall, a medieval jousting scene with knights charging on warhorses. The work would fetch a pretty penny on the open market, and yet Daniel knew he would rather starve to death than sell it. The artist was Miguel Serrero, a former Rockhill inmate who’d built up a reputation since his release. Daniel had once saved the man from a savage beating in the exercise yard. A little note that said nothing but “Thanks” had accompanied the gift. It had taken Daniel two months to notice that the knight who didn’t wear a helmet bore his features. “You crashed your car a half mile down the road,” he said, and quashed any budding fantasies of being a knight in shining armor to Lisa Merrick. “I found you and carried you here. You would have died in the cold.” “I remember that part,” she told him tartly. “Where am I?” “You know where you are.” Feeling the chill on his skin, finally aware of the naked display he made, Daniel began to get dressed. He rifled through the clothes on the floor, flung Lisa’s over to her and pulled on his own one by one. “After all, you drove all the way from New Jersey to be here,” he said as he yanked the sweater down over his torso in a violent gesture. “How do you know I’ve come from New Jersey?” He loped across the floor, past the kitchen, into the small room where Lawrence had slept and returned with a stack of unopened letters in his hand. He tossed them on top of the blankets that covered Lisa. The stack fanned open, further inflaming his anger as he thought of the dedication with which Lawrence had composed each letter, even when so ill that he could barely hold a pen in his hand. “I know you’ve come from New Jersey because that’s where your father wrote to you every week. And I know that you were headed here, because you’ve seen the address on each envelope you returned to sender.” Lisa didn’t look at the letters, didn’t touch them. Nothing in her expression acknowledged their presence on her makeshift bed. “I guess you’re Daniel Bergeron,” she said. Her voice sounded flat, emotionless.

“Right.” “Did you live here with my father?” She shook the blankets, flicking the letters to the floor, ignoring them, as if she had merely rearranged the bedclothes. “Yes.” Daniel strode over and crouched to pick up the envelopes, smoothing them into a neat stack. His hands shook as he recalled how Lawrence had no longer been able to hide his grief over the returned letters when death drew near. Lisa stared down at him from the couch. “I want you to leave. Now.” “I’m not going anywhere.” “I don’t want you on my property.” Daniel stood to his full height, almost feeling sorry for her. Another hope would be crushed, although losing a modest nest egg that might have brought financial security was unlikely to matter as much as having to give up her dreams of a career on stage. Despite the animosity between them, he didn’t relish being the bearer of bad news. “Your father made a will. He left everything to me.” Daniel clutched the stack of letters in one hand and lifted it high. “Until the end, he hoped that you’d get in touch. He didn’t want to die without explaining what really happened to your mother.” Lisa made a small, muffled sound of denial, but Daniel ignored it. He released the letters and let them rain down on her lap. “When you ignored his attempts to contact you, he left the house to me.” “No!” Her cry of denial rang sharp with distress. “Yes.” Daniel pulled on his coat and picked up his boots that lay discarded on the living room floor, instead of their usual neat place in the hallway. “Why didn’t you tell me about the will?” Lisa stared at him. A single tear rolled down her flawless skin. “You sent that note to me. You could have told me. I drove all the way up here for nothing.” Daniel shrugged and turned to go, raising his voice as he walked away from her. “The will needs to go through probate. You’d have heard from the lawyer in a couple of weeks. I never expected you to come hurtling across the country like a hound from hell. You never bothered to visit him when he was alive.” Daniel stomped through the hall and slammed the door on his way out. He didn’t want to hear if Lisa shouted back a reply, or burst into tears, or picked up an oil lamp from the table at the end of the couch and hurled it after him.

He didn’t need the tug of her feminine distress on his conscience. In prison, he’d developed a skill of wiping his mind empty of every thought, focusing only on something abstract, impersonal. Now he concentrated on the snow. He watched the flakes drift down, up, sideways, as the gusts of wind buffeted them. North-north westerly, he decided. About four miles per hour. When he had enough of snowflakes, he focused on the smell of wood. The deep smoky pine, the tarry spruce, the light birch. It didn’t work. Whatever he did to occupy his mind, Lisa Merrick broke through. The snow was the white of her skin. The birch released the delicate fragrance of her hair. The wind carried the words she’d whispered to him during the night. As Daniel brought the axe down on the logs, he cursed his lack of means that only allowed him to have Beavercreek Lake Drive plowed once a week. He cursed the trick of fate that had sent Lisa Merrick to his door on a Monday evening instead of a Sunday, leaving her stranded with him the greatest possible number of days. He cursed his own masculine urges, which were even now stirring in his pants, mocking him with the knowledge that at least one part of him desired her company. That was the worst aspect of the situation—the painful mix of lust and anger and longing that simmered inside him and might at some point reach a boiling point. Before the week was out, Daniel feared he would go mad.

Chapter Four

She remembered. Alcohol added a hazy layer, as though looking through a misty pane of glass, but when Lisa closed her eyes, the sensations of the night flooded back. Hungry lips that roamed her skin. Gentle hands. The weight of a lean, muscular body over hers. The heavy thrust and drag inside her that had brought the ultimate release. Her own keening cry of abandonment. Not merely physical pleasures, but for a brief moment, the capacity to feel love for another person had been awakened in her heart. The tender emotions that she’d kept locked inside for almost two decades had broken free and shattered her with their force. What had caused the crack in her defenses? Was it the alcohol? The shock of the accident? The euphoria of survival? The physical discomfort and the need for warmth? Or could it be something about Daniel Bergeron? Recollections teased her, like fragments of a hidden truth that she failed to fully comprehend. The intensity flowing from the quiet stranger had nearly scorched her. Had he somehow managed to thaw her frozen feelings? What made him different from other men? How could he access the reservoir of love she had so carefully shut away from the age of twelve? Did she need to fear him, in case he possessed some hidden key to unleash the emotions she lacked the courage to deal with? Shrugging her shoulders with irritation, Lisa closed her mind to the confusing thoughts and shoved the blankets aside. What did it matter? She would reel back her vulnerabilities and forget what had taken place between them. By nightfall, she would be halfway back to New Jersey and would never need to figure out why Daniel Bergeron had managed for a fleeting instant to knock down the walls she had built around her heart.

She swung down her feet, her toes curling against the chill of the floorboards. The cool air drew goose bumps on her skin. Teeth clattering, limbs shivering, she leaned down to pick up the clothes Daniel had slung over to her and pulled them on—underwear, socks, leggings, jeans, longsleeved cotton top, the white angora sweater. Dressed, she crouched in front of the fireplace, her hands extended out to the leaping flames. An empty ache settled inside her as she accepted the news about her inheritance. The money from the sale of the property would have been welcome, but the pain inside her reached further, through a door that despite her resistance had creaked open. She had adored her father. Having to deny her love for him had consumed every shred of her twelve-year-old willpower. She’d had no choice. How could she stand by a man who had killed her mother? In such circumstances, no room could exist for forgiveness, no second chances could be given, no mitigating circumstances considered. But the love had refused to die. She had pushed it deeper and deeper inside, until it almost disappeared, turned into a hard kernel of pain that she could call hatred instead of love. She had sought solace in that makebelieve hatred, proud that she’d had the strength to stand firm against all the letters her father had written to her over the years. And yet, despite her rejection, his presence in the distance had given her the strength to deal with life. She’d been able to take risks, safe in the knowledge that if some disaster befell her, he would do his best to help. Always, always, she had known that her father loved her. Until now. The legacy she had expected as his parting gift had been withdrawn. Letting him die without saying goodbye had severed the parental bond, and a stranger had become the family she had refused to be. Daniel Bergeron. His image filled her mind. Rangy body, roped with lean muscle, dark eyes, a face drawn from harsh angles and planes. While her skin grew warm in the glow of the flames, Lisa forced her heart back into its frigid state. No need to worry about whatever spell Daniel Bergeron might have put on her, because by tonight he’d be ancient history, consigned to the same trashcan of life where she had slung her father eighteen years ago. A door slammed in the hall.

Lisa whirled around, the long strands of hair whipping into her face. Two muffled clunks told her that Daniel had paused to remove his boots. She glanced at the empty wicker basket by the hearth. He must have gone out to the yard to chop more firewood, although she hadn’t heard the blows of the axe against the logs. The inner door swung wide, and Daniel stepped through, carrying her red overnight case. Frost had painted a healthy glow to his cheeks, and melting snowflakes clung to his long lashes. An odd tightness invaded her stomach at the sight of him. Lisa held her breath as she watched a droplet break loose from the dark lashes and run down past his wide mouth. “There was no need.” She conquered the pull of attraction, as well as the instinct to thank him for retrieving her belongings. Her words came out cool, polite, like a gracious guest talking to the doorman at an expensive hotel. “I’ll leave as soon as I’ve made a couple of phone calls. I’ll just have to carry the case back to the car.” She crossed the floor and relieved him of the burden, managing not to flinch when their fingers brushed. A peculiar rattling sound from inside the case accompanied her as she hurried back to restore the distance between them. She dumped the piece of luggage on the couch. The impact created an icy updraft. Her brows drew together. Her expensive toiletries would be ruined if they had frozen solid overnight. “Make a few telephone calls?” Daniel drawled. His mocking tone made her back snap rigid. “Yes.” “Have you tried your cell phone?” “No.” Lisa raked a hasty glance around the room and spotted her purse on one of the pair of padded crimson armchairs. “There’s no signal.” Daniel watched her closely. “You’ve got to hike almost five miles, back to the main highway.” She felt his eyes on her, cool and unsympathetic, measuring her reaction. Worry set to churn in her stomach. “I can drive the rest of the way, once I get back to the car.” “You radiator might be cracked. Even if you can get the car started, which I very much doubt, you’ll wreck the engine if the coolant leaks out.” “I don’t care.” Her voice grew sharp. “I just want to get out of here.” “Have you looked outside?” Daniel asked. “No.” Lisa met his question with an angry scowl. “I didn’t think there was anything to see.”

He reached her in three long steps. Curling his hand over her upper arm, he pulled her into the hall and flung open the front door. A cloud of snow billowed in the air. “Look,” he said. “What do you see?” The frost hit her like a solid wall. All around, silence blanketed the world draped in a thick layer of white. “Snow,” she said and turned to frown at him. “I see nothing but heaps and heaps of snow.” “That’s right.” He slammed the door shut so hard the floor shook. “More than a foot fell overnight.” “So?” She cocked one eyebrow, a skill that had taken hours in front of the mirror to perfect. “Should I be impressed?” “No. You should be worried.” He stormed back inside, leaving her to follow. “It means that you’re stuck here. Beavercreek Lake Drive is a private road that only serves the fishing camp by the lake and this cabin. In the winter, I pay to have the road plowed once a week, so I can get the mail delivered. If it snows more than twelve inches, you can’t get out until next Monday, when the snowplow comes through again.” The frost seemed to creep in through the windows and trap her into an icy cage. “Monday?” Lisa blurted out. “And it’s only Tuesday today?” “All day.” “I could walk out to the highway and call a cab from there,” she suggested, but her shoulders sagged as she accepted the impossibility of the idea. “Wade five miles through deep snow in temperatures of forty below?” He shook his head in refusal. “Can’t let you do that. Too dangerous. I’m used to these conditions, and even I struggled on the way to get your suitcase.” “Thank you,” she said in a strained voice. Daniel nodded to acknowledge her grudging gratitude for fetching her belongings, then retreated to the desk that overlooked the snow-covered porch. “I’ve got work to do, and I don’t run a guesthouse. Figure out what you can do to earn your keep while you’re here, depleting my supplies.” He threw a derisory glance at her elegant red case. “Unless that thing’s filled with food, I’ll be forced to offer you some of mine.” “No,” she muttered. “It’s toiletries, which the frost will have ruined, and appliances, which will be useless without electricity.” “Appliances?” He arched a single brow at her.

Effortless, unpracticed, the apparent ease of the gesture infuriated her, and Lisa barely managed a curt nod. “I have a solar panel and a small wind turbine,” Daniel continued. “I use electricity sparingly, only for my laptop and printer. The radio runs on batteries, heating is wood, lighting is oil lamps, and cooking is either wood or bottled gas.” “It’s personal care appliances.” Embarrassment stiffened her limbs, but something in his stern manner drew reluctant replies from her. “Hairdryer and depilator and an electric toothbrush.” He met her explanation with a puzzled look. “What’s a depilator?” “It’s a machine…to pull body hair out by the roots.” Heat flared on her face. “I use it on my legs. To keep them smooth.” She saw his throat move as he swallowed. He cleared his throat. The sound broke the strained silence. “I see. I guess I…enjoyed the benefits last night.” Daniel turned to face the desk, pretending to be disinterested in the conversation. “I’ll give you a manual toothbrush. You can use the hairdryer and the…other thing if you want to. Let me know first. There’s only one socket, and I need to unplug the laptop and the printer.” “No need.” She choked out the words. “My legs can sprout the hairs of a gorilla for all I care. You can forget the idea of any repeat performance. What happened last night won’t happen again. I want your word of honor on that.” Daniel rose to his feet and turned around. Although his movements were slow, the hard scrape of the chair against the floorboards revealed the controlled flare of temper. “My word of honor?” he growled. “In case you’ve forgotten, you jumped my bones, not the other way round.” He yanked a desk drawer open and pulled out the box of condoms. Striding up, he proffered the packet at her. “Here. You can put these away, and only take them out if you want to use one.” Gingerly, Lisa took the purple box, as though it burned her fingers. Panic over the prospect of being trapped in the cabin with Daniel added to the sting of his remark about her brazen behavior, and she flung back the insult. “What guarantee do I have that you won’t simply ravish me without?” His features turned to stone. When he spoke, the words came out low and harsh. “Lady, I wouldn’t stick my dick in you without protection if you paid me. God only knows who’s been there before, based on how you acted last night.”

Rage roared through her at the unjust slur. Words of protest failed her. The raw emotions Daniel drew out of her had lain dormant since her childhood, and they now thrust her back to the immature reactions of a twelve year old. Bursting into a fierce cry, she flung the box of condoms on the floor and launched herself at him. Her fists rose to pummel Daniel’s chest, but he captured her easily, closing his arms around her, holding her tight, so that she had no room to swing her arms. He leaned down to whisper into her ear. “Your body’s stronger than your mind. See how you are arching up against me, seeking my warmth.” With a sharp little shove, he pushed her away. “You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me. You wanted me last night, and you enjoyed every second of what we did together. Today you hate me, but your hate burns so bright because you can’t deny that you threw yourself at me. And if it weren’t for your pride, you’d admit that you want to make love to me again.” Her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides, and although Lisa nearly choked with indignation, she knew she couldn’t deny his words. A childish reaction had sent her rushing up to Daniel and so feebly pounding at him with her fists. Whatever the reason, she had allowed him to gather her in his restraining embrace, even though she possessed the skills to flip him over on his back and break his bones. “You bastard…you...” Helpless, she glowered at him. To her utter fury, Daniel burst out laughing. “That’s a fact. Despite thirty years together, my parents never bothered to marry.” He shifted back, away from her, and settled at the desk, as if she had ceased to hold his interest. “Kitchen, cleaning, it doesn’t matter. As long as you make yourself useful.” He spoke without turning to look at her. “If we both try hard, we might get through the week without killing each other.” Lisa saw his shoulders stiffen when he realized what he’d said. For some reason, that small token of concern blunted her anger. “It’s all right,” she told him in a tired voice. “My father killed my mother. It’s a fact I’ve learned to live with. You don’t have to screen your vocabulary to protect my feelings.” “I didn’t mean to—” “I said it’s all right,” she snapped, frightened as the protective wall around her emotions seemed to crumble again. “Don’t cosset me like I’m still twelve years old.”

