The breath he drew to roar her name felt like the first he’d pulled into his aching chest since he’d heard the breaking glass and her aborted shriek.
“Emma!”
The echo faded, leaving the whisper of falling snow and the low growl of his truck engine. A trail of blood and thrashed snow led behind the Jeep. Nathan followed it, the freezing air biting at his face, his uncovered ears.
From the pine trees alongside the road came the snap of a breaking branch. Nathan swung around, scanning the night. The light from the half-moon barely pierced the treeline, and the shadows between the pines danced in the flashing red and blue lights from his truck. His muscles tensed; something was moving through the woods, its eyes reflecting the strobe lights like a cat’s. He aimed his flashlight, switched it on.
The high-powered light flooded Emma’s pale face before her hand flew up, shielding her eyes.
Oh, thank God. Thank God. His knees almost gave out, but through some miracle, he remained standing. He skimmed the light down her body, and his heart lurched. Blood stained her sweater and jeans. He pushed into the snowdrift on the highway shoulder, began to wade towards her. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” She lowered her hand. Her voice was steady. “He’s gone. Towards Pine Bluffs.”
And must have turned down a side road. Nathan hadn’t met anyone on his way here. “Is that his blood or yours?”
“His. I panicked and bit him.” Her head tilted back as he drew closer, and he could see the trail of blood under her jaw, the faint smear on her chin.
“Good,” he murmured, and lifted his cold hand to her warm cheek, gently turning her face. A livid bump had formed beneath the short dark hair; the skin was broken.
“Biting him was not good, Nathan. Not good at all.” She sighed, then winced when he brushed his thumb over the bump. “He whacked me with the jack.”
Hit in the head with a jack, and she was still upright? There was no chance that that was going to last; she must be running on pure adrenaline. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, turned towards the road. “Let’s get you back to town.”
Back. Finally. But he hadn’t imagined her return would be like this.
And God only knew why she’d left in the first place.
Emma waited in Nathan’s truck while he spoke with the deputy who pulