That was not good. Wet clothes pulled heat away from the body. “Unzip your jacket,” he told her.
“Maybe you should take off a few layers.”
“I’m thirsty.”
He thought about that. “You can take some snow and suck the water out of it, but then spit it out. Don’t hold it until it all melts.”
“Why not?”
“It takes too much of your body heat to melt ice. Just suck what water is immediately available. Then spit out the rest.”
“How do you know all this stuff?”
He grinned in her direction through the darkness. “I’m from the Highlands,” he said. “The tricks of winter survival are taught from the cradle.”
“Why did you move to America? And why Maine?”
What to tell her? Not much, that was for sure.
He shrugged his shoulders. “It seemed like a good idea. The four of us wanted to build a new life for ourselves, and Maine, although slightly more forested than the Highlands, seemed as good a place as any.”
He couldn’t very well tell her that Daar, the old priest, had convinced the four of them that these mountains were where their destiny lay.
Too bad Daar had saved the MacBains’ lives, too. All of them had died from their inability to adapt. All except Michael MacBain. Finding himself suddenly alone in this strange world, the bastard had followed them to Maine. And it had taken all of Grey’s power as laird of his shrunken clan to keep his men from dispatching Michael MacBain to hell with the others.
“I’m ready now. How far do you think we’ve come?” Grace asked.
“About one mile,” he told her truthfully, thankful that she didn’t pursue her previous line of questioning.
“One mile!”
“The crust of ice on the snow is getting thicker. Soon you should be able to walk on top of it. But then there’s the risk of you slipping and falling.”
“We’re not going to make it, are we?”
“We will,” he told her. “I’ll have you in front of a fire by daybreak.”
But for the first time in his life, he was going to break a sincerely given promise, Grey decided three hours later.
Grace could not walk any farther. The crust had grown thick enough to support her, but, as he had feared, she had fallen more than once down a steep incline or stumbled over an ice-covered rock. This time, however, he could see that the fall had finished her.
He helped her up and brushed the hair from her face. His hand came away wet, and he knew it wasn’t rain he was feeling. She was crying, silently, not saying a word.
He had to leave her, and that went against every instinct he possessed. The temperature was only just below freezing, but Grace was soaked to the skin. And she was not sweating or shivering. Her exhausted body was no longer producing heat.
“Sit down and rest,” he told her, helping her to a spot under the canopy of a giant spruce tree.
Grey walked around, pushing at the crust with his feet. He found a place that he broke through all the way up to his thigh. He walked back and carefully took Baby out of his nest.
“He’s stirring. I think you should feed him. Can you do that?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered, her voice barely audible.
He set Baby in her arms and took out one of the bottles he’d put in the bottom of the pack on his chest to keep warm. “When you’re done, I’ll change his diaper. It’s important he keep dry.”
She didn’t answer him. She was too busy concentrating on her task. Grey watched for only a minute and then went back to the hole he had made in the crust and started digging. He scooped out the dry snow from the drift buried beneath the ice, forming a cave large enough for a person. Then he broke off several pine and spruce branches, shook the ice from them, and laid them on the floor of the cave.
Satisfied with his job, he returned to Grace to find Baby fussing in her arms. Grey picked him up and laid him on his shoulder. The infant let out a burp that would make a drunkard proud. He took off his jacket, laid it on the ground, and quickly changed Baby’s diaper. Then he wrapped Baby up, protecting him from the elements, and turned to Grace.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“Grace,” he said, slowly peeling her jacket off. “I think it’s time we changed your clothes.”
“I didn’t bring any,” she said, trying to slip back into her jacket.
He forcibly pulled it away. “I’m going to give you my T-shirt and sweater.”
He saw her eyes widen in alarm. “What will you wear?”
“My jacket is waterproof. Yours isn’t. I can put Baby’s pack against my bare chest and put my jacket over us.”
“But your sweater will just get wet then, if I wear it.”
Well, at least some part of her brain was still functioning. That gave him hope. “No, it won’t, Grace,” he told her.
“Because I’m going to tuck you into a waterproof cave. But I can’t put you in there wet. Help me take off your shirt.”
She merely blinked up at him. She wasn’t catching on to his plan. Hell, she probably wouldn’t even realize he was leaving her until he was gone. He hoped like hell she didn’t panic then and try to follow him. He was going to have to seal her into the cave securely.
He didn’t like the idea of burying her. But it was the only thing he could think of to keep Grace alive long enough for him to get help.
He pulled Baby’s pack off his shoulders and pulled off his sweater and T-shirt in one swipe. He grabbed Grace’s wet tops by the hem and pulled them off over her head. The skin beneath them shone lily-white in contrast to the darkness.
“The bra, too, sweetheart,” he said, reaching around her to undo the clasp. He didn’t find one. But he saw her hands go to the front of her breasts. He pushed her cold, shivering fingers out of the way and worked at the intricate snaps for at least a minute, finally admitting defeat and ripping the delicate material with his hands.
Her skin was cold to the touch. Grey realized they were both sitting there naked from the waist up, and he quickly gathered her into his arms, pulling her into an embrace that would transfer some of his heat to her.
Grace immediately snuggled against him. Grey closed his eyes with a groan at how cold she was. He tucked her head under his chin and held her tightly.
“My God, you’re so warm,” she murmured.
He couldn’t respond because she was scaring him to death. She should be slapping his face for such intimate contact. The freezing sickness was slowly claiming her body. She was shutting down, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Except leave her.
“Aw, hell,” he growled, tugging her head back and lowering his mouth to hers, kissing her with a fierceness that heated his blood to near boiling. He moved one hand from her back to her breasts, covering them completely, willing his heat into her.
Grace opened her mouth and accepted his assault. She made a noise that sounded more desperate than lustful and began squirming until she was straddling his lap. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, tugging him closer, acting as if she wanted to crawl under his skin.
Grey was ashamed of himself. Grace Sutter was acting instinctively, desperate for the contact, wanting to pull his warmth—the very life energy he possessed—into herself. But he couldn’t stop kissing her. She felt like an ice cube and tasted like sunshine. He wanted her. He wanted her to live.
And he wanted to get her down off this mountain and claim her as his.
Grey had to force himself to pull his mouth free, but he still couldn’t leave her. He rained kisses over her eyes, her tear-covered cheeks, her nose, chin, and throat. He moved his lips lower, to her breasts, and kissed them when she arched her back against his mouth.
He was shaking with need for her.
She was shaking with need for his warmth.
With great reluctance and no small amount of will-power, Grey straightened and embraced Grace against him again, wrapping his arms around her until she was completely surrounded by his heat. He held her in silence as long as he dared, the cold slowly, quietly creeping into his own naked skin.