“You do,” Grey said, his voice sounding harsh. “Anyone who has been through what you have these last few hours would be disoriented. And you’ve not been a mother very long.”
She must have said her thoughts out loud, and Grey was scolding her for them. She tried to roll over to bury her face in the pillow so she could bawl in private, but she couldn’t turn over. Her muscles wouldn’t work. The attempt did tell her one thing, though. Greylen MacKeage was as naked as she was.
“Could you…could you maybe let me have the bed to myself?” she asked in a strained whisper, hoping her shock didn’t show in her voice. “I, ah, would be more comfortable.”
He laughed out loud, shaking the bed as he did. Grace stifled a groan. Even that movement hurt.
“I will. Just as soon as you tell me where you hurt.”
“I’ll tell you just as soon as you leave the bed,” she countered, still keeping her eyes closed to the pounding in her head.
Silence was all the answer she got. Finally, she felt the bed dip and heard him scramble up and away.
She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, and the ache in her head suddenly dulled.
“Ho-oh. It’s started now,” Ian said. “The MacKeage is already backing down from an argument with her.”
Grace heard something hit the wall across the room with a plop, followed by good-natured laughter.
Gingerly, and in great pain, she pulled the blankets tight to her neck and concentrated on each inch of her body, taking stock of just where she ached.
She concluded that she was one massive bruise. The muscles in her legs and back were cramping with a will of their own, and the tips of her toes and fingers tingled with needle-pricking intensity.
She had come very close to getting frostbite. If not for the protection of the cave Grey had made her and the pilot’s waterproof boots, they would probably be cutting her toes off in less than a week. She had kept her hands warm with the heat from the battery on her computer. But if Grey hadn’t arrived when he had, she would be dead now.
He’d saved her life. And he had saved Baby.
How was she ever supposed to repay that kind of debt?
“Are you hungry?” Father Daar asked her in a whisper, leaning close to the bed. “I have some stew ready.”
“No, thank you, Father. I’m just sleepy.”
“I wouldn’t be going back to sleep if I were you,” he said in a co-conspirator’s tone. “Grey would have a worried fit. You scared ten years off his pagan life this morning.”
She gave the priest a huge smile. “If he’s a pagan, Father, then he’s redeemed himself. He saved me and Baby.”
Father Daar gave her a warm smile back. “That was never a question, girl. Greylen MacKeage is a man who succeeds at whatever he sets his mind to. You were never in any real danger.”
“I’m still waiting for your answer,” the object of their conversation said from right above her.
Grace turned her head and looked up at Grey. “Nothing’s broken or frostbit. My muscles are just so sore and stiff that I don’t want to move.”
He seemed to think about that, staring down at her with assessing evergreen eyes. Finally, he nodded.
“You may sleep, then, if you need to,” he arrogantly told her. “When you wake you’ll eat, and then we’ll take you down the mountain.”
“Where’s my bag?” she asked. “Is it still in the cave?”
He walked over to the table and brought it back to her. “Here. Do you want the tin?”
“Yes, please,” she said. “Thank you.”
He took the tin out of the bag and tucked it under the blankets beside her.
“Thank you,” she repeated.
“Are ya hungry now, lass?” Callum asked, eyeing the lump in the bed where the tin sat. “Cookies aren’t what you should be having. You need real food.”
“The tin’s not carrying cookies,” Grey answered before she could, his gaze not leaving hers. “It’s carrying Mary Sutter.”
A silence so loud it was nearly deafening suddenly settled over the one-room cabin.
Chapter Seven
No matter that they were all safe now, it seemed that Greylen MacKeage was still in charge of this adventure. Grace could only watch helplessly from the bed as the man issued orders like a general.
Within ten minutes the tiny cabin was cleared of Scots except for Grey.
Even the priest was gone. Grace had protested sending the frail-looking man out in this weather, but Grey had been too focused on his plan to hear her opinion. Father Daar was to accompany the pilot’s body back down the mountain and stay with him while Callum and Morgan went into town to notify the authorities and lead them back to the crash site. Ian would return with the snowcat to take Grace and Baby back to Gu Bràth.
And so Grace patiently waited until she had Grey’s undivided attention before she explained her own plan to him.
Only it wasn’t that easy. It’s hard to project authority when you’re lying naked in bed with the covers pulled up to your chin. It’s even harder when the man you’re trying to impress is impressively naked himself from the waist up.
“Do you have some clothes I can put on?” she asked Grey.
He turned from the woodstove to face her, a steaming bowl of stew in his hand and a crooked grin lifting one corner of his mouth. “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?” he asked, walking toward her.
Grace tightened the covers at her neck. “I’m not wearing anything.”
He sat on the bed beside her, the heat from his thigh sending another round of needles shooting through her quickly overheating body. “You don’t need clothes,” he said. “You need food and rest, in that order.”
“I have to get up,” she countered. “I need to get my muscles working again so I can take Baby home.”
He was shaking his head. “You just survived a great ordeal, Grace. You’re still too weak to look after yourself.” He lifted the spoon from the bowl and held it up to her lips. “Eat and rest, and leave everything to me. In a day or two I’ll take you home.”
Grace refused to open her mouth for the stew. She didn’t glare or pout but simply stared at Grey with the patience of a woman determined to regain control of her life. She wasn’t angry. Not yet. Grace understood that it was hard to relinquish authority once it was given.
Grey slowly set the spoon back in the bowl and lifted one brow at her in question. “What happened to our partnership?”
“I’m dissolving it,” she said, tempering her words with a smile. “I owe you my life, Greylen MacKeage, but I want it back now. You don’t have to keep taking care of me.”
He looked as if he wanted to protest but seemed to think better of it. He stood up and set the stew on the table, grabbed his shirt from the floor, and shrugged into it. He then picked up a bundle of clothes sitting by the door and set it down on the bed beside her.
“I thought to grab these this morning when I reached Gu Bràth, just before coming back for you. They’ll be too big, but they’ll be warm.” He reached down and took her by the chin, lifting her face to his. “If you can dress yourself without passing out and prove to me that you can care for your son, then maybe I’
ll think about taking you home.”
That said, he turned on his heel, grabbed his jacket, and headed out onto the porch.
Grace blinked at the door softly closing behind him. That had been way too easy. She looked at the bundle of clothes and immediately felt bad. Only a caring man would have thought to grab her something to wear while trying to save her life.
And to thank him, she had hurt his feelings.
Baby stirred in the crate beside her, and Grace quickly shook out the bundle of clothes. Her arms felt heavy, and her muscles protested, but she forced herself to sit up and slide into the flannel shirt Grey had brought her. She had to roll up the sleeves several turns just to find her hands. Then she took the large wool socks and slipped them onto her feet.