SEAL by Fate Page 3

  . If he walked there, would he find someone that could help? Preferably someone with transportation, but the likelihood of that was small, and even if he did, what vehicle could make the dangerous road tonight?

  Looking back at the car, he could take her with him. He would have to carry her, of course. Not a big deal, but the deep snow would make it more difficult. The aching in his legs, especially his knee, was a strike against him. He couldn’t leave her though, not knowing how long it would take him to get back to her. If she woke up alone, she might try and walk again and that was the last thing she needed with the head injury. Or in three-inch heels.

  The answer was already made for him.

  Going to the passenger side, he opened the door and scooped her up, gently cradling her in his arms. He stood, feeling a sharp twinge in his knee and he gritted his teeth. Once it passed, he retraced his steps to the road. The snow was still falling heavily and everything seemed so gravely quiet. If it wasn’t that the area was surrounded by mountains on one side and a ravine on the other, he was certain he wouldn’t know where the road began and ended. The tracks from the tires were already covered.

  He wasn’t dressed for a hike in this weather, but his boots and jacket were enough. He’d been in far worse conditions and this was nothing compared to hiking in one hundred ten degrees or hunkered down low in swamp waters while hearing sniper shots whizzing by his head. At least out here the only thing he had to fear was the cold. He did worry about the woman though. Although she looked snuggled in the gown and coat, the strappy heels on her feet left a lot to be desired. How in the hell had she thought she could get very far in this weather dressed like this? She would have died from hyperthermia. Something terrible must have driven her and he understood how much a person could handle in dire circumstances.

  Starting on the road, he stared ahead as fat snowflakes fell. Any other time he might think the scenery was stunning. The blanket of snow acted as insulation and the only thing he could hear was the even beating of his heart and the heavy pants of his breaths. The ache in his head and legs throbbed, reminding him of boot camp when he’d been so exhausted he thought he’d keel over, but he’d kept going, even when he thought it impossible at times.

  Automatically Gray began to hum a familiar Navy Cadence, then sung, “I’m a steam roller, baby, just a rollin’ down the line, so you better get outta my way…” Singing had gotten him and his buddies through PT. Even now, with his teeth chattering and his knee threatening to give way, he continued stomping through the thick snow that soaked the legs of his jeans. He sung as ice crystals smacked him in the face and melted. His hair was wet, and the tips of his ears were cold, but a SEAL never gave up—never saw any situation as impossible.

  Instincts on high, he guessed they were close to the cabin. He was cold but sleeping beauty seemed as snug as a bug in a rug with her cheek pressed against his chest, and on occasion she’d whimper like she was having a good dream. She had no clue what they’d gone through together so far. At least he hadn’t dropped her.

  He came to where the road curved and the landscape inclined. He had to dig his boots in deep and balance his weight on his toes as he pushed up the steep, slippery slope, hoping that the tread on his boots would grip some form of land and give him leverage. He’d made it almost half way up the slant when he felt his foot slip and he came down hard onto his already aching knee. He squinted and cursed under his breath, grateful that he didn’t go tumbling, along with the woman, down the bank. He didn’t even want to think about retracing his steps back up the hill.

  Picking himself up and still cradling sleeping beauty, he gritted his teeth, forcing his boots to take each step in the crunching snow against the blustery wind until finally the land leveled out some. Because the area was protected by tall trees, the snow wasn’t as thick up there and they were protected against some of the cold wind. On the flat surface he was able to pick up speed, hoping he’d come upon #216, or any cabin, soon. The cabins were spread far apart, but he banked on the fact that she knew she was close enough that she could walk.

  Sleeping beauty mumbled something. Maybe “monster”?

  Did she think he was a monster?

  “It’s going to be okay,” He felt the need to assure her of her safety, although he didn’t think she could hear. “We’re close. I can feel it.”

  The muscles in his arms were growing weak. Although she was a lightweight, probably not an ounce more than a hundred ten, he must have banged up one shoulder in the wreck. A seatbelt injury. His knee felt like jagged knives were slicing into the kneecap and the force of the wind made walking a lot more difficult.

