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her hands on his broad shoulders, feeling them flex as he lifted her from the saddle and lowered her to the
ground. He let go of her immediately and strode to the cottage. The wooden door was swollen from the
humid air, and it took a hard shove to open it.
 Here. He gave her the sack.  Go inside. Try to find some candles. I ll see to the horse.
Squinting in the darkness, Celia ventured into the cottage. The floor creaked underneath her feet. Seeing
the outline of a window covered with heavy batten blinds, she crept toward it, her ears pricked for the
sounds of rodents or any other creatures who might have taken refuge there. The blinds opened with a
squeak, allowing a flood of moonlight into the room. Celia drew the curtain of coarse netting across the
open window and turned to look at her surroundings. There was little furniture in the cottage, only a
battered trunk, a tiny rope bed in the corner, a stove, and a table and two chairs.
Slowly she went to the trunk and lifted the lid, searching through its contents. There were a worn
blanket, an ax, a mallet, tin cups, and various other articles. A breeze from the window stirred her hair,
and she lifted her face appreciatively, relishing the cool air on her skin. It was quiet& so quiet.
Without warning, a strange coldness crept up inside her, a feeling that would not subside. Standing up,
she wrapped her shaking arms around her middle. There was no reason to be afraid, she told herself.
Only children were frightened of the dark. But the room was filled with a menace that hovered around
her. It was the first time she d been alone since she had been locked in the hold of the ship. Being alone
in the darkness had suddenly become her greatest terror. She was too afraid to move. The sack dropped
from her nerveless hands.
Breathing hard, she forced herself to take a step toward the door. The shadows seemed to pull at her.
Griffin, she tried to call out, but her voice was only a strangled whisper.
There was a movement outside the doorway. All at once she bolted out of the cottage in silent terror,
feeling a hand catch at her elbow.  Celia 
She wrenched her arm free and stumbled backward a few steps, her eyes wide. Griffin stood before
her, his eyes narrowed.  What is it? he asked.  Are you hurt? Did you see something?
No, nothing so ordinary. Just a nameless, childish fear she could not control.  I-I m all right, she said
with difficulty, wondering if she had finally lost her wits. Griffin stepped forward, and she continued to
back away. If he touched her, she thought hysterically, she would fall apart. She couldn t bear any more.
She wanted it all to be over, now. She was so tired of being afraid, feeling lost. She wanted to be at
home in Paris, in her own soft bed with its crisply ironed sheets, listening to her family s voices just
outside the door. She wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.
 Celia. He spoke quietly, staring at her drawn face.  Celia, come here.
 No.
 We re going to the water.
 No 
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 Then do whatever the hell you want. He turned and walked away at a relaxed pace. After a few
seconds of indecision she began to follow him.
He heard her footsteps behind him, and his frown eased. As he had expected, she was too exhausted to
make decisions for herself. He was sorely troubled by his own reactions to her, which was why he was
glad he would be rid of her on the morrow. Women were nothing but a momentary convenience,
something to discard as soon as they sated his desires. This one was the first who had ever depended on
him for anything, and he didn t like it. He didn t like the way he felt when that stricken look came into her
eyes. He especially didn t like the damnable urge to comfort her that swept over him with increasing
frequency. Softness was something he did not allow himself ever.
He reached the water s edge and surveyed the area with expert eyes.  Take the bandages off your feet,
he said shortly.  You may as well wash the powder off. By now it s done all the good it s going to.
Celia sat on the pebbled ground, stretching out her slim legs one at a time. It would be a relief to wash
her feet, for they had been hot and suspiciously itchy all day. Leaning over her right foot, she pulled at the
knotted cloth, loosening the bandage. The smell of the herbs, bitter and moldy, rose to her nostrils.
Painstakingly she began to unwind a strip of cloth, finding that her fingers were unusually clumsy.
With a soft curse Griffin sank to his knees beside her, his thighs widespread. She stared at him,
wondering what had irritated him. He unwrapped her foot efficiently and lowered it into the water. Celia
closed her eyes at the feel of the cool water and the strong hands rubbing away the caked powder.
Gently, his fingers slipped between her toes, over the ball of her foot, pressing deep into the arch. She
responded with an involuntary sigh of bliss. He flexed her foot at the ankle, set it down, and reached for
her other one. Celia was ashamed of the pleasure she received at his hands, but that did not stop her
from relaxing and enjoying it.
All too soon the moment was over, and she opened her eyes as Griffin pulled off his boots.  Are you
going to wash your feet also? she asked.
He dropped his jerkin to the ground.  I m going for a swim.
 But but there may be alligators 
 Not on this side of the lake. He smiled.  Not usually.
 But what will you do if one has decided to visit?
 I ll tell him I ve brought a Vallerand with me. That should frighten him away.
As he stripped off the last of his clothes, Celia turned her face with a gasp, covering her face with her
hands.
 Very modest, for a married woman, his softly jeering voice fell to her scarlet ears.  Or did your
husband bed you only in the dark? No, don t bother to answer. You re easy to read.
She glared at him through her fingers. Laughing, he plunged into the water. She watched him dive and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]