She marched up to the couch, unzipped her overnight case, and found the cause of the rattling sound. The bottle of imported mineral water she used to rinse her face had frozen and shattered. Now the ice was starting to melt all over her clothes. With an angry mutter, she began to deal with the mess, carefully avoiding even the smallest glance in Daniel’s direction. It was only a week. She’d get through it. And then she’d be gone. She would never have to see Daniel Bergeron or think of him again. **** Whack. Whack. Whack. Daniel listened to the rhythmic blows that rang outside with a steady interval between each whack. He ceased typing on his laptop and jerked to his feet. He’d heard the trail of footsteps across the floor, and the twin slams of the inner and outer doors. What the hell was Lisa up to now? He thought she’d gone out on the porch to get some fresh air, but it sounded like she was trying to knock down his house. A fierce scream pierced the air, short and sharp, so loud it rattled the windows. Whack. Another scream. Whack. Another scream. His heart nearly stopped as he pictured her, limbs maimed, bleeding a crimson trail over the snow-covered ground. He was a fool to have left her unsupervised. Lawrence had told him that she was a stubborn little package, unwilling to admit the limitations of her frail frame. The woodpile was a challenge she would have felt compelled to tackle. The rugs on the floor skidded beneath his feet as he raced across the room. Flailing, he regained his balance, bolted out through the hall, not bothering to yank on his boots. Lisa. He wanted to cry out her name but had the presence of mind not to startle her while she might be bringing the axe down on a stump of wood. He rounded the corner, halted, drew a shaky breath. What the hell? Lisa stood facing a log propped up on the block. Arms stiff by her side, she gave a little bow. Her blue down jacket hung from a nail beneath the roof canopy. Her black hair shone in the cold winter sun, and the red sweatshirt, which had replaced the white angora sweater, made a bright contrast against the sparkling field of snow.

She straightened, raised her arms, and roared out a war cry. Snatching the axe with both hands, she rushed up to the block. In a wild swing, she sliced the thick stump of wood into two halves that bounced up in the air before landing in the snow. She lowered the axe, turned to the empty chopping block, bowed, and spoke a few words in Japanese. And then, she repeated the sequence. Daniel picked a safe moment, when she had stooped to collect the split logs, to make his appearance. “Lawrence told me he started you on martial arts when you were five. Glad to see you’ve kept it up.” She turned to him, bowed, and barked out a few words in Japanese. “I hope that doesn’t mean I’m next.” A smiled tugged at her mouth, and his heart jumped. She didn’t have the look of someone who had much reason to smile, and to have brought about that small twitch of amusement gave Daniel a deep sense of pleasure. Ignoring him, Lisa lined up the next log, bowed and screamed and swung the axe. “Does this mean that you’ve decided not to work in the kitchen?” he asked. “You don’t have any shoes on.” Whack. “I forgot them.” “I’ll cook, if you want me to.” “Can you?” “Can I what?” Whack. “Cook.” “I used to be an actress.” Puzzled, he edged closer. “What? Is there a connection between acting and cooking?” “Most actresses have second jobs waiting tables. I got promoted to the kitchen.” Whack. “Why have you stopped screaming?” “With you standing there, I don’t need to work up my aggression.” Whack.

Daniel couldn’t stop the grin that spread on his face. Had he gone mad? They were arguing, trading insults, but every time she spoke, the mere fact that instead of ignoring him she acknowledged his presence caused a surge of warmth inside him. Lisa ceased her attack on the woodpile to stare at his shoeless feet. “Go back inside before you get cold. I’m certainly not going to let you stick your icy feet against my belly. I’ll be fine here. I’ll chop a few more logs, and then I’ll fix us some lunch.” “Should I be worried?” “About what? My cooking? Or that violence runs in the family and I’ll sneak up on you with the axe?” “That you’re being nice to me.” Daniel threw the comment over his shoulder as he set off to return inside. “Don’t worry,” she shouted back at him. “It won’t last.” Her words lingered in his mind while he changed into a dry pair of socks and started a fire in the cooking stove in the kitchen. That violence runs in the family and I’ll sneak up on you with the axe. It had never crossed his mind that she might worry about the genes she had inherited. All the more reason to make sure that she learned the truth about her father before she left. But not yet. He had to prepare her first, get her used to talking about the past. If she opened her mind to the prospect of forgiving her father, she might find it easier to forgive herself, once she found out what really had taken place on that day eighteen years ago.

Chapter Five

The haunting beauty of the landscape filled her senses—pure blue sky above, pristine fields of snow that stretched all around, and a dark line of evergreen forests on the horizon. Lisa inhaled a deep breath. The frozen air no longer seemed like a predator waiting to trap her in a deathly grip. The effort of chopping firewood had sent blood pulsing through her veins and suffused her skin with heat. As she took her anger out on the woodpile, her courage returned. The events of the night lost their hazy veil and came into a clear focus. A shudder of excitement ran through her as she recalled one detail after another. Daniel naked beside her. The feathery touch of his fingertips over her breasts. The sharp tug when he closed his mouth over a straining peak. The musky scent of his skin and the coarse texture of his hair as she tangled her fingers into the strands and pulled him closer to demand yet another kiss. The slow even strokes inside her that seemed to go on forever while the tension coiled higher and higher and finally pushed her over the edge. Always trust your heart. Be honest with yourself and others. Honor above all. The snippets of moral code her father used to pepper their conversations with rattled through her mind. Grudgingly, Lisa accepted that she owed it to Daniel to admit the truth and apologize, even if he had stolen her inheritance and taken her into his bed as casually as picking up a basketful of goods in a grocery store. Taking her time, Lisa loaded the split logs across her arm. She clasped her other hand on top for balance and marched back inside. “Can you come and help?” she shouted from the hall. Daniel appeared at the inner door, his posture graceful despite the tension evident in the stern line of his mouth.

Lisa lifted her arms to pass the stack of firewood to him. “I don’t want to go inside with my dirty shoes on,” she explained. “I know. Your father told me your mother was fanatical about it.” “It’s the custom in Japan. Only barbarians go inside without taking their shoes off.” Lisa sighed and steeled herself against the memory, but something inside her compelled her to continue. “You know, my mother once joked that she’d rather be shot than allow people in the house with their shoes on.” “I know.” Daniel accepted the stack of split logs from her. He spoke in a low voice. “Your father burst into tears when he told me that story.” Lisa shifted on her feet, not really wanting to hear the words—not prepared to talk about her father, and yet wishing to hold onto the moment. The knowledge that Daniel had known Lawrence Merrick created an edgy pressure inside her. The prospect of being able to share more of such memories added to the impulse she had developed at the woodpile to end the hostilities and instead offer an olive branch of friendship. “About last night…” she started awkwardly. Daniel halted on his way back to the living room and turned. His shaggy black hair flopped over one eye. The straight dark brows lifted in question. “I’m sorry…for suggesting that you had forced me against my will. I accept that I was…an eager participant. I was just…so very embarrassed. Normally, I avoid drinking altogether. I know what it does to me. Makes me loose and reckless. And—” She stopped to draw a long breath. “I have to admit that…you are someone a woman would…find attractive.” Peering from beneath her lashes, she gave up all attempts of eloquence. “Okay, I’ve groveled and apologized. Is that good enough for you?” “Yes.” He nodded, unsmiling. “I knew the truth about last night anyway, but it’s good to hear that you know it too.” Lisa kicked off her hiking boots. “Phew. If everyone was this good at making up, we’d soon have world peace.” Too self-conscious to look at Daniel, she swept past him into the kitchen. Her heart beat a little faster as she wondered how he would interpret her words that a woman would find him attractive. Any woman. Including her. According to the clock on the wall, it was two in the afternoon. Tuesday.

Only five and a half days of emotional turmoil to get through before she could leave the cabin and return to the safe isolation of her lonely life in New Jersey. **** “I’m impressed.” Daniel surveyed the kitchen table, set with his plain white china on a small square of fabric that featured an abstract pattern in crimson and black. “I didn’t know I had a table cloth.” “You don’t. That’s my silk scarf. No pots and pans are allowed near it.” He cast a worried glance over the display. “Why do you risk it to serve lunch?” Lisa hesitated, and when she spoke, the echo of distant grief softened her tone. “My mother taught me to seek beauty in simple things. An intricately shaped twig, a smooth stone. Symmetry between the placement of knife and fork. The color of vegetables on the plate.” “I’m more partial to how things taste.” He wiggled his brows in an effort to lighten the mood. Despite the quick smile Lisa gave him in return, shadows lingered in her eyes, and Daniel decided to probe a little further. “Who brought you up?” She picked up his empty plate, carried it to the stove and heaped it full from the two frying pans sizzling side by side. “My aunt. My father’s sister. She only lived a few blocks down the road, so I didn’t have to move far.” “Did she treat you like one of her own?” Lisa strolled over, placed the plate in front of him and went to fill her own. “I guess she did, in her way. She already had four kids. Steven, the youngest, had just gone to college. I brought back the teenage sullenness she thought she’d left behind. She was…fazed by the whole thing. Didn’t know what to do with me, what to say.” “Did you get counseling? Talk to anyone?” “Only to the police and the attorneys. They tried to make me see a shrink afterward, but I refused to speak to him. I just sat in the chair for the required fifty minutes, then got up and left. After a few sessions, they decided it wouldn’t help, so I was allowed to stop.” “But you don’t mind talking to me now?” He watched her standing at the stove, dishing food onto her plate and then passing it back into the frying pan, a pointless shuffle with no other purpose but to delay facing him. “Lisa?” he prompted.

“No,” she replied after a long pause, returning to settle opposite him at the rough pine table covered by an expensive silk scarf. The combination reminded him of the pair of them, his lack of polish and her sophistication. “I don’t mind.” She picked up a fork and poked at the scrambled eggs and bacon on her plate. “Tell me what it is like to live out here.” “Isolated. Peaceful.” He took a mouthful, nodded his approval at the tang of soy sauce that teased his taste buds. He’d never developed the knack of adding exactly the right amount and hadn’t used the stuff since Lawrence died. “Sometimes it’s boring,” he added. “Often lonely.” “What do you do for female company?” Lisa dipped her chin and peered at him through her lashes, a habit he’d noticed. The effect wreaked havoc on his pulse. And his hormones. “What about it?” he asked, as cool and casual as he could manage. “The lack of it,” she specified. “If you don’t have a girlfriend waiting somewhere, you’re not going to find one here.” “I’m not?” He cocked a brow at her. Her cheeks flushed. She hastily loaded her fork with the fluffy golden egg mixture and took a bite. Daniel occupied himself with the food, trying to hide his grin at her discomfort. When he spoke, he kept his tone light, his attention on the plate. “No girlfriend. Hasn’t been for a while. There are a couple of tourist resorts within an easy driving distance, but the women I’ve met there didn’t hold long-term appeal.” “But you have…met women here?” “Sure.” He shrugged, fighting the tension that unfurled in his gut at her apparent interest in his love life. “I’m not a monk. And it’s not a difficult journey when the roads are clear.” Bless the blonde from Toronto. She’d come to his rescue again. If he hadn’t thrown away the business card she gave him, he’d have sent her flowers. “And my father…did he have anyone in his life after he got out?” “You mean, a woman?” Daniel glanced up. Lisa gave a wordless nod. “No,” he said. “Never. He showed no interest in women, apart from the memory of your mother. Not even before he got too ill to travel.”

Lisa pushed the food around on her plate. “He had an affair, shortly before…” She shook her head and lowered her fork. “I can’t talk about it.” She jerked to her feet, so hard the china rattled on the table. “I can’t eat. My stomach is all knotted up.” “You need to eat.” He reached across the table to trap her wrist in a firm grip. “You need to consume a certain amount of calories in order to stay warm. And we don’t have enough food to let any go to waste.” “I’ll save the rest and heat it up later.” She tugged against his hold until he released her. In silence, she retreated to the stove. He watched as she scraped the leftovers into a transparent plastic bowl and snapped a lid on top. “There’s hot water, if you don’t mind doing the dishes.” He crossed the room to stand beside her. “The cooking stove heats the water in the tank mounted up on the wall. With the well frozen, you have to melt snow in a pan and fill the tank from a hole at the top. I did it this morning while you were asleep.” She didn’t pull back, but allowed their bodies to touch while he leaned over to open the safety valve on the tap above the sink. Her eyes were downcast. A rosy blush adorned her cheeks. “Be careful,” he said. “The water is close to boiling. I’ll get you a bucketful of snow and you can add enough to cool down the water.” The temptation to drape his arm over her shoulders and anchor her close under the pretext of a casual gesture while he instructed her nearly overwhelmed him. His body shook with the tension of their physical proximity. Daniel finished his plumbing demonstration in haste, unsure of how long he could remain in full control of his urges. “I need to get back to work,” he muttered. “I’ll bring you some snow first.” He strode off, but the instant Lisa was out of his sight, he yearned to rush back to her. A deep sigh shook his shoulders as he wondered how he would manage to keep away from her for five long days and nights. **** Everything in the rustic kitchen spoke of order and discipline. Neatly labeled plastic containers stood ranged on cupboard shelves. Oatmeal, rice, flour, sugar, pasta. Inside the drawers, utensils lay in tidy rows. A chrome draining rack occupied the far end of the massive countertop made of grey slate. Even the junipers outside the window appeared to be marching in a straight line.

Lisa popped the plug in the sink and swished her hand around to clean the suds from the edges while the water drained. She had lingered over each plate and knife and fork, putting off the moment when idleness would allow the uneasy thoughts to invade her mind. Like a stormy breeze that flutters a curtain, Daniel’s presence a short distance away penetrated her senses. Her heartbeat seemed to match the clicking of the keyboard that came from the living room through the open doorway. She imagined him bent over the desk, his shoulders strong and broad, the dark hair tousled. In that brief unguarded instant, a memory of the night caught her in its grip. Those shoulders, naked, glistening in the firelight, poised above her. With a nervous flick of her wrist, Lisa picked up the dishcloth and started to wipe the counter, trying to banish him from her thoughts, trying not to think of what might happen between them during the five days and nights stuck together in the primitive cabin, surrounded by the frozen wilderness that kept her captive. In addition to the unsettling physical effects Daniel had on her, he had managed to get her talking about her childhood by asking casual questions. Focusing on the practical—who had fed and clothed her—but she expected that as the days wore on, he’d probe deeper. A sudden flare of anger sharpened her movements. Her fingers smarted as she used too much force to wring the cloth dry. What right did Daniel have to stir up the past, so that the long forbidden images of her father flashed through her mind? Make a fist like this. Not with your thumb inside. Like this. She closed her eyes, felt a strong hand curling around her childish one. That’s enough for today. Your Mom’s calling. Go wash your hands before dinner and I’ll tidy up here. She heard her father’s voice echoing in the big basement room filled with exercise mats and Aikido swords and staffs and knives, the walls lined with sketches he’d copied from old lithograph prints of Samurai fighting scenes. The longing she’d kept suppressed for eighteen years surged inside her, so powerful it choked her throat and threatened to spill out in tears. It had taken all her courage to turn her back on her father as a confused twelve year old. Over the years, the task had become easier, but only because she had distanced herself from the past by pretending it didn’t exist. The price of being able to deny her love for her father had been to lose the ability to love altogether. What was happening to her now? An empty ache clawed inside her, the pain so fierce it almost made her double over and hug her body for comfort.