  A few more feet and miraculously the snow slowed.

  He should be at Silver Carlisle right now, visiting his dad. He hadn’t seen him in months and the man wasn’t getting any younger. Gray had promised he’d be there and lately he’d made a lot of them that he hadn’t kept. Sometimes it was hard for a man to please everyone.

  Where the hell was this cabin?

  The quiet seemed to grow louder and Gray was stuck in his thoughts. He hoped Sleeping Beauty was warm enough. Who the hell was she? He didn’t find anything in her car to help him answer that question. Damn! What if she had her things in the trunk? Too late for that because there was no way he was going back.

  What was her name? Julie, Becky, Pamela, or maybe Susie? Or something edgier like Athena, Bianca, Berlin, or Parker? What did she do for a living? How old was she? Did she like chocolate? His mind swirled.

  He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he inspected the distance ahead and there it was…a cabin. The outside light was turned on and he could read the wrought iron number. 216. He held the woman with one arm as he dug into his front pocket, pulled out the key and checked the number on the label. Bingo. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief. The place was tucked against the mountain side and looked like a painting. He couldn’t see much above the tree line because of the snow. He guessed the place would be amazing any other time.

  Was there the possibility that her groom was waiting inside? No lights were on and Gray didn’t see a vehicle or tracks. This might be a difficult story to explain. He couldn’t just blurt out that he’d almost run her over, she jumped and hit her head, and he carried her up the mountain.

  Taking the last few hundred steps to the front door, he wondered how desperate the woman must have been to bring her sportscar into the mountains in this kind of weather. What had kept her from getting married at the eleventh hour? He knew she hadn’t gone through with it because she wasn’t wearing a wedding band. She did have a diamond. Had she just gotten cold feet? Did her fiancé cheat and she found out?

  Slow down, man. Just because his fiancé had cheated days before the wedding didn’t mean hers had. He couldn’t shift his negative ideas of marriage onto other people.

  His mind drifted back to the day Hannah had decided she needed to bare her soul by telling him she’d cheated. She’d gone on to say, “I was lonely. You shouldn’t have signed up for the military without talking to me first. I’m not cut out for being alone while you’re out protecting others. What about me, Gray? Had you even thought about protecting me?” Her words were branded inside every cell of his brain.

  At the time, he’d thought she was being selfish, but now, looking back, he could see her point. It was difficult for those left behind while their loved ones were deployed. If only she’d stuck around…

  Hell, who was he kidding? They were both better off. If they would have gone on with the wedding they would have been divorced by now because they didn’t have anything in common. He hoped Sleeping Beauty could say the same down the road.

  Anyway, he hadn’t met another woman since Hannah that conjured up ideas of long term, but if he did, he had a feeling he’d remember what she’d said to him about “not wanting to wait for him”. Now that he was no longer a sailor, the same rules applied to him as a lawman. He was gone a lot, neck deep in dangerous situations, sometimes wondering i
f he’d make it out alive…so what woman would want to be in his life permanently? It could make a man gun-shy.

  Pushing his thoughts aside, he propped her on one thigh, his muscles shaking from exhaustion as he hurried to unlock the door and stepped inside the cabin. An immediate warmth enveloped him, although there was no heat on. Sliding his hand along the side of the wall, he searched for a switch to the light and finally realized he had to turn on the lamp on the side table. Once the place was aglow he didn’t waste time examining the place as he normally would, but instead laid her on the couch. He rubbed his biceps, and once the feeling was back, he grabbed a throw from the arm of the nearby chair and covered her up. Switching to proactive mode, he made a haphazard list inside his head of what he needed to do first.

  Get his wet clothes off.

  Kicking off his shoes and socks, he then climbed out of his heavy jeans and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing everything to the side to worry about later.

  Reaching for his phone from his discarded jeans, he saw that he still didn’t have service. Throwing the phone onto the coffee table, he crossed the room to the stone fireplace and started a fire with the cut wood from the nearby basket. Once he had a blaze going and the room was warming up, he stood and took the time to finally survey his surroundings. The rustic rock fireplace was the focal point of the room, covering an entire wall with antique vases lining the mantle. Framed paintings of horses, wilderness, and wildlife dominated the walls. There was a small open kitchen which he hoped was stocked with food. A bedroom was off the kitchen where he grabbed a thicker blanket and pillow before returning to Sleeping Beauty to cover her and prop her head up.

  After further investigation, he found the thermostat that was reading at a whopping fifty degrees, so he switched on the heat. With the blazing fire and furnace turned on, the place would be cozy within a half hour. Thankfully, to his appreciation, he found a few cans of food in the cabinet. Most importantly, there was also a large canister of coffee, which he quickly set the coffee maker to brew.

  Going back to the woman spread out on the couch, he looked down at her, glad to see that some of her coloring was coming back to her cheeks and her lips were pink and plump. The fresh bruising on her forehead looked stark against her alabaster skin. Her blonde hair had all come loose from the top knot and now lay in a damp cascade over the pillow in soft waves. Seeing her in the light, he still thought she was stunning.

  Touching her skin, she wasn’t as warm as he would like.

  She’d never get warm wearing wet clothing, so he set out to remove the cold, soaked coat. The trim of the gown was torn, and spots of blood scattered the bodice. The skin exposed in the short sleeves was clammy. He debated for almost a full minute whether he should remove the dress or not, and then he blew off his hesitancy as foolishness. This was an emergency and in times like this it was safety over modesty.

  Starting with her shoes…if they could be called as much. The heels were tall. So tall they could second as weapons, with dainty straps across the top of her foot and ankle and closed toe. It took him a good ten minutes to undo the stubborn clasps, but he eventually managed to get both heels off. The next thing he worked on was her thin hose. They were thigh highs and the tops were hooked to a sexy lace garter belt. It could drive a man mad to know what was underneath a gown.

  With nervous fingers, he unhooked the belt clips and peeled the damp hose down her long, toned legs, making sure to pay close attention to any bruising or signs of injury. All he found was creamy white skin, delicate ankles, and pink-painted toenails. He swallowed hard and covered her legs with the warm, soft blanket.

  He dragged the top of the blanket down her shoulders, staring in confusion at the bodice of the gown. He could have just as easily been staring at a straight jacket because the dress seemed as confining as one with the exception that her ample bust was lifted high above the lace and silk that seemed to embellish the mounds perfectly. Gray gently rolled her over toward the back of the sofa and his breath came out in a sigh as he took in the row of teeny tiny pearl buttons. At least thirty if he had to guess. He had sympathy for the poor bastard who would be in a hurry to get this off during the honeymoon. “This should be very fun, Sleeping Beauty.” The first one was already undone for him, but the next few were a bitch. Delicate buttons weren’t made to be unhooked by wide, clumsy fingers like his, and because he didn’t want to rip the fabric, at least more than it already was, he was painstakingly treating each button with great focus, much like if he were disarming a bomb.

  By the time he was halfway, about fifteen minutes in, he’d debated the importance of worrying about the fabric when she didn’t even care enough to stick around for the ceremony. Would she care if there was another hole? Probably not, and yet he continued carefully, managing to only pop one pearl button off that was lost somewhere under the couch. Finally releasing the last button, he dragged the sleeves down her arms and sucked in a ragged breath. The dark tips of her nipples were visibly hard under the strapless lace bra. “Sorry. I’m not intentionally staring,” he said as if she might know what he was doing.

  Keeping his gaze focused, he examined her for bruising and found some fresh marks on her left shoulder where she must have landed in the snow, and more marks on her wrist…but the bruising appeared much darker, as if it was already in the healing process. He could make out what looked like the outline of two fingers. His breath whizzed out of his lungs. “Who did this to you?” he whispered. “Is that why you didn’t marry him?” He investigated her face. “Hell, are you even old enough to get hitched?”