Daniel had warned that if she allowed her hands to get frostbite, it would hurt like hell when they began to thaw. Did the same happen with a heart? If you allowed your emotions to become frozen, did it hurt like hell to let them come back to life again? The questions bombarded her, weakening the walls she had erected in her mind and her heart, allowing more memories to seep through. In the end, the need to find some activity that would distract her from the painful past drove her out from the sanctuary of the kitchen. “Daniel?” He bounced to his feet. Rushing across the living room, he leaned down to her, his stern features in a frown of concern. “What is it?” “I need something to occupy my mind. I feel on edge, ready to explode. It’s like when you know that something terrible is about to happen, and you can’t prevent it.” She stared up at him in anguish. “You know what I mean? The gut-wrenching anticipation of a disaster?” “Why do you think something bad will happen?” He caught her chin with the edge of his hand and tilted up her face. “Maybe something is happening, but it will be good instead of bad.” “No.” Lisa shook her head and pulled away. “Good things don’t make you scared.” “Sometimes they do,” Daniel said and returned to his desk. “There’s a bookcase in the room behind the kitchen. If you look there, you might find something to read. And you could try finding something to listen to on the radio. You’ll have to fiddle about with the dial to tune into a station.” Biting hard on her lip, Lisa spun away without a reply. The pressure inside her didn’t ease. She walked past the kitchen and pushed open the narrow door that she had paid little attention to before. A startled cry burst from her lips as she entered. Large drawings covered the walls of the otherwise sparsely furnished room. A little girl in pigtails, dressed in a keikogi, the white martial arts suit too large on her frail frame, just like hers had been. In one Aikido move after another, the girl in the pictures defeated her much larger opponent. “Those are the originals from a book on Aikido for girls. That was your father’s specialty.” Daniel walked over and settled to stand in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. “Rather than use photographs to demonstrate the moves, he drew pictures.” Lisa could barely see him through the tears that blurred her eyes. “Jodori—defense against the staff.” She ran her fingertips along the outline of the little girl in the drawing. “He taught me that first. Safer for a beginner than Tantodori—defense against the knife.”

“Your father said Aikido was ideal for young girls because it doesn’t need strength, but turns the opponent’s strength against him.” “I remember when I first managed to throw him over. I didn’t stop gloating for days.” “You’ll find some of his books in the bookcase, in case you’re interested.” Daniel pulled back from the doorway and left her alone with her thoughts. Memories stormed through her mind, and Lisa could no longer find the strength to restrain them. Wanting to stem the flood of recollections, she surveyed the bookcase on the left, beside the small desk free of clutter, and pulled out a paperback at random. Crime thriller. She turned a page, started to read, anything to rein in the scary emotions that threatened to break free and overwhelm her. The words made no sense as her brain refused to capture their meanings. She flicked the pages, found the opening passage, tried to read, but the dedication on the flyleaf caught her attention. Tossing the book down on the narrow bed, she pulled out another, then another, until she had emptied half a shelf. She rushed back to the living room. “Daniel? This time, he remained seated and merely turned around. “What is it?” “These books. Some of them have a dedication from the author to my father. What did he do? Did he become some kind of a freak celebrity for murdering his wife?” A shadow passed over Daniel’s face, and Lisa brushed aside the need to make apologies for her callous words. Over the years, bluntness had become her way of coping with the topic of her parents. “No.” Daniel took The Bloody Trail, leafed through the pages, and handed the book back to her. “Your father read a lot in prison. One day he came across a crime novel with such terrible inaccuracies on police practice that he wrote to the author. The author wrote back and asked him to review the next book for errors before it came out. A few other authors learned about his willingness to offer his expertise, and he became kind of an unpaid editorial consultant.” “I thought prisoners weren’t allowed to receive books from friends and family.” Daniel gave her a look that said so you did think about what life was like in prison for your father, but he didn’t comment. Instead he said, “The prison librarian helped. He received the printed manuscripts and let your father read them.”

Lisa nodded. She chose not to tell Daniel that she’d worked for a church charity during high school, collecting used books for prisons. She had tried to make sure that anything interesting on art or geography or history was sent to Rockhill. “Is that how you met him?” she asked. “Did my dad help you with your writing?” “No.” Daniel adjusted the chair, so he didn’t need to twist his neck in order to look at her. “When he was released, one of his authors introduced him to a magazine publisher. They asked him to write something on martial arts for one of those serial magazines people collect in binders. The issue with his article in it sold out. They asked if he could do the same for wilderness craft. He didn’t know much about the topic, but he knew me, and suggested that we collaborate. I wrote the articles. He drew the pictures and diagrams and dealt with the publishers.” Unease stirred inside Lisa. Something didn’t quite make sense. She assumed it was the contradiction. Her father had always been a perplexing mixture of brute masculinity and artistic creativity. “How long did you two work together?” she asked. “Three years.” Daniel pursed his mouth in reflection and met her questioning eyes without a flinch. “The magazine articles took off soon after your father came out of prison.” “Did you move out here with him when he bought this place?” “No. I was living in the States at the time. My mother is Canadian, my father Native American. Lakota Sioux. Like your father, I have dual citizenship. He moved out here first, and I joined him about a year ago.” “I see.” Lisa clutched the book in her hands, trying to control the unease the conversation had triggered inside her. She’d known it. Inch by inch, Daniel would chip at her defenses, until there was nothing left, and she would have to accept her feelings and cope with the pain of loving a man she was supposed to hate. As if he understood how raw her nerves were, Daniel turned the chair back to face the desk and pressed a key to bring his laptop out of hibernation. “Now, if the interrogation is over, I’d like to get back to work.” “Of course.” Lisa took a step of retreat, staring at the dark head bent over the keyboard and the broad shoulders set in a rigid line beneath the thick sweater. Her mind jumped about in a desperate search for something other than her father to focus on, and she homed in on Daniel’s demeanor. Why was he so tense? And why had he called it an interrogation, like a criminal would? All she had done was ask a few idle questions. Then the

sight of his terrible haircut sent her into a professional shudder, and Lisa forgot all about his odd choice of words. “I’ve got to cut your hair,” she blurted out without thinking. “Huh?” He glanced back over his shoulder. “I’m a trained hairdresser and beautician. I did a course after I accepted that I’d never make it on Broadway. Your haircut gives me nightmares.” Relieved at having found something practical to focus on, she stepped up to him, lifted a hand to his hair and rubbed the thick strands between her fingers. “Let me know when you’re planning to wash your hair. I’ll cut it afterward. It will look great. I promise.” The opaque eyes beneath the dark brows lingered on her. “There’s no need.” A breathless fluttering filled her stomach, and Lisa realized how close to him she had moved. “I’d like to,” she muttered, snatching back her hand. “It’s something to do. And you told me I need to make myself useful.” Daniel’s mouth tugged into a smile, and he turned away. “All right. If my hair gives you nightmares.” He voice rumbled low, and Lisa knew he was trying not to laugh. “Yes,” she told him, encouraged by how their casual banter had eased her edgy mood. “It does.” Her steps were light as she returned to the small room to study the books. A week stranded in the cabin with Daniel Bergeron might not be so bad after all.

Chapter Six

Daniel picked up a letter from the printer. Once again, he considered the expense of a satellite phone, so he could email his articles to the editor, and wouldn’t need to drive to Three Peaks when he wanted to use the Internet. If he had a satellite phone, Lisa could have ordered an extra run of the snow plow and called a tow truck for her car. As the thought rattled around his head, Daniel nearly tore the page in two. Annoyed, he folded up the sheet and rammed it into the sturdy brown envelope, together with the finished article on tomahawks. What tricks was his mind playing now? Did he actually want Lisa to stay? Of course you do, said the stirring in his pants. “No I don’t,” he blurted out loud. “What did you say?” Lisa piped up from the distance. He jerked his gaze up from the papers and saw her halfway across the floor on her way back from the bathroom. Her lips glowed red and her hair fell in a sleek curtain, making her look like a picture from a glossy magazine. Daniel wondered if she’d applied lipstick and combed her hair for his benefit, or out of habit. “Nothing,” he muttered, barely able to speak as utter confusion muddled his brain. Something was happening to him, something that tied together the past and the present, and was beyond his control. He couldn’t piece together what it was, but a premonition wrapped around his heart that life would never be the same again after Lisa Merrick had breezed her way in and out of Beavercreek Lake Drive. Not knowing what else to do, Daniel decided to seek solace in the steady thump of the axe against the logs at the woodpile. He yanked on his boots, gloves and hat, not bothering with the coat. As he fled into the twilight, the words of Lawrence Merrick rang through his mind.

She’s incredible, my Lisa. She has this knack of throwing herself into things, never hesitating. Fearless. That’s what she is. And you know what? If she fails, she won’t fall apart. She just picks herself up and dusts herself off and moves on to the next challenge. That’s why I’m not worried about this acting lark. It won’t crush her if she doesn’t make it. As Daniel picked up the axe, the words bounced around his head to the tune of the blows, not leaving him alone, but sinking deeper, setting his nerves on edge. She’s incredible. My Lisa. My Lisa. **** Lisa watched Daniel eat with a hearty appetite and exhaled a sigh. “You know, it took my father ten years to learn that he must praise my mom’s cooking.” A pair of dark eyes flickered up to her and instantly reverted to the plate. A blush of embarrassment tinged the lean cheeks, already shadowed by a coat of afternoon stubble. She grinned at Daniel’s discomfort. “I’ll let you off with a simple thank you.” He dispatched the last mouthful of steak. “That was excellent. Thank you. How did you manage to make the meat so tender?” “I defrosted the side, cut it into thin strips, and marinated them. I couldn’t find a mallet, so I used a piece of firewood to beat them.” She smiled at him. “It’s great, the way you make use of nature. The freezer is a wooden chest out on the porch, and the water comes from a drift of snow.” Daniel grimaced. “When it thaws, I panic about eating everything frozen before it spoils. He glanced down at the plate. “How long did it take you to separate the carrots and peas into an orange and green stripe around the meat?” “Only a couple of minutes.” “It looked too pretty to eat.” “I think the usual expression is pretty enough to eat.” “Yeah. Pretty enough to eat.” His eyes found hers. Her stomach dipped at the hungry look that lurked behind the cool indifference. “Thank you,” she said in a whisper, suddenly as shy as a teenager on a first date. Daniel’s brow furrowed. “I’ve been puzzled about something.” “Yes?” Lisa stood and collected the empty plates, preferring to put some distance between them, in case the direction of his questioning unsettled her.

“Why did you come here? What did you expect to find? Did you plan to break into the cabin through a window?” “No.” She spoke with her back to him. “I have a key. When my father bought this place, he sent a key to his sister. The one who brought me up after my mother died and my father went to prison. He wrote to her with instructions how to get here, and some pictures. When you wrote to me and told me he’d died, I didn’t know that you lived here. I expected to find the place empty. I thought I’d have to shift through his belongings and find a lawyer to make my claim as his next of kin.” “I’m sorry,” Daniel said, his voice low. “No.” Lisa bit her lip to hold back the tears, then changed her mind about hiding her feelings and turned around. She tucked her hands behind her back and curled the fingers over the edge of the slate counter in an effort to stop any inclination to cover her face. “I’m glad you were here, and he didn’t have to die alone.” “I thought you might try to contest the will.” “No.” Her chin jutted up. “Never. Not respecting the last wishes of a dying man would be dishonorable. He left the house to you and I’ll accept his decision.” “But you do mind? You seemed upset when I told you.” “Yes.” Lisa gave a curt nod as the hollow ache of abandonment returned to press inside her. “Although I rejected my father, I guess in some strange way I relied on his love. Every week, I sent his letter back, but at the same time I didn’t want them to stop. I felt secure in the knowledge that if I needed him, he would do his best to help me. But he left the house to you, which means that in the end he stopped loving me.” She shrugged her shoulders and released her grip on the counter to dab a tear from the corner of her eye. “It’s not the money. It’s because it means that he no longer loved me when he died.” “He loved you.” Daniel leapt to his feet. Strong and warm, as inevitable as a tide, he crossed the floor, until he stood before her. He held a paper napkin out to her. “Wipe away your tears.” “No.” Lisa shook her head, yearning for the solace he could offer, but knowing that she had to find her way through her grief alone. “Tonight, I’ll cry for him. Someone needs to cry for the dead.” “I’d like to take you into my arms. Hold you and comfort you.”

“No. Please. Just stand there.” Tears streamed down her face and she could taste the saltiness on her lips. “Crazy, really. I did nothing to get in touch with him while he lived, but I fall apart when he dies.” “We all fall apart when someone we love dies.” “I. Don’t. Love. Him.” The words tore from her throat one by one, harsh and low. “It’s all right to love him. He was a good man.” She tried to argue back, tell Daniel that he was wrong, that hate must take the place of love when someone betrays their family with such horrible deeds, but the hard sobs locked the words inside her. Her shoulders shook with the force of her tears. “Hush,” Daniel said. “It’s all right.” And despite her telling him not to, he draped his arms around her and pulled her into the shelter of his body. “It’s okay to cry.” And she did, leaning into him, burrowing into his warmth, her hands clutching his sweater. She cried away the guilt and loneliness, and the confusion of her growing-up years when she had battled with her conscience to remain loyal to the dead parent, instead of the one who remained alive. **** Lisa shivered on the couch where Daniel had bundled her beneath a blanket after she had stopped crying. She watched as he lowered a futon to the floor from the sleeping loft, the muscles on his arms and shoulders bunching as he reached over the balustrade. True to his neat habits, he had stored the bedding out of sight for the day. “You could sleep in your father’s room, but it will be cold,” he told her. “You’ll be more comfortable up here. I’ll sleep in front of the fire and keep the flames going. Heat rises, so you’ll be warm, although it’s not as private as in a separate room.” “I’ll be fine,” she replied in a listless tone. “I’ll just have a wash first.” Exhausted from her teary outburst, Lisa could barely summon up the strength to make her way into the bathroom. The white tub and basin added a clean look to the mottled grandeur of the oval mirror in a heavy gilt frame. Unlike the rest of the cabin with exposed timbers, the walls had been lined with plasterboard and painted a pale sage green. She ran hot water from the tap. A splash scalded her skin as she poured in cold from the bucket of melted snow on the floor, but she didn’t even have the energy to flinch. Wearily, she lowered the container down again, then rinsed and dried her face and brushed her teeth. All the while, the emotions Daniel had ignited inside her bombarded her senses.