  Wanting to hurry, he dragged the gown lower over her flat stomach, pausing at her navel at the diamond stud piercing.

  Swallowing hard, he took a second to gain his bearings and tugged the delicate material over the flare of her hips where he found a small butterfly tattoo and lace panties that were as see-through as her bra. Feeling his throat constrict and his stomach twist, his body twitched to life. The rush of blood to his zipper made him shift uncomfortably. Although he didn’t plan this, he couldn’t have talked himself out of an erection if his life depended on it. He could see a thin trail of hair between her inner thighs. So, she was a natural blonde.

  He sucked in a breath, chastising his body for reacting like this. The woman relied on him to keep her safe, not admire how beautiful her body looked laying there stretched out on the couch. Or how pretty and delicate her features were, or the softness of her hair. Or how that diamond stud lured him like a lighthouse to a sailor. He guessed he could make the butterfly’s wings flutter. However, the rock on her fourth finger made his balls shrink.

  She was engaged.

  He blamed his body’s response on the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in far too long. He’d been too busy chasing criminals, which made him seem pathetic. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have sex, but while he was working a case he kept his brain in the game and his dick in his pants. That had always been his motto. Finding pleasure during dangerous assignments could land a man in big trouble, or dead.

  Giving his head a shake, he stayed concentrated on removing the gown the rest of the way and quickly pulled the blanket all the way up to her chin.

  “There, you should get warm now.”

  She didn’t stir.

  “I’ll run and find a first aid kit. I hope this place has one.”

  Hurrying down the darkened hallway, he found the bathroom and looked all around the space that was almost as large as the rest of the house. The large jacuzzi tub dominated the area and red rose petals were scattered on the floor. Searching through every cabinet and drawer, just his luck he found a first aid kit in the last one.

  Returning to the living room, he sat on the couch next to her hip and began examining the injury on her head. The blood had dried and matted her hair. Although the cut had bled a lot, the wound itself wasn’t bad and didn’t require stitches. There was a bump and it was possible that she had suffered a concussion which was why she was sleeping.
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  Goosebumps scattered her skin and her teeth chattered.

  “Are you still cold?” he whispered.

  She wasn’t out of the woods yet.

  So, after he cleaned the wound and placed a small bandage on her head, he joined her on the couch. It was a narrow fit, but once he slid her over, there was just enough space for him to lay down beside her if they cuddled close. He had no problem with this idea, but he hoped she would understand that this was the quickest way to raise body temperature. As a SEAL, he’d been in situations where his team had huddled close to stay alive. Although he couldn’t rightly compare those times to holding this woman. There weren’t many situations he could compare to this.

  Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her into the spoon of his body and not surprising, she fit perfectly. She was cold to the touch, and he hoped his warmth, their combined warmth, would raise her temperature. He pressed his feet against hers and he jerked. This was much like snuggling an icicle. To hasten the outcome, he rubbed her arm, her hip, leg, and her shoulders, finally starting to feel the heat.

  A moan sounded from deep within her chest and he lifted on elbow to look down at her profile. Her eyes were still closed. Her thick lashes were so long they brushed the tops of her cheeks that were scattered with pale freckles. One corner of her mouth lifted as if she found something humorous. Picking up a tendril of her hair, he twirled the silken strand around his finger and brought it to his nose to catch the scent. Vanilla. No, honey vanilla. Letting the strand fall back to the rest of the mass, he ran his knuckles along her cheek admiring how soft her skin was.

  “Everything will be okay. You’re safe here with me.” He felt the need to assure her, not even sure she could hear him, but he didn’t think it would hurt to soothe her.

  He started humming as if the soft tune might calm her.

  He thought back on the accident, wondering if he could have done something different. Maybe swerved the wheel to the right instead of the left. Maybe if he’d been going slower, or anything that would have kept the beauty from being frightened enough that she jumped into the ditch. If he wouldn’t have been on the road this wouldn’t have happened—but then again, if he hadn’t been there, would she have made it to the cabin? He didn’t think so.