She could still feel the warm shield of his arms around her, like a protective aura. His nearness had caused a rushing tide of longing, but he had held her in an embrace of friendship, not like a man holds a woman he desires. After her tears stopped flowing, she had tipped her head back and looked at him, expecting his arms to tighten around her, his head to bend lower, his lips to close over hers. Nothing. Without a word he had released her, lifting one arm to offer her a crumpled tissue, so she could mop up her tears. Her own words rang in her mind. Did you…rape me? With a burning certainty, she knew that there would be no further intimacy between them unless she took the first step and made her invitation so bold it left no room for doubt. **** The orange glow from the fireplace sent shadows flickering around the room. Lisa tugged the blankets more securely around her. She had found three of them spread over the thin foam mattress when she climbed up the steep staircase to the loft. Aware that Daniel had only kept one for himself, she had thrown another blanket down to him, not offering any explanation. From his lack of protest, she assumed that he’d gotten her point about being treated as an equal. Sleep wouldn’t come. Her ears attuned to the smallest of sounds. Outside, the wind had stilled, and only the occasional lonely cry of an animal—fox, wolf, she had no idea—punctuated the silence. The floorboards creaked in the room below. She rolled over to her side and craned to look down between the spindles that bordered the loft. Daniel had gotten up and stood by the fire. As she watched, he dropped to his haunches and used an iron poker to rearrange the smoldering logs in the crate before adding another. The flames licked at the wood and then flared, throwing his body into a stark silhouette against the bright light. He wore a closefitting suit of thermal underwear and nothing else. Her gaze roamed over the lean contours of his body. In repose, Daniel had a quality of stillness that hinted at strictly controlled passions and deeply guarded secrets. Allowing her eyes to drift out of focus, Lisa imagined him naked, the way she had seen him last night when he made love to her. She inhaled a sharp breath, the tiny sound breaking the silence. Daniel looked up over his shoulder. Their gazes met and held. Slowly, he stood up straight, the iron poker like an extension of his arm. For what felt like an eternity, they stared at each other. Then he turned away and replaced the poker in the stand. With no further acknowledgement of her presence, he

stretched out on the futon. Reaching for the pair of blankets, he arranged them over his body and settled down to sleep. Lisa rolled over to her back and pressed her head to the pillow. It amazed her how alone she could feel, even with Daniel sharing the room with her. A sense of inner emptiness crept over her and expanded, until her eyes misted with tears. In addition to her sense of being set apart, denied the warmth and comfort he could offer her, she ached with the bittersweet knowledge that all it would take was an invitation, and Daniel would be beside her. Holding her. Teaching her to love again. With a sigh, Lisa closed her mind to the temptation. Love makes one vulnerable, and another betrayal would be more than she could bear. **** “Did you sleep well?” Daniel asked. He left his desk to meet Lisa in the center of the living room as she finally descended from the loft at around ten in the morning. She trailed her jeans in her hand. The thick woolen pantyhose revealed the shapely contours of her legs, and the hem of the big red sweatshirt came to a tantalizing stop around her hips, drawing his attention to all the wrong places. Annoyed by his lack of self-control, Daniel turned away to hide the swelling in his groin. Damn it. Wasn’t it enough to lie awake at night, tortured with memories of what had happened between them? How much punishment was a man supposed to take for one reckless act of passion? “I hardly slept at all,” Lisa muttered. “I need a bath. My skin is starting to itch. And I’ve run out of clean underwear. I need to wash my…smalls.” Daniel tried to find amusement in her hesitation over naming her intimate garments, but all the comment served to do was to harden his budding erection into a rod of steel. “Tomorrow,” he said after clearing his throat. “We can both have a bath tomorrow. It takes a long time to melt enough snow to fill the tub, so I’ll use the water after you’re done.” “Why not today?” Lisa made a sweeping gesture that took in the cabin and the snowy landscape outside. “It’s not as if there’s anything else to do, or we can go anywhere.” “Actually, there is something to do.” Daniel exhaled the air trapped in his lungs and sought to ease his physical discomfort by focusing on the cold outside. To his relief, his unruly member eased its hungry straining against the fabric of his pants and began to settle down.

“I need to build a snow shelter and take some photographs. It’s for another magazine article on wilderness craft. After your father died, the publisher continued to work with me, but now I use photographs instead of drawings.” “Can I help?” Lisa looked up at him, an eager light in her blue eyes. “Sure.” Daniel shrugged, annoyed and pleased at the same time. What he’d planned as an escape from her nearness was turning into another form of torture. Make the dimensions small, so couples are forced to huddle together. Temptation stirred anew in his groin as he recalled his earlier thoughts. He might get to test the impact of that proximity in person. **** Daniel waded through the drifts of snow until he reached the row of junipers where the wind had gathered the snowfall into a high ridge. The temperature had climbed overnight, and the lack of wind made the day appear mild, but their breath billowed in white clouds that floated on the still air. “To build a snow cave, you need at least five feet of snow. Normally, you’d have to find a flat base and shovel snow into a heap, but we’ll cheat and use what nature has provided.” “We have plenty of time.” Lisa inspected the layout, lifting her hiking boots clear of snow on each step as she plodded along. He’d given her a sweater and an old windbreaker to wear, so she wouldn’t damage her smart down jacket. Nothing of his fitted her bottom half, leaving her with no choice but to wear the jeans she’d arrived in. At least she had something sensible on her feet. “I want to do it properly.” Her face grew solemn beneath the blue-and-yellow striped wool cap. “As if we’re stranded and have to fight to stay alive.” “All right. Pick your spot.” He indicated the field of snow. She stomped to the left. She stomped to the right. She surveyed every direction, and after a full three minutes of hesitation, planted herself on a little rise further away from the cabin and extended her arms. “If we put it this way, we get a view of the forest when we come out.” Daniel tipped his head back and gave a bark of laugher at her display of feminine priorities, hoping that the burst of mirth would ease the tension coiling tight inside him. “What?” Lisa frowned at him, but beneath the sour expression, her lips tugged into a smile. “What’s wrong with my choice of home site?”

“If you’re fighting to stay alive, you can’t afford to think about the view. That way, the entrance will be exposed to the northerly winds. You need to face the other way.” She wrinkled her nose, a tiny gesture of displeasure that sent an arrow through his heart. Instead of simply turning about, Lisa resumed her search, and didn’t stop until she found another flat patch of ground that met the criterion of facing south and gave her a view of the forest. “See? It’s all about perseverance. If you keep trying, you can get everything you want.” She smiled up at him, dispatching another dart of innocent appeal, and Daniel accepted that before the day was out his heart would resemble an archery target. “If you say so.” He closed the distance that separated them and couldn’t resist touching her radiant cheek with his gloved hand. Her smile faded, but she didn’t look away. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, she tilted her head, so that her face pressed into his palm. Her lids fluttered down, and her lips parted in a gesture that any sane man would interpret as an invitation to a kiss. Daniel jerked his hand free, almost wishing a return to the simplicity of a situation where she glared at him and issued a warning to keep away from her. “How badly do you want to be stranded?” he asked when he got his breath back. “Do we have any equipment? Shovel?” “We’ll have what hikers would have in their backpacks,” she decided after a moment of consideration. “No shovel.” “There’s a rucksack behind my desk. It has a small gas stove and a torch and matches and a candle and a first aid kit and some basic provisions. You can add your choice of food and cooking utensils from the kitchen.” Her face blossomed into another smile, and then she whipped about and rushed back into the house. “I’ll start heaping up snow,” he shouted after her. “No. Wait for me. This is a joint project.” She clattered up the porch steps and disappeared out of sight. While Daniel waited for her to return, he fetched a shovel from beneath the roof canopy and started to clear a path outside the shed where he kept his truck. On Monday, he’d have to drive Lisa to Three Peaks, unless he could fix her car, which would allow her to make her own exit out of his life.

As he labored, the elusive connection between the past and the present that had shimmered around the edges of his mind became clearer with each rhythmic rise and fall of his arms. He had watched Lisa on the television screen. He had listened to Lawrence praising her courage and spirit and sweetness. And all the while, he had gradually allowed the idea of her to sneak into his heart. For years, he’d been in love with Lisa Merrick—the woman he thought she would be. At the bottom of his dislike of her had been the bitter acceptance that she was as unattainable to him as the stars in the sky. And now she had arrived and was everything her father had promised. My Lisa, she knows the meaning of honor. I tell you, that girl does credit to the memory of her Samurai ancestors. My Lisa, she’s a beauty, but I can guarantee it hasn’t gone to her head. She’ll never preen about and expect to be fawned over. My Lisa, she gets on with things. She might be small, but she’ll pull her weight. And she’ll tackle even mundane tasks and give them her best shot. Lisa Merrick had declared that not respecting the wishes of a dying man would lack honor. She had blushed with pleasure at the few simple compliments he’d given her, and not a single complaint about the primitive facilities of the cabin had crossed her lips. And now, she insisted upon rushing about his front yard, excited over the simple task of building a snow cave. The door flung open, the sound yanking Daniel from his thoughts. He leaned against the handle of the shovel and watched as Lisa appeared on the porch. The big rucksack strapped on her back towered over her head, making her gait unsteady. “You haven’t started without me, have you?” she called out. “And we said no shovel.” “No shovel.” He returned to replace the tool beneath the roof canopy. “And I waited for you.” Have waited for you all my life. His stomach tightened as he followed her to their chosen patch of snow. If the cabin had been lonely before, what would it be like when she was gone?

Chapter Seven

Lisa worked up a sweat as she heaped snow into a mound using an orange plastic bowl. Daniel’s old windbreaker flapped loose around her, but it kept her warm, unlike the jeans that proved an impractical garment in the northern winter. Once they had built a big enough pile of snow, they stopped for lunch while the crystals bound together to form a solid structure. After they had eaten, Daniel tested the site. He declared that the powdery snow would take at least another hour to become firm enough to allow for digging a cave. “I’ll continue clearing a path for the truck, so I can drive you out on Monday.” Panic surged inside her at the thought of leaving, with so much unsaid between them, so many feelings unexplored. “It’s only Wednesday.” She glanced up into the sky covered with gray clouds. “It could snow again.” “Then I’ll have to shovel the path clear again.” “I’ll go and chop firewood.” Her feet sank in the snow as she hurried across the yard. She wondered if Daniel understood her need to escape for a moment. His nearness took her breath. When he looked at her, her heart gave a painful little lurch, as if the process of emotions inside her coming back to life resulted in an actual physical ache. They had worked side by side while building the mound of snow. Every time their elbows grazed, or their hands accidentally met, she had wanted to turn to him. The urge to artlessly drop her arms by her sides and stand before him, humbled and needy, had built up like a hurricane inside her, until she could barely tolerate the pressure. At the woodpile, Lisa yanked a length of silver birch from the stack. She slung the wood on the stand and detached the worn saw from the hook on the wall. As if racing against time, she hurled herself into the task of cutting the log into stumps. Her arm shot forward and yanked

back, time and again in an urgent rhythm that suddenly drenched her with heat as she recalled how Daniel had surged in and out of her. Stop it. She gritted her teeth and came to a halt. Her breath rushed so hard it almost tore sobbing sounds out of her heaving chest. She wanted to retreat into the safe isolation of denied feelings. She didn’t want this feverish longing, this aching need for another person, or the foreboding sense that someone else held the keys to her happiness and could crush her with a cruel act of betrayal. And yet, she knew that she couldn’t leave without letting Daniel see how she felt. She would have to offer herself to him again and find out if the magic that radiated between them was real, or merely a quirk of nature, stemming from their isolation and mutual loneliness. The end of the birch log fell on the snowy ground, and the dull thud sealed the decision in her mind. They were building a shelter for the lost and stranded. Once the cave had been dug, it would have to be tested, and not much distance could separate two people in the cramped conditions. She would have to find the courage to take the first step. **** Daniel pressed the button to take another photo of Lisa against the backdrop of snow. At least he would have memories. With a wry twist of his mouth he considered moving closer to civilization, so he could get cable and watch her on the television screen. “Can I go in?” Lisa crouched in front of the cave, ready to crawl back inside. They had taken turns to dig a narrow tunnel, sloping upward in order to trap warm air inside. He had done most of the work of hollowing out a chamber wide enough for the pair of them at the end of the tunnel. “Do you know what to do?” he asked. “Yes.” Lisa snapped on the headlamp. “I need to smooth the inside walls to get rid of any ridges that could make dripping icicles.” “Good.” Daniel passed her a candle and a box of matches. “Take these. While you’re inside, I’ll cut a stick we can use to punch a ventilation hole. A candle will release carbon monoxide, and breathing will build up carbon dioxide. With a hole for fresh air, we can light a candle and switch off the headlamp to save the batteries.” Lisa nodded and slipped the candle and matches in her pocket. “What time is it?” He glanced at his watch.” Almost eight.”

“Almost bedtime,” she said, and crawled into the tunnel. Almost bedtime. Daniel refused to contemplate the prospect that she wanted to sleep in the cave with him, and yet, when Lisa emerged from the snow tunnel and he went back inside the cave to add the final feature, a sleeping platform in the center, he made it even narrower than he planned to suggest in the magazine article. “Right. We’re done.” He poked his head out of the entrance. “Can you give me the camera, and I’ll see if I can take a couple of pictures inside.” Without a word, she passed the digital camera to him. In the cave, Daniel squatted on his knees, trying to get a shot that would give an idea of the dimensions. He nearly toppled over when something heavy slammed into his side. The rucksack. Followed by a muttered curse. “I almost got stuck behind that thing,” Lisa explained as she crawled into the cave. She crouched beside him. “Let’s get ready for bed.” “You want to sleep in the cave?” Daniel asked when he found his voice. “Of course.” Her chin went up, and she gave him a haughty look, but he saw the mischief that sparkled in her eyes. “You didn’t think I’d build a house and not live in it?” “Right.” His heartbeat kicked up a notch. “Shoo.” She ushered him out with a flap of her hand. “Go and do whatever you need to do before bedtime.” As Daniel crawled out, the tension that had gathered inside him all day ripped through him, shocking him with its force. Don’t be a fool, his mind warned, but a crazy hope made his entire body shake. **** A single candle flickered on a ledge carved into the wall of snow, casting a pale light at one end of the cave. Lisa shifted on the raised platform that allowed them to sleep in the warmer air that rose toward the ceiling of the cave. “I’m falling off,” she said, and right on cue, Daniel’s arm tightened around her waist. “Is this better?” he asked. “Yes.” She pressed her back against his broad chest, trying to feel him through the layers of wool and the waterproof fabric of his parka. Solid. Safe. She closed her eyes and inhaled even breaths. The lure of rest after a sleepless night, mixed with the tension of not knowing how to reach out for him, gave her an odd feeling of disorientation.

“Are you warm enough?” Daniel asked. “My nose is cold.” “If you turn around, you can tuck your face in the crook of my neck.” A jolt ran across her nerves. Propping one foot on the floor of the cave, Lisa wriggled around, until she lay facing Daniel. In the flickering candlelight, she stared up at his stern features. His arms closed around her, anchoring her in place. She could feel the rigid tension in his muscles. Then a shudder raced over him, starting from the heavy shoulders that shielded her, rippling all the way down along his long legs that tangled with hers. A groan, a harsh sound of despair, broke from his lips, fading to a resigned sigh that made her think of a white flag of surrender. The unfamiliar ache that had settled in her chest while she worked on the birch logs intensified as he slowly inclined his head. Finally his lips brushed hers, barely touching, only a whisper of warmth from his breath over her skin. With a whimper of longing, Lisa inched higher and captured his mouth in a slow, searching kiss. Relief filled her as Daniel deepened the contact. He crushed her close. She could feel the thundering beat of his heart in the pulse that throbbed at his throat. Pleasure coiled inside her as he slid his tongue across her teeth, delivering a taste of peppermint. “You’ve been to brush your teeth,” she said and leaned back, trying to frown at him, but the rush of joy brought a smile to her lips. “You planned to kiss me.” “I was hoping to get the opportunity.” The words came out muffled as he brought his mouth down to hers in another hungry kiss. His lips roamed hers, slanting past the corners of her mouth, then returning to the plump curve of her bottom lip to allow his tongue a bold foray inside. Lisa strained against him. Her entire body thundered with the fevered pulse that rushed though her veins. Her hands clung to his shoulders, and she cursed the cold that required the barrier of cotton and wool and waterproof that prevented her from feeling his naked skin against hers. “Damn it,” Daniel said much later, when his fiery embraces had turned her into a wanton creature of molten desire on the hard platform of snow. “If we were anywhere but buried in a cave, I’d try to get your clothes off.” “Don’t complain.” Lisa reached up to press her gloved hand across his mouth in a forbidding gesture. “This is the best part. At least I think so. I completely missed out on teenage necking. Grown men don’t expect to spend all night kissing.”

“I’m glad.” “Why?” She searched his face. Passion had hardened the angular features, and just for a fraction of a second, a fleeting shadow of desperation passed across the dark eyes. A frisson of alarm pierced her arousal, but then his deep voice resonated around her, making her forget the sudden sense of danger she had felt about him. “I'm glad because I can do something for you that no other man has done.” She let the silence fall. The loneliness of her teenage years pressed against her ribcage, like an angry ghost that would continue to hurt her, unless she found a way of facing the past, getting beyond the grief she had carried in her heart for so long. “You’ve done something else no other man has ever done.” She bowed her head to prevent the distraction of another kiss, instead wanting to focus on the thoughts sealed in the dark recesses of her mind. All day, they had sought release. “What?” His chin came down on top of her head in a protective gesture that bolstered her courage, made it easier for her to get out the words. “You’re the only person I’ve talked to about my father.” She paused, swallowed hard, then continued. “When I was in high school, I refused to talk about it. I didn’t date or have any close friends because I was afraid people would seek my company out of curiosity. And later, after I left Minnesota and moved to New York, I didn’t tell anyone. No one knew about my family.” “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you with my questions,” Daniel murmured, his lips grazing her temple. “No.” Tears welled in her eyes. She did want to talk about her father. The need to share the memories had grown since she had learned how close Daniel had been to Lawrence Merrick in his final years. “I want to talk, but I don’t know how. It’s been locked inside me for so long.” “Did you ever try to forgive him? Consider getting in touch?” “No.” Lisa glanced up in horror. “He shot my mother. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, he dishonored her memory by lying. And, although he didn’t say anything, I think he wanted me to lie for him.” “How did it happen?” The arms around her pulled her closer. Lisa kept her eyes open to block the images that hovered on the edge of her mind as she relayed the facts in a low voice. “I was out in the yard, feeding the koi in the pond. I heard a gunshot from the house and rushed inside. I found them in the bedroom. My mother was lying on the floor, and my father was kneeling beside her. He had his service weapon in his hand. He

looked up at me. His face was totally blank. He stared at me, as if he didn’t even know who I was. Then he yelled at me to get out. I backed to the door, but I didn’t leave the room. I watched as he scrambled to his feet and picked up the telephone on the nightstand. He called 9-1-1 and said there had been a shooting accident.” “What happened then?” Daniel asked softly. “He walked over to me, crouched down in front of me, and curled his hands around my arms. He said it was an accident. He was cleaning his gun, and it went off. I knew he was lying. You never, ever, clean a gun while it’s loaded. Later, he changed his story and said he had taken the gun out to clean it, but my mom had attacked him, trying to wrench the gun from his hands, and it went off while they struggled. They’d been having an argument about his affair.” “What makes you think he was lying?” “My father was not careless with weapons, least of all firearms. It simply couldn’t have happened the way he described. He cleaned his gun in the den, not in the bedroom. He was lying. I could tell by the way he said it, the look in his eyes. And later, he refused to take a lie detector test.” “Have you ever wondered why he didn’t tell the truth?” Daniel asked, the words slow and hesitant, full of tension. His arms eased around her, allowing her to look into his face. An odd speculative expression knotted his dark brows. “No,” Lisa said, and retreated into silence. Her body shivered with suppressed anxiety, and although she snuggled up against Daniel again, the cold had seeped into her. Forbidden images flooded her senses, sucking her back into the past. The acrid smell of gunpowder scorched her nostrils, mixing with the tang of fish pellets on her hands and the nausea from the odor of blood. She pushed the horror back into the past, and locked the memories away in the dark corner of her mind where they belonged. Although a small part of her wanted to store away the conversation and build on it later, the rest of her resented how it had interrupted the romantic mood. “Please,” she said, tilting her face up to Daniel. “I don’t want to talk about it. Help me forget.” With a small comforting sound, he brought his head down and resumed the long drugging kisses that sent pleasure tingling on her skin. She felt his arms tense around her as he shifted, struggling for balance. Then he swept one hand along her back and slipped his fingers beneath her

hair, finding a bare sliver skin at her neck beneath her collar, and she realized that he had removed one glove. For what seemed like hours he caressed that single spot, the rough texture of his calloused fingers unbearably erotic on the sensitive skin at the join of her neck and shoulder. A throbbing settled between her legs and didn’t cease all night. Before Lisa finally fell under the spell of sleep, a thought crossed her mind that they might melt the snow with all the heat they generated between them. **** The inevitability of it all tore at his guts. Ignoring the cold, the sleeves of his sweater pushed up to the elbows, Daniel scooped up another bucketful of snow and carried it into the kitchen where Lisa kept an eye on the saucepans that simmered on the stove. “Only a couple of more,” she told him brightly. “I can barely wait. I’m all cramped up from sleeping in that cave.” “It was your idea.” Daniel flinched at the morose tone in his voice. He’d lain awake all night, cold and uncomfortable, holding Lisa in his arms, watching her in the faint glow of the candle, trying to memorize her features. From the instant she had tipped her head back, offering her lips to him, his body had throbbed with the anticipation of what would happen when they left the snow cave and returned into the house, where a hot bath and a soft bed beckoned. It made his heart swell with pride that Lisa had opened up to him, had trusted him with her memories. He suspected that given enough time, the attraction she felt for him might grow to love. From his own experience, he knew that a solitary person would crash headlong into passion when they met their match. He ought to know. It had taken him all of thirty seconds. Daniel ruefully admitted that his love for Lisa had burst to full bloom the moment he had pulled off her wool cap in the car and caught his first glimpse of her unconscious face. He accepted that if he truly loved her, he would find the strength to push her away now, rather than risk causing her pain when she learned the truth about him. But he couldn’t. He had to make love to her one more time. Fill his heart and mind with memories of her that would sustain him through the lonely years after she left him—as he knew that she would. “Hey, don’t be grumpy.” Lisa gave him a playful shove in the ribs.

Daniel forced a smile. “I’m not grumpy.” “You could have fooled me.” “Just preoccupied.” He hesitated before he plunged on. “I can’t help thinking about the future. When you’ll be gone.” “Don’t.” She regarded him with a tender look in her eyes. “We’ll work something out. We can talk tomorrow. Now I just want to relax and enjoy my bath.” Daniel nodded. Heat radiated from the stove as he stepped closer and scooped more snow into the pot. He didn’t reply, didn’t want to be drawn into the conversation that would wreck his dreams. Fleetingly, he wondered how Romeo would have felt if he’d known what direction his relationship with Juliet would soon take. **** Bliss. Lisa reclined in the big tub, sloshing the hot water around with her toes. She wanted to shave under her arms and use apricot kernel scrub on her skin, but Daniel would use the bathwater after her, which put limits on her beauty regime. At least her legs remained smooth. All night, he had kissed her and held her, delivering whispered promises of what would follow when they returned into the warmth and comfort of the house. During those hours of darkness in the snow cave, the tug of confusion inside her had eased and Lisa saw clearly, perhaps for the first time in eighteen years. She understood that getting drunk didn’t make you do things you didn’t want to do. It simply lowered the threshold of internal censorship, so that you did what you wanted to do, instead of holding back in order to confirm to society’s rules. She had come to accept her desire for Daniel, and the baffling sense of belonging with him that had seized her while she made drunken love to him. Daniel Bergeron had released the feelings of love locked inside her. The taciturn dark stranger, so full of tension, and yet so serene in his silent ways, had reached out to her. Her body had recognized him, and now his scent had imprinted its pattern on her brain, like the bond between a pair of wild animals that from the first moment of physical union would forever recognize their chosen mate. As crazy as it sounded, she knew with the certainty borne from years of solitude that he was her destiny. The one man in the world who could make her complete. Lisa smiled and closed her eyes to sink deeper into the water.

Daniel could feel it too. She was sure of it. After they left the snow cave, he’d withdrawn into himself, but his reticence didn’t worry her. She understood that he worried about Monday, when the snowplow would come. She imagined the joy that would brighten his dark features when she explained that she could stay. Stay as long as he wanted her to. Which would be forever. She’d never been more certain of anything than she was of the fact that Daniel loved her—loved her even more than he loved his wilderness world. He would follow her into New York if she asked him, but she could tell him that no such sacrifice was needed. Her modeling career had begun to wane as years ticked by. Outdoor life would suit her fine. Perhaps she could even learn to draw, like her father had done. And one day—perhaps—what a perfect place this would be to bring up children. A soft laugh of pleasure erupted in her throat at the prospect of a horde of tiny Daniels running riot in the forest. Discovering all about love would be the ultimate adventure, and she could hardly wait for it to begin.

Chapter Eight

“Did my father ever tell you how he met my mother?” Daniel stared at his reflection. Lisa had insisted upon taking the tarnished mirror down from the bathroom wall and propping it up on an armchair, so he could keep an eye on the proceedings while she cut his hair. The fire roared. His naked torso sweltered beneath the rustling sheet of oilcloth draped over his shoulders. When he went in for his bath, he found a tiny set of lacey undergarments hung up to dry on a towel rail. Like a walking cliché, he had touched the panties with his fingertips, imagining Lisa wearing them. Because she had undressed in the warmth beneath the blankets when they made love, he hadn’t truly seen her naked. He cursed the freezing weather that had deprived him of the sight. Just as he cursed the clocks ticking toward Monday, and the man with the snow plow, who had always been as reliable as the rising sun. “How did your father meet your mother?” Daniel asked. He had only heard the story about a hundred times. Lisa ran the comb through his hair and paused to untangle a knot at the crown, tugging so hard that a protest slipped past his lips. She shushed him to be quiet and carried on. “He won a competition. A week at a martial arts center in Japan with a Grandmaster. Only they screwed up, and instead of a karate dojo, they sent him to a judo one.” With an air of concentration, Lisa parted his hair and started to pull up sections and clip away with the kitchen scissors. “He was a cocky devil, my father, and he said to my grandfather, fine, no problem, you can teach me judo instead. But I’m a black belt, second dan, and I’ll pick it up in no time, so don’t

you try to stick me with a bunch of beginners. My grandfather thought he was an arrogant foreign devil who needed taking down a peg or two. My mother came through the door at that precise moment. She was a model and had been to a photo shoot. My grandfather said, all right, you think you’re such a hotshot, but I bet anyone can beat you. He turned to my mother, as if he’d never seen her before, and said, even this little lady. “My mother smiled and said, of course, happy to be of service. She walked over in her high heels and flipped my father on his back. Startled, he jumped up from the floor, ready to take her on as a serious opponent, but he didn’t realize how dainty her bones where. He gripped her too hard, and accidentally fractured her arm. “My mother didn’t show with a flicker of expression how much pain she was in. She just stared at him and said you’d better learn to control your strength before you make love to me. Then she turned around and walked off, speaking to one of the instructors in Japanese. “Stunned, unable to believe his ears, my father asked, what did she say, what did she say? My grandfather, who was equally stunned, misunderstood his question and said, she asked someone to drive her to the hospital because she thinks you might have broken her arm.” Daniel smiled at Lisa in the mirror. “And a week later she came home to America with him.” Lisa ceased her clipping and waved the scissors in the air. “You knew the story.” “Yeah. But I wanted to hear you tell it.” “Did…my father tell it the same way?” Daniel grinned. “He rolled his eyes in horror at the bit about her broken arm.” Lisa lifted the scissors and continued in silence. Her fingers brushed his neck, and after the first tingle that ran down his spine, Daniel realized the subtle but deliberate caress had nothing to do with haircuts. The muscles in his abdomen contracted into a painful cramp as Lisa continued to stroke his skin. She raked her hands through his hair, then dragged the tip of her index finger along his collarbone. “What are you doing?” he murmured. “I’m getting you in the mood.” She reached into the pocket of the short red corduroy skirt she wore and gently laid something in his lap. “I think these have a use-by date. It would be a shame to let them go to waste.”

Daniel looked down and saw the box of condoms jostling with the erection that rose inside his gray sweatpants. Grabbing the box, he jumped up. “Hey! I haven’t finished,” Lisa cried. “You can finish later.” Images of her bent against the wall before him jostled through his mind—the red skirt bunched around her hips, legs parted, back arched as she rose on tiptoes to accept him from behind. “Wait.” She lowered the scissors to the coffee table next to the kitchen chair that he had sat on and moved to stand in front on him. “Do you know why I told you that story?” Daniel shook his head, fighting to remain calm. Each second that ticked by, it felt as if a bomb prepared to detonate inside him, as the tension of the night he’d spent kissing her in the snow cave drew toward an explosive release. “She met my father, and she knew they were meant for each other. Just like I know.” Lisa tipped back her head to examine his features. “I felt your arms around me when you carried me from the car, and I saw your face above mine, and I knew. Do you understand what I mean?” “Yes,” he whispered, and reached out to draw her close. “I knew too.” **** Love. This was how it felt to give yourself to a man, fully belong to him. Lisa watched Daniel toss down the blankets and lower the futon from the loft. She didn’t rush up to help him but stood waiting between the couch and the fireplace, her eyes lingering on the ridged muscles of his bare chest and shoulders. The hungry kiss he’d given her still throbbed on her lips. She had expected him to possess her on the hard floor with a burning urgency. But instead, he had released her with a few murmured words. I want to see you in the firelight. Have room to move, taste you properly. Learn every secret of your body and make them mine. And now, his bare feet thudded over the floorboards as he crossed the room and placed the futon in front of the hearth, a short distance away from the roaring fire. He had insisted on cramming the crate full of logs while she had her bath, to chase away every trace of a chill in the room. Now the air sweltered, and sparks shot up the chimney every time the pile of logs collapsed when the flames consumed the wood. Heat wrapped around her and drifted up her bare legs, beneath the tight red corduroy skirt, where it combined with the heat that pulsed within.

“I took out a pair of sheets, so the blankets won’t scratch you skin.” Daniel crossed the room and carried back the stack of wool and cotton. “It’s too hot for blankets,” she told him, and her voice almost caught in her tightened throat. “I know.” He paused, not looking at her, and bent to drop the bundle of bedding beside the futon. “It’s for later. When we get tired and want to go to sleep.” I’ll never get tired of you. Never. The words resonated in her head. “I’ll put a sheet on the futon, to make it nice and smooth for you,” Daniel said. The muscles on his arms rippled as he billowed out the white cloth, then let it flutter down on the padded base. Crouching down, he carefully arranged the bedding, a small frown of concentration on his face as he saw to her comfort. A pain seared Lisa’s chest as she watched him. In that instant, she accepted Daniel had wrapped himself so tightly around her heart she’d never be whole again without him. In silence, she sank to her knees beside him. A fine sheen of perspiration coated his skin, so much darker than hers in color. She traced her fingertips along the thin white scar that curved around one shoulder blade. “How did you get this?” she asked. Daniel finished preparing the bed and turned to her. Shadows filled his eyes, then grew into a hard shield of privacy, and finally vanished altogether. The tension in his muscles and the grim line of his jaw revealed the effort he exerted to push the topic out of his mind. “Knife wound.” He gave a careless shrug. “Or some other sharp implement. I can’t quite recall.” He wrapped one arm around her, pulling her close, and Lisa got the distinct impression that he wanted to distract her from inspecting his body and asking questions about other marks that bore witness to whatever had taken place in his past. “Wait,” she whispered. “I want to show you something.” His arm fell from around her and his eyes darkened, but this time not with the bitter flicker of unpleasant memories. Lisa rose and hurried to the armchair, where she’d left her shoes, intending to wear them for him, but not wanting the encumbrance while she cut his hair. The spiky heels clipped against the floorboards as she returned. Daniel said nothing, but the sudden harsh movement of his throat told Lisa everything she needed to know. Although she didn’t have much experience in seduction, she understood what men found attractive. She turned

and made a small circle, exaggerating her gait, allowing Daniel to see the red soles that peeked beneath the black leather pumps on each step. With a growl of impatience, he hauled her near him, no longer down on his haunches, but now kneeling before her. He pressed his face against the soft contours of her belly. As Lisa curled her hands over his shoulders, she felt him tremble beneath her touch. “Daniel?” she whispered. “Is everything all right?” He raised his gaze and gave a sharp shake of his head, as though requesting silence. His hands drifted up her legs, past the hollow behind the knees, to curl around her slim thighs. Heat pooled inside her, deep and throbbing, and centered where she expected he would touch her next. A shudder raced through her body, like a tremor of surrender. Her sex life had always been limited by her reticence, her need for control, and the fear of any possibility of betrayal. None of the four lovers in her past had been allowed to explore her body with intimate touches. The acts had been quick and clinical, under the cover of darkness. But now, a frantic beat of anticipation thrummed in her blood as Daniel’s fingers burned a trail along her inner things. Her red skirt bunched over his wrists as his hands drifted higher. A muffled cry broke from her lips when one fingertip trailed across the center of her panties, sending a rush of pleasure to radiate out from that single spot. “Please,” she murmured, unsure of what she was asking for, but trusting Daniel to know. With a probing touch, the gentle fingertip returned. In a smooth circle, he traced her intimate contours through the thin barrier of silk and lace. Then he swept across the tightened bud in the middle. Her hands gripped his shoulders. Abandoning her modesty, Lisa groaned out loud as sensations seized her. “I can’t…” Her words rasped out on a panting breath. “My legs won’t carry me any more…” Daniel leapt to his feet, scooped her in his arms, and laid her down on the crisp white sheet in front of the roaring fire. He stretched out beside her, propping his weight on one elbow. His dark gaze swept over her. The gallant act of rising to his feet to settle her on the bed rather than simply pulling her down to join him wrung a sob from Lisa’s throat. Any defensive walls that might have been left around her heart came crashing down. “I love you,” she said, her voice low and husky.

Daniel froze. His eyes closed tight. Fear fisted inside Lisa. Had she overstepped some invisible mark, rushed some secret boundaries that needed to be breached with more caution? She held her breath as she waited for his reaction, but she knew that she neither regretted the words, nor wished to take them back. If she wanted to forge a future with him, she had no time to waste. A hard sound tore from Daniel’s chest. His body sprung to life. All at once, he was yanking up her skirt, sliding his leg between hers and leaning over her to claim her mouth in a searing kiss that sent another surge of desire down her spine. “Lisa,” he mumbled against her mouth. “My Lisa.” She waited for the words of love, but when they didn’t come, with a little sigh of acceptance, she resigned to waiting for them to grow. And then Daniel had her panties tugged aside, and she felt his probing fingers once more in her tender folds, this time without the protective shield of clothing. Instinctively, her thighs clenched together. His eyes darted up to her face, and the level dark brows lifted in surprise. “I haven’t let anyone touch me there—” A muscle tugged at the side of his jaw. “Will you let me?” With a wordless nod, she gave him permission. Slowly, methodically, he set out to undress her, releasing the buttons on her shirt one by one, turning her over to reach the zipper on her skirt, and finally removing her high-heeled shoes, so he could slide off her underwear. Only when he had her completely naked, did he start kissing her. “Let me know if the fire gets too hot,” he murmured, poised over her, his lips drawing a scorching line across her belly. “How can I tell?” she whispered. “How can I tell when I burn from your touch?” Daniel raised his head to give her a long look before he resumed his slow path downward, where desire twisted sharp and hot at the juncture of her thighs. Gently, he pressed with his palm to nudge her legs apart. Lisa obeyed, almost sobbing as tension coiled unbearably tight inside her. Finally, his mouth found her sensitive core. Her harsh cry rose to fill the room, mingling with the orange light that flickered around her as she bowed on the makeshift bed. Sensations rippled through her. Every nerve quivered. The pleasure pulsed over her in crashing waves. Her hands fisted in the sheet. Wanting Daniel, needing him, she released her hold on the crisp cotton cloth and tangled her fingers in his hair. Still a little damp from the bath, the strands cooled her burning skin, and

she yanked him higher up along her body, mindless to the prospect of hurting him with her violent tugging. “Now,” she rasped. “Please. Get inside me.” Daniel raised his head. His lips glistened from the moisture of kissing her, and a bold smile of male triumph curved his mouth. Vaguely, Lisa recalled how he had accused her of refusing to admit that she wanted him, but she pushed aside the thought. With someone else she might have worried they were seducing her as part of a game for sexual dominance, to prove their point, but she had no such fears with Daniel. She trusted him. As Daniel pulled away and paused to protect them, awareness lit her mind like a promise of a sunny day after a long dark night. Even in the middle of their passion, he thought of her, made sure she was kept safe. When he settled over her and paused to capture her eyes in a searching look, she sent him a smile and raised one hand to touch his cheek. His tanned skin, still smooth from his morning shave, felt warm beneath her fingertips. “I love you,” she said again, this time silently, only her lips moving. And then he surged inside her, strong and male. Braced high on his arms, he forged a heavy rhythm, hammering hard to get deep inside her. The roaring fire scorched one side of her, but not even flames licking her flesh would have caused her to stop. Her hips tilted up to meet his thrusts, then began to rock and twist, seeking more of him. When he advanced, she rose to take him deeper, and when he recoiled, she tensed to hold him inside. Her senses sharpened, until she could smell the faint scent of perspiration on his skin, mixed with the slight fragrance of her bath foam that had gained a different masculine undertone on him. Tension pooled inside her, and an uncontrollable trembling seized her legs. Again and again, Daniel surged in and out of her, driving her into a mindless frenzy of passion, until the world broke to a thousand pieces, and a rainbow of colors filled her mind. “I love you,” she whispered one more time, and steeled herself against the ray of sadness that came from his silence. **** Daniel took deep breaths, as if he had surfaced after nearly drowning. His heart didn’t seem to be able to settle down to an even beat, despite the fact that for the last hour he had lain awake beside Lisa, reliving the hours of making love to her.

They hadn’t got up, not even to have dinner, but he had brought out a tray with a packet of bagels and a lump of cheese he had taken out to defrost in the morning. As darkness fell outside, they ate by the flickering firelight, and afterward he made love to her again, slow and gentle. The knowledge that no other man had touched her so intimately gave him an obsession of exploring her body, of touching and tasting what had been forbidden to others. It seemed even more important than penetration, and for endless hours he lingered over her, postponing his own pleasure, until she shuddered with need in his arms. She loved him. The words, which should have given him a profound sense of happiness, had instead served to deepen his guilt. He knew that she yearned to hear him declare his feelings in return, but the truth remained locked inside him. Love would make the betrayal cut even deeper when he told her. Why had he let it happen? Why hadn’t he turned away, hidden his need, conquered his lust, put a safe distance between them? He glanced at Lisa, sleeping so peacefully next to him. She lay curled up on her side, one arm thrown across his waist, as if in all her fragility she could somehow protect him from the ugly side of life. A heavy sigh rocked his shoulders. He had let it happen, because nothing in the world could have stopped him from reaching out for her, from allowing himself to love her and possess her, just for this one night. The memories would have to last him a lifetime, because in the morning he would have to tell her. She would learn who he was, what he was, and a wall of hatred and anger would rise to separate them. But until she woke, he could dream of a world where they belonged together. Where happiness and love could heal past suffering. Where forgiveness wiped out bitter memories, and the future held the promise of a family. Soon, she would wake up, and his dreams would come to an abrupt end.

Chapter Nine

Daniel untangled from Lisa, rose, and padded across the floor with quiet steps. The camera weighed heavy in his hands as he tiptoed back, taking care not to wake her. He focused on her face as she lay tucked against the pillow, and pressed a button. Once. Twice. “Daniel?” She rolled onto her back and looked up at him. His heart shrank as he saw the tired expression in her eyes. Doubt flooded his mind. Had he read too much into things? Maybe her words of love had been idle talk, the need of a sexually inexperienced female to pretend that a chance encounter meant something more, making it easier to give herself to a stranger without any sense of guilt or shame. “I took a photo of you while you slept. I hope you don’t mind.” “No. Of course not.” A sleepy smile hovered on her lips. She yawned and stretched, reaching her hands high above her head, then brought her arms back down and lifted the blankets to inspect the skin on her hip. “I was a fool to think it would be romantic to make love in front of the fire. One side of you scorches, and the other side of you freezes.” “I tried to tell you.” He returned the camera to the desk and settled on the futon beside her. Not attempting to touch her, he linked his arms around his folded knees. “How come you’re not married or living with someone? You must be turning thirty this year.” “Already did.” She expelled a resigned sigh. “I’m struggling to get enough work these days. Aging skin is a different demographic. Not eastern.” “Thirty isn’t old.” “It is, in the beauty business.” Keeping her attention on some invisible blemish on her thigh, Lisa spoke slowly. “I’m not married because I’ve always had this terrible fear that once I

hook up with a man, he’ll betray my trust. Like my father did. That I’ll find out he really isn’t what I thought he would be, and I’ll end up hurt.” A jolt seared along Daniel’s nerves. He couldn’t have asked for a more fitting introduction to what he had to tell her. He watched her closely. “Did I ever mention how I met your father?” Lisa glanced up. Her brows drew into an uncertain frown. “I don’t think you did.” “We were cellmates at Rockhill Penitentiary.” He spoke the words slowly, letting the knowledge come between them, like a handful of firecrackers that would go off and ruin everything they had shared. The blue eyes snapped wide. “You…were in prison with him?” “Yes.” He could see it. The control that took over. It might be the actress in her, or the mental discipline of martial arts, or even some mystical trait of inscrutability inherited from her Samurai ancestors, but in front of him, Lisa Merrick lost every trace of emotion. “And…what were you in for?” She asked the question stiffly, as if talking to an unfriendly stranger she had been stranded with at a dinner party. “The same as your father. Murder.” “I see.” She gave a slow nod. The only sign of her agitation was the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the wheezing sound as she struggled to keep breathing. Daniel forced himself not make excuses, or couch the truth in platitudes. He never had, and he wouldn’t start now. “I got twenty-seven years, but my conviction was overturned on appeal. I went down for manslaughter in the second degree and got four years, which I served in full.” He gave an awkward shrug. “I told you, I was living in the States when your father bought this place. I was in prison. I wrote to him, helping him with the wilderness craft books and articles. Prisoners can’t run a business. That’s why your father left the house to me. I helped him earn the money that paid for it.” “I see.” The blankets fell into a heap on the futon as Lisa bolted up. Her legs stretched in slim columns beneath the red sweatshirt. He had told her to put the garment on during the night, to make sure she didn’t catch a chill while they slept. “Don’t you want to know what happened?” he asked. “No,” she said. “I have to go.” First he thought she meant the bathroom, but she headed to the bottom of the loft staircase and fetched her suitcase. With jerky motions, she started to pack. The action gave a clear

message that she had shut him out. Instead of listening to the details and confronting him over his silence on the topic until now—something she could only see as a betrayal of her trust—she would simply try to leave the cabin. He cast around for anything to make her stay, even just for another hour. “You didn’t finish cutting my hair.” “You really think I care?” She spoke through clenched teeth, the same as when she had first arrived, numb with cold. Only four days ago, and yet it felt like a lifetime. Inside him, the pressure built to tell her about his past, to explain, force her to listen. Plead his case and have her agree that he wasn’t a monster, but a man faced with a situation where he had to make a choice that cost him his reputation and his liberty. But Daniel kept silent. He ought to have made her aware of his past as soon as she arrived. Guilt expanded in his heart, blotting out the good that had been between them. Everything Lisa had given him, he had stolen, because she would have never offered him one ounce of her affection if she had known what he was. And yet, beneath the guilt, his pride surged in rebellion. Why should he explain his actions and beg for forgiveness? She had said she loved him. He shouldn’t need to offer evidence of his integrity and honor. If she truly loved him, she should understand his worth and accept him even with his blemished past. But she didn’t. She didn’t even want to hear what had happened. “You can’t leave until Monday,” Daniel said, and he couldn’t tell if the pressure inside his chest came from hope or fear. “It snowed overnight, and the mercury has plummeted again.” She slanted him a sharp look but didn’t speak. Beneath the cool glare, Daniel could see the pain and determination in her eyes, and he understood that Lisa would risk her life to get away from him. **** Frost bit her cheeks, and her breath billowed in white clouds that formed ice crystals on her brows and lashes. Lisa gripped the suitcase with both hands, her fingers freezing as they curled around the handle. Her purse bounced against her side, and the suitcase rendered her gait awkward in the deep snow. Somewhere, in the logical part of her brain, she understood the folly of hauling her belongings, but she needed a total separation from Daniel.

She had allowed her love to reach out for him. Neither the words nor the feelings could be taken back, but she could remove herself to the safety of her usual emotional isolation. Nothing of hers could remain in the cabin, so that possessions could somehow create a link that tugged her back to him. “You’re walking too far to the right. The creek runs alongside the road.” The warning shout came from behind her, calm and impersonal. She halted, turned to look. Bundled in his bulky sheepskin coat, the red wool cap pulled low over his forehead, Daniel waded through the drifts, his long legs more efficient than hers. Her heart gave a painful lurch, but she ignored the feeling, just as she ignored the man himself. With a silent force of will, Lisa forged ahead, sinking knee-deep on each step. Daniel caught up with her and slowed his pace to match hers. The pale winter sun on the horizon cast shadows in the snow. Tears sprung to Lisa’s eyes as his shadow overlapped hers, like a symbolic mating of their spirits. “You can’t force me to stay.” Her words were low, defiant. She stared ahead, fighting the awareness of him beside her, so strong and warm. The feel of his arms around her during the night taunted her. She could hear her own whispered words. I love you. Would it make a difference if he had whispered those same words back to her? Lisa brushed away the thought and picked up her speed, the deep snow trapping her every step. “I’m not trying to stop you from leaving,” he told her. “Then why are you following me?” “To carry you back when you get too tired to go on.” He reached out to curl a hand over her elbow. “You’re walking too far to the right. You’ll stray into the creek.” The suitcase slammed a bruising blow against her hip as she tried to shake him off. Blinded with tears, she stumbled, took a wide step to one side. A crackling sound spread beneath her, and the ground gave way. An icy burn circled her right ankle, seeping into her hiking boot. The sharp edge of ice bit into her shin. “Damn.” Daniel reached over to her from the solid ground. He wound one arm around her waist and lifted her high, freeing her from the treacherous ice. “Your foot’s gone through the creek.” “Don’t touch me.” The emotions she had tried to lock inside her burst free. Grief. Anger. Longing. Love. Lisa dropped the suitcase on the snow-covered ground. Her arms flailed as she

struck out blindly, connecting with the sheepskin coat. The thick leather yielded, until she thudded against the hard flesh beneath. “You can’t go on.” Daniel released her but remained near, looming over her. “You’re not even at the car yet. Less than a mile, with another four miles to go, and a soaking wet boot on one foot. You’ll never make it to the highway, and even if you did, you’d have to wait for someone to arrive and offer you a ride.” Standing still, like a statue, Lisa fought to control her harsh breathing. Defeat coiled around her, like a rope that sealed the frost deep into her bones. Without a word, she leaned down to pick up her suitcase and set off to retrace her steps. “Let me at least carry your bag,” Daniel said, but he didn’t reach for the handle. Lisa halted. Tears stung her eyes. Her ankle hurt as the wet sock and denim began to ice up. In a tiny gesture of resignation, she flexed her arm, and Daniel reached over to free her of the unnecessary burden of the suitcase. In silence, he followed her back to the cabin. **** What had he done to her? Daniel filled a red plastic bowl from the pan on the stove and dipped his hand in the water to test the temperature. Just when Lisa might have put the past behind her, he had stirred up the old grief with his probing questions. And, as if that weren’t enough, he had given her a fresh source of heartbreak. If only he had told her the truth from the beginning. But you wanted her to love you chanted his guilty conscience. You wanted to be the knight on a white horse for her. He cast a bitter glance at the jousting scene on the wall as he crossed the living room on his way back from the kitchen. His heart clenched at the forlorn picture Lisa made, huddled up on the couch, her shoulders sagging, face shuttered, the blue eyes bright with unshed tears. Refusing to let him help her, she had removed her hiking boots and socks on her own. The icy denim leg was beginning to drip water on the floor as the fabric defrosted in the heat from the fire. “Here. Stick your feet inside.” He lowered the basin in front of her. “It’s hot, but not scalding. It will hurt for a while, but that’s a good sign.” Gingerly, she rolled up the legs of her jeans and dipped her feet in the water, toes first, then fully immersed. Her hearty sigh of relief offered him some consolation. At least she wasn’t

hurt. He couldn’t bear the thought that she might have injured herself in her headlong flight away from him. “You might like to take off your jacket.” He shook out one of the blankets he’d folded up while he watched her packing her suitcase, before she rushed out into the cold wilderness. “Don’t touch me.” She flinched, but despite the protest that pierced his heart, he rejoiced at the sign of animation, taking it as an indication of her returning courage. “Wrap the blankets around your shoulders.” He picked up the other three blankets and laid them on the couch beside her. She obeyed his instructions, even shrugged off her down jacket and tossed the garment aside for him to pick up and put away. As Daniel observed Lisa, guilt and love jostled in his mind. Desperately, he searched for ways he could help her, ease her grief. An idea formed in his mind and took hold. He had pushed her to travel back in time in her mind and face the past. Before she left, he wanted her to complete the journey. He crossed the floor to the small room and returned with a stack of unopened letters. “I’ll make you a deal. If you read these letters, I’ll take you to the lawyer in Three Peaks on Monday morning. I’ll tear up the will. Renounce my rights under it—do whatever is the proper legal process to turn down an inheritance. You can have the house and everything in it. His eyes flickered to the wall. “Except the painting. That belongs to me.” Lisa clutched the blankets around her shoulders. A hint of rebellion settled in the harsh line of her mouth. “You said you helped with the work that paid for the house and the land. It would be wrong of me to accept them.” “Then you can sell the property and give me half the money.” Her eyes lingered on him. “This is your home.” “No.” He turned to hide his expression. He knew he couldn’t stay with the constant reminders of their days and nights together. “It’s time I moved on. I have family in North Dakota I haven’t seen in…well, in far too long.” He held out the letters until Lisa released her grip on the blanket and slowly extended one hand to accept the bundle. “That’s the first batch,” he said. “There’s two more. Around a hundred and fifty letters altogether. One per week since your father came out of prison.” She expelled a long sigh. “I know. They usually arrived on a Wednesday. Sometimes Thursday. If one hadn’t appeared by Friday, I began to worry.”

“Read the letters,” Daniel told her as he retreated to his desk.” The way things are, you’ve got nothing else to do until Monday.” If things were different, we’d spend the time making love. The unsaid words hung in the air. **** The stack of sealed envelopes on her right shrank, and the pile of rustling paper on her left grew. Hours passed as Lisa read page after page, the neat script of her father interspaced with tiny drawings of wildlife around the cabin—jackdaws, squirrels, meadow flowers. As she read, the layer of hatred she had used to seal away her love for her father began to crack. The good times reached up like fingers poking through the fissures, pulling her back into the past. Laughter rocked her shoulders at the memory of how as a seven-year-old little princess she’d been caught experimenting with her mother’s makeup. Silent tears streamed down her face at the recollection of how they had found an injured fox cub in the forest and had in vain struggled to save the animal. “Eat.” With a brusque command, Daniel set a tray on the coffee table in front of her. The savory smell of pea and ham soup sent hunger curling in her stomach. Surprised at the passage of time, Lisa lowered the letter she held in her hand and frowned at Daniel. “I thought my father would write about what happened. Ask for forgiveness. Make explanations. Instead, it’s memories of the good times, and little anecdotes of everyday incidents up here. Not a single reference to what happened.” “What did you expect?” Daniel gave a dismissive shrug. “That he’d keep rehashing the worst day of his life?” “I guess I expected…some explanation.” “Keep reading,” Daniel told her and walked away. When darkness fell, Lisa carried on in the dull glow of the oil lamp, not pausing even while she ate the tuna sandwich Daniel brought over. Her mind spanned the years of separation, struggling to see her father with the eyes of an adult. A sigh of regret shook her shoulders as she thought about the box of letters at home, all seven hundred and fifty of them. It had seemed too cruel to return the letters her father sent from prison. Instead of opening the envelopes, she had put them in a shoebox. And then a bigger box. It had been a pain to lug them around every time she moved, but somehow the heavy box

filled with unopened envelopes had become a part of her life, like a childhood teddy bear or comfort blanket that one retains as a mascot into adulthood. Now the box of unopened letters began to weigh on her conscience, and she knew that when she got home, she would have to read every single one of them. Lisa ate the last of the sandwich, added another letter to the pile on her left, and reached for the next envelope. Awareness hovered in the back of her mind that although she sat on the couch and read to honor the memory of her father, another motivation tied her to the task. As long as she occupied her mind with the letters, she wouldn’t have to think about Daniel. **** Twilight had already fallen on Sunday when Lisa opened the last envelope. She had slept in the loft the two nights since she attempted to leave the cabin. Although she had resumed her kitchen chores, she skirted around Daniel, avoiding being drawn even into the most mundane of conversations. The last fifty letters had been peppered with mentions of him. You’d love Daniel. He is a great guy. A loyal friend. I see the same sense of honor in him as your mother and I tried to instill in you. She lifted her gaze to study Daniel where he sat working at his desk. It seemed as if the letters gave her a history with him, a familiarity beyond the short time they had spent together. Her eyes returned to the text. In the final few, the script flowed less neatly, and sometimes the slight change in the shade of ink indicated that her father had stopped to rest and continued later with a different pen. I’m afraid I don’t have long left. I’ve struggled with my conscience. Should tell you what happened on that terrible day? Words put down on paper seem too harsh and unfeeling, but it is my dying request that if you ever meet Daniel, you’ll hear the truth from him. Goodbye Lisa, my child. You are the most precious thing in my life, and although you preferred not to keep in touch, you have always been with me, in my thoughts. Everything I did was for you and your mother. I hope I did right. I’ll leave it for you to judge. But I want you to know that I go to God with peace in my heart. Tears blurred her eyes, then broke free and ran in hot rivulets down her face as eighteen years of silence pierced her heart with regret. And, in the back of her mind, the questions she had struggled to suppress screamed at her, louder than ever. What had really taken place between her parents?

Chapter Ten

Daniel powered down his laptop. As the screen faded, darkness closed around him, and he realized that Lisa hadn’t lit the oil lamp. The glow from the fireplace bathed the room with a soft yellow light. “Have you finished reading?” he asked, looking over his shoulder. “Yes.” He stood and walked over to the sofa. Crouching in front of her, he studied her tearstained face. “Your father asked me to tell you what happened that night.” “I know.” The paper made a rustling sound as Lisa lifted up the letter she clutched in her hand. “Do you want to hear the truth?” She gave him a wordless nod. “What do you remember?” he asked. “Exactly?” Lisa closed her eyes. Tears seeped out from between her lashes, and without thinking, Daniel reached up and curled his fingers around hers. She didn’t pull away. That tiny act of trust gave him a small ray of hope. “I ran into the room.” Lisa spoke in a distant voice. “My mother was wearing a white silk blouse. She dressed well and liked to wear black and white with red accessories. Plain colors in simple designs. She lay on her back on the floor. A crimson stain was spreading over her chest. My father had a gun in his hand.” Silence stretched as Daniel took his time, unsure of how to address the intimate affairs of another couple. “Did you know that for years your parents tried to have another child?”

Lisa jerked her head in another nod. “Yes. My mother kept miscarrying.” “And you knew she’d been depressed over that?” Her eyes blinked open. Worry flickered in her expression. A hint of comprehension furrowed her brow, and then her mouth drew into a hard line of disbelief. Slowly, Daniel continued, hesitating over the delicate topic. “She lost all interest in sex. Your father tolerated the situation, but one night, in some retirement party, he had too much to drink and—” “He had an affair,” Lisa said in a tone of accusation. “Not really an affair. Nothing lasting. A lapse that he regretted instantly. But—” Daniel sucked in a sharp breath. “He felt so damn guilty, he told your mother about it. Begged her to forgive him. But she couldn’t. She just…closed him out. And got more and more depressed.” “No,” Lisa whispered. “No.” “Yes,” he said and clasped his hand tight over hers. “Lisa, your mother killed herself.” She yanked her hand away, her eyes wide with shock and denial. “No, it’s not possible. I was there. I saw—” “Lisa, your mother shot herself. Because she cared about her looks, she didn’t want to be disfigured even in death. She didn’t put the gun in her mouth, or against her temple like most people would, but lined the barrel against her heart. She lived, barely a minute, but enough for your father to find her alive. She spoke, just a few words. Things got…mixed up in her head. She panicked that she wouldn’t be buried in consecrated ground and go to heaven. She begged your father not to tell people that she had taken her own life. And he promised.” Daniel met her gaze. “Lisa, as your mother lay dying, your father promised not to tell anyone that she had committed suicide.” “Oh my God.” Lisa shook her head slowly, listlessly. “She converted. Became a Catholic soon after they married. She loved the pomp and ceremony of the church.’ “Your father picked up the gun, made sure he had some gunpowder residue on his hands. When you rushed in, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. He said he’d been cleaning the weapon. Later, he realized any test would reveal that your mother had been holding the gun, so by the time he made a formal statement, he said they fought over it.” “Why?” Lisa’s mouth trembled as she sought for words. “Why did he do it?” “He felt so damn guilty because of the affair, and even more guilty for telling her. Because he wanted forgiveness, he told her, dumped all the suffering on her, rather than bearing his guilty

conscience. He felt he had driven her to suicide.” Daniel took a deep breath. “And he thought he’d get away with it. But then you…” Lisa stared at him. Pain filled her eyes. “Then I insisted on telling everyone who’d listen that they had argued, he’d been having an affair, and that he never cleaned the gun anywhere but his den.” Daniel nodded. “He made a promise to your mother, and he clung to that promise. It became his sole purpose in life. By then, the wheels of law were turning. He told me that his mind went numb. Switched off. He just didn’t care any more. He thought it might be better for you to be brought up by his sister.” He watched Lisa closely. A crease formed between her brows, a forlorn expression of disbelief. “But how was it possible for him to be convicted?” “He had confessed his guilt. There was only a cursory investigation, and he knew how the legal process works. He knew what to do and say, every step of the way.” “Fifteen years in prison for something he didn’t do.” “Lisa.” Daniel reached for her hands and held them in his. “When your father was dying, he said he’d do it again. His only regret was that you were left alone and branded the child of a murderer.” Her fingers curled around his, then pulled free. “I knew he was lying.” “Yes. That’s why he couldn’t take the polygraph test.” “Oh my God. Oh my God.” She swayed side to side, chanting out the words, her knuckles white as her fists clenched and unclenched. “I did it. I helped to convict my father for a crime he didn’t commit.” “It’s all right.” Daniel rose and leaned over her to smooth her brow, partly to comfort her, but also to gauge her physical reaction. “You didn’t know.” She tilted her head to look up at him, and the vacant look in her eyes sent fear rippling down his spine. Her skin felt clammy beneath his fingers. The rigid set of her shoulders and the odd slurring in her voice were further warning signs that Lisa was suffering from emotional shock. He sat down beside her and draped one arm over her shoulders, curving his body into a protective cocoon around her. “I’m going to give you a tiny glass a brandy. Just a mouthful to help you relax. Then I’ll tuck you in and let you sleep. Tomorrow morning, the snowplow will come, and you can get away from here. You can leave all this behind and get on with your life.”

“No alcohol,” she muttered in a mechanical voice. Her head inched around until she faced him. Slowly, her eyes came into focus, and what Daniel read in them made him shudder. I have no life to get on with. You betrayed me, and my father’s guilt is now mine. **** Lisa shivered beneath the blankets, although perspiration covered her skin. Vaguely, she understood that her tremors were not from cold. Her lungs felt too weak to draw a breath, and her eyes stung, as though full of grit. A shadow loomed at the foot of the couch. Daniel. Sitting on a kitchen chair, his dark eyes on her, calm but watchful. “Sleep,” he said. “Try to close your eyes and get some rest.” I can’t. Lisa thought she’d spoken, but his lack of reaction told her she hadn’t. She tried again. “I can’t.” It came out croaky. Like broken bits of china. Daniel got to his feet and edged closer. “It’s all right.” He reached down and smoothed the strands of hair from her face. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “Go to sleep now.” “You promised.” Lisa squinted up at him, tried to blink away the dryness in her eyes but the sting didn’t ease. “When you carried me from the car, you promised everything would be all right.” “It will.” His hand swept her brow, warm and steady. “Tomorrow, I’ll go and see the lawyer. You’ll inherit this place, and you’ll know that your father loved you, right up to the day he died. You can go home and put everything behind you.” “Daniel?” “Yes, Lisa?” “Were you innocent too?” “No.” His face clouded. “I killed a man.” She closed her eyes to hide her despair. Hope had risen in her heart that two men could be equally blameless, condemned by a trick of circumstances and their need to act honorably to make up for past mistakes. “Who was it?” she asked. “It doesn’t matter. Go to sleep now.”

He continued to stroke her skin, and although Lisa knew that she should have flinched from his touch, she understood that Daniel could never make her afraid. Feeling safe and comforted, despite what he’d told her, she fell into a deep dreamless sleep. **** The logs in the grate had reduced to amber coals. Beyond the window, darkness had already started to thin. Not quite dawn, but close. Lisa rubbed the sleep from her eyes and swallowed to ease her parched throat. “Daniel?” No sound called back. Not the clicking of a keyboard, or footsteps thudding across the floor or the rush of running water from the kitchen. “Daniel!” Unease slithered along her spine. Swinging her feet to the floor, Lisa jumped up. The thick woolen socks Daniel had given her slipped on the polished timbers as she spun around and surveyed the room. The printer stood on the metal cabinet beside the desk, but the laptop was gone. You can have this house and everything in it. There had been something Daniel wanted to keep, but she couldn’t recall what. Her gaze skimmed over the furniture, the desk, the staircase up to the loft. Damn his obsessive neatness. If Daniel had left objects strewn around, she would have known that he intended to return. Her clothes lay folded on an armchair. Lisa scooped them up and dressed with frantic haste. Daniel had to be out in the yard. People didn’t leave without saying goodbye. As soon as the thought had formed in her head, guilt and regret washed over her, making her stall midmotion. She had let her father die without saying goodbye. Tears of shame over her lack of faith in his innocence burst into a bitter stream that coursed down her cheeks. For eighteen years, she had denied her longing and love, pushing aside the instinctive belief that her father was a good man who loved his wife. Fate had given her another chance with Daniel, but despite accepting her love for him, she had learned nothing from her past mistakes. Instead of trusting her heart, she had driven him away, putting more weight on the verdict of a court of law that condemned him as a killer than her own instincts. “Daniel!” she shouted.

And then she saw it. An envelope, with her name neatly printed on top. Not propped on a table, but taped to the hallway door, making sure that she couldn’t leave the cabin without receiving whatever parting message he wanted to deliver to her. Lisa had never known that loneliness could pierce through the skin, like claws sinking deep and slicing inside. As if she’d broken into a thousand pieces, all of them razor-edged. She barely paused to pull on her boots and outdoor clothes. As she burst through the door, a small part of her mind took in the practical, the mildness of the air, and the low clouds that promised more snow. In the drive, now shoveled clear of the deep drifts of snow, tire tracks ran from the weathered grey shed out to the road. “Daniel!” she screamed and set off in a run. Logic told her that he might have left long ago, in early hours before dawn. She’d been sound asleep, might not have heard the groan of the metal hinges or the roar of the departing truck. And even if he had only just driven off, she couldn’t catch a motor vehicle on foot. But logic didn’t matter. Lisa jumped over the icy ridge, formed on the roadside by the snowplow that must have passed earlier that morning. As she raced along the hard surface left by the steel scoop, she had to brace her muscles in order to keep from skidding on the slippery ground. Cold air stung her lungs, and an ache seized her legs. Her hat fell off, exposing her ears to the freezing wind, but she didn’t stop. A stitch set to throb in her side, but she raced on, shouting his name at the top of her lungs, until the sound echoed through the snow-covered meadows in the pale dawn light. “Daniel?” Her steps slowed as she saw the truck parked in front of her stranded car. The bonnet of her red Chevrolet stood up. As she got closer, Daniel straightened and turned to watch her approaching. “Don’t leave.” She gasped out the words. Her heart thundered. Not only from the physical exertion, but from the knowledge that her future forked before her, and if she didn’t choose the right path now, she might never get another chance. He frowned at her, looking tired and defeated. “I was—” “No. Let me speak.” Lisa drew panting breaths. Blood hammered in her ears and every muscle in her legs throbbed in protest. As she slowly recovered from her headlong dash, certainty over what she must do settled in her mind. A sense of peace filled her. Serenity. Even redemption.

“I made a terrible mistake with my father. I knew he was a good man, but I didn’t trust my instincts. I’m not going to make the same mistake again.” Her hands fisted inside the gloves. “Daniel Bergeron, whatever you have done, I know you’re a good man. Will you let me belong to you? Now and forever?” Daniel’s posture grew rigid before her. He appeared to have stopped breathing. His eyes closed so tight that small creases fanned out from the corners. A tremor passed over his lean features as he fought to control his reaction. Lisa waited in silence. She watched as a single tear ran down his cheek. “Daniel?” she whispered, no longer able to bear the uncertainty. His lids lifted to reveal the opaque black eyes. “You read my letter?” “No. I assumed it was a goodbye. I don’t want to accept it.” Her mouth drew into a hard line of regret. “I have years of experience ignoring letters I don’t want to read.” Daniel stepped closer. “You didn’t read the letter? And yet you offer to be mine?” She gave a single nod. Emotions collided on Daniel’s face, and Lisa couldn’t tell what went through his mind. A muscle leaped in his jaw. The dark brows drew together in a stormy frown. “Why?” The single word came out low and terse. “Isn’t it obvious?” She held out a gloved hand. “I love you, and I have faith in you. Whatever you did, I know you must have had a good reason.” Daniel reached out both arms and tugged her close. He lowered his head to bury his face against her shoulder. “I wasn’t leaving. I came to see if I could fix your car. I’ve got some diagrams on my laptop, and I thought I might be able to make it safe for you to drive.” He straightened and looked down at her. “I wouldn’t have left you alone with your grief. Whether you wanted me around or not, I was going to stay until you were strong enough to be on your own.” “That’s going to take a long time.” She reached up and rubbed her glove against his jaw, then lowered her hand, slipped off the glove, and pressed her palm against his skin, feeling the cold air and the rasp of his morning stubble. She tried to make every ounce of her love and longing flow out to him through that single point of contact. “It’s going to take a lifetime for me to be strong enough to live without you,” she told him. Her voice fell. “And you haven’t said anything.” “What would you like me to say?” A sudden smile tugged at his mouth.

“Yes or no would be a good start.” “It has to be a yes. Getting married would be an excellent way of avoiding a legal wrangle over your father’s estate. I couldn’t have come up with a better plan myself.” “That’s not what I meant.” She poked her elbow into his thick sheepskin coat. Daniel drew out her playful, childish side, and she suspected that lightheartedness would be a good ingredient in a relationship. Marriage, if he wanted the legal trappings. She didn’t care one way or the other. Married or not, she knew they’d never part. Daniel tugged the wool cap from his head and pulled it over hers to replace the one she’d lost along the way. “Here. This will keep you warm. Got to look after my bride.” “Aren’t you going to say it?” “I’m not good with words. But when we get back to the cabin, you can read my letter.” He lowered his head. Before his lips closed over hers, he muttered, “I wonder what happens when people kiss in temperatures below zero. They might stick together and never be separated again.” “Would it worry you?” she replied, the words muffled against his mouth. “No. In fact I’m counting on it.” “Good,” she told him, and concentrated on the kiss. **** When they reached the cabin, Daniel surprised Lisa by not pausing remove his boots in the hall. Instead, he strode through into the living room, closed the door and lifted his arm to indicate the letter taped inside the panel. “Read it.” Without a comment, Lisa discarded her gloves and peeled off the tape to release the letter, taking care not to damage the shiny lacquer finish on the door. Daniel’s eyes followed her every move as he waited, still bundled in the thick coat, the short strands of neatly cut hair framing his face in a dark sweep. Her hands shook. The envelope hadn’t been sealed, and instead of tearing the flap, Lisa folded the thick parchment back and slid out the single sheet, crammed full on both sides. Her eyes raced over the narrow lines. “You learn not to waste writing paper in prison,” Daniel said. “I’d like you to read in order, from the top.”

Dear Lisa, I’m not making excuses. I killed a man, and I went to prison for it. I don’t like to speak about it, but I want you to know what happened. My father was Lakota Sioux, and my grandfather lived on a reservation in North Dakota. He was traditional in his ways. My sister Winona and I spent the summers with him while we were growing up. After high school, I took a job in Minnesota, and Winona went to live on the reservation. She married a man who was fanatical about his native heritage. It didn’t work out. Winona had an affair with another man and fell pregnant with his child. Afraid to tell her husband, she arranged for them to visit me, so I could be there when she broke the news that she was leaving him. We were out hiking. I had a rifle. I liked to hunt, strictly legal, and only what I could eat. Winona had been looking for the right time to bring up the topic of divorce, and when her husband complained that he would have preferred to marry a full-blood woman, Winona blurted out that once they split up, he could get his wish. In her anger, she threw her pregnancy in his face, saying that another man had got her pregnant when he had failed. He flew into a rage and caught her around the throat, holding her at knifepoint. I didn’t dare to move. He ranted about the old days, when adultery was punished by cutting off a woman’s nose. He lifted the knife and started to slice into her skin. I knew he was serious. He was going to do it. Scoop away her nose, leaving a hollow in the middle of her face. I slung out my rifle, released the safety, and took aim. I shouted at him to stop, but he ignored me, as if I wasn’t even there. I knew I had to shoot. I only intended to hurt him enough to make him stop, but we were standing on a narrow path between a cliff and a stream. I couldn’t move to one side to get more clearance. He was behind her, his arm around her throat. The only safe shot I had was a head shot, since he was a few inches taller than she. I pressed the trigger, attempting to graze the side of his head, but at that precise moment he shifted to the left, and the bullet killed him. He had two brothers, who were equally fanatical about their native heritage, and my grandfather was a traditionalist. Winona didn’t want to tell them the child was another man’s, for fear that they would try to punish her. But if they thought the child belonged to her husband, they would try to make her marry one of his brothers, according to the old customs. So, she left. I called the police and told them it was self-defense. Winona had gone into hiding. We assumed the trial date would be so far ahead that she could have the baby, and then come and testify for me. But things happened too fast. While she was still in hiding, I was convicted

of murder. When she came back, my attorney filed an appeal, and based on her evidence, my conviction was reduced to manslaughter. I’m not offering apologies or making excuses. Everything happened so fast that I didn’t have the time to think. I had to follow my instincts, which were to protect someone I loved. And now you have become that person. The one I love. You father spoke about you so much, I may have been in love with the idea of you long before I saw you, but that was different. A dream, instead of reality. Now I’m love with you in flesh and blood, with all your good qualities (brave, beautiful, funny, loving, honorable), and your flaws (vain, stubborn, childish, messy, impulsive). So, what I must do now is protect you. And if the best way to protect you is to go away and leave you, then I’ll go away. But if the best way is to stay with you, then I’ll stay. The choice is yours. But whatever you do, be assured of this: Just like your father, I’ll love you till the day I die. Daniel. Lisa blinked away the tears. Inside her, pity at his lost years in prison mixed with the joy that she’d been able to give him the gift of trust she had denied her father. If she hadn’t believed in fate before, she did now. Without Daniel serving time with her father at Rockhill, she would have never met him. “I want you to stay,” she said, her voice rough with emotion. “I know.” Daniel moved closer and cupped her face. “It means a lot to me that you made your decision before you had read the letter—before you found out what happened, why I went to prison. For the rest of my life, it will give me pleasure to know that you had faith in me.” He bent to kiss her. Lisa rose on tiptoe and met the lingering embrace that contained no doubt or hurry. When Daniel raised his head, she studied his features and drew comfort from the way the shadows had lifted from his eyes. Daniel took a step back. “Of all the things I learned from your father, this one is the most important.” He made a fist and flung it to his chest. “Always trust your heart.”

About the Author

Tatiana March writes contemporary and historical romance, as well as romantic suspense. Learning to Forgive is her seventh published book. In her spare time, Tatiana enjoys hiking and camping, particularly in Arizona where some of her historical novels are set. Tatiana lives in Buckinghamshire in the UK. You can read more about Tatiana and her books on tatianamarch.com.

Also Available from Resplendence Publishing Home for a Soldier by Tatiana March Grace Clements is unemployed, lonely and broke. When she agrees to marry Rory Sullivan before he ships out to Iraq, she expects nothing but a Las Vegas wedding, a key to his New York apartment, and a divorce two years later. Instead, she gets a three-day honeymoon and a heart full of dreams of what could be... if he loved her. Ten years ago, Rory Sullivan lost someone he loved. He gave up a life of wealth and privilege and joined the army. Hiding behind a wall of isolation, he avoids all emotional ties - until injury sends him home to recuperate. Home to Grace, whose quiet dignity and gentle concern break through his defenses. As Rory fights his feelings, his gruff resistance drives Grace away. But even when he believes she has betrayed him, he can no longer forget her. Can he make peace with his past in order to win back his wife?

The Bargain by Desiree Holt Lara McKee's life came to a crashing halt the night her husband was killed in a carjacking and she lost their unborn child. Now she channels all her energy into her job as assistant to Cole Cassidy, sexy CEO of Alamo Construction. Cole's own life is a mess. A shotgun marriage based on a lie and the fiery death of his wife on the highway have left him with a child to raise that's a constant reminder of his first wife's lies and deceit. Both of them have written marriage out of their future. But Cole desperately needs someone to mother the child and take charge of his personal life. When he proposes a marriage of convenience to Lara, who still yearns for motherhood, she shocks herself by accepting. And so these two people, carrying a van load of emotional baggage, begin to build a life together under almost impossible circumstances. Conflict builds over the child, whom Lara falls in love with at once and Cole ignores. Beneath the daily conflict, love unexpectedly begins to grow. But at the moment they dare to explore their feelings, anger over the child erupts and the night turns into a disaster that nearly destroys the marriage. Slowly, bit by bit, they begin to re build their relationship, carefully nurturing these new feelings. But it takes another near-tragedy before they can finally get past the hurdles to complete happiness and truly become a family.

Checkmate by Kris Norris

For years he’s hidden in the shadows…watching…hunting. His attempts have never been successful, until now. And his game is just beginning. Kendall Walker and her brother, Trace, share a passion for adventure racing. But when Trace is kidnapped by a psychotic figure from their past, Kendall finds herself immersed in an adventure race beyond anything she’s ever known. And if she doesn’t reach each checkpoint in time, Trace will die. She’ll do anything to get her brother back, even surrendering to a man intent on becoming her lover. Luckily for her, Dawson has other plans. Special Agent Dawson Cade doesn’t know how his life went from complacent to complicated in what feels like a heartbeat. He has absolutely no leads on the bastard terrorizing Kendall, and he can’t stop himself from wanting to take her into his bed. He knows he needs to keep distant, but when circumstances force him to succumb to the desires of a man intent on possessing Kendall, Dawson must face the truth. He’s going to be Kendall’s next lover, even if she doesn’t know it yet. And as the race begins, he can only hope he’s able to save Trace, and keep Kendall from sacrificing herself, in a game where even victory has a price.

Harvest Moon by Janet Eaves After her sadistic husband is dead, Winifred Butler believes herself finally free of his horror. But he continues to torment her from the grave as his secrets and lies, treason and terror, bring Agent Tom Green to her door. She is as determined to keep her past a secret as Tom is committed to bringing her secrets to light. Only one of them can win. So both must fight the attraction to the other, knowing they have everything to lose…

A Perfect Escape by Maddie James A changed identity. A secluded beach. A sniper. Megan Thomas is running for her life. From Chicago, from the mob, from her husband. She runs to the only place she feels safe—a secluded cottage on an east coast barrier island. Smyth Parker is running from life. From work, from society, from a jealous ex-wife—his only consolation the solitude of Newport Island. He doesn’t need to anyone to screw up that plan. And he sure as hell doesn’t need to complicate it with Megan Thomas. But when Megan fears she’s been found, she runs to the only safe place she knows, and straight into the arms of the one person who might be able to help, Smyth. Her escape might yet still be perfect. Or is it?

Rough Edges by Jannifer Hoffman

When Julia Morgan M.D. miscarries twin girls, she divorces her husband, believing he is to blame. He forces her out of her position at the hospital and threatens her credibility as a doctor if she attempts to practice medicine. Without mentioning her medical degree, Julia accepts a position as nanny on a Colorado ranch 900 miles away. Dirk Travis is in trouble. His wife has gone missing, and his housekeeper is threatening to quit. He is in desperate need of a reliable person to look after his four-year-old twins. Even though Julia appears to be the answer to his prayers, he can’t help but think she’s a bit too perfect. Both insist their relationship will be business only. While those plans start to go awry, other things begin to happen. People are getting killed and Dirk is the prime suspect, but that doesn’t stop the heat index from rising between Dirk and Julia, even as she appears to be the next target.

Brilliant Disguise by JL Wilson An undercover FBI agent in a tiny Iowa town finds you can’t hide anything from a woman who’s determined to find out the truth… Nick Baxter, an undercover FBI agent, thinks his brilliant disguise will fool the hicks in New Providence, Iowa. They won’t suspect he’s there investigating widow Shannon Delgardie, under suspicion of treason. What Nick doesn’t know is that everybody in town is conspiring to protect her and investigate him in return. Shannon needs help. The men her late husband blackmailed are closing in and the FBI might be involved. When Nick approaches her, can she trust him? With the aid of computer hackers and hair stylists, she uncovers the truth, finding a love she never expected in a tiny Iowa town.

Worlds Apart by Kris Norris Two cultures—one dusty planet. Intergalactic relations have never been so hot. Starship Captain Samantha Grier has only two options—crash land her warship on an unknown planet inhabited by God knows what, or drift through space. She never counted on becoming part of a colony of barbarians, or becoming the center of attention for their illustrious leader…a man more than capable of claiming both her heart and her body. Too bad not everyone is thrilled by the new sleeping arrangements. Griffin can’t believe his good fortune. Not only did the humans arrive just as their power grid was failing, but their Captain is a vision of beauty. With blue eyes and fair skin, he knows instantly that she’s his intended mate. But claiming her is the easy part. When brutal attacks bring the two cultures to the brink of war, will he be able to keep the colony together, while maintaining his role as her mate? Or will the tension leave them worlds apart?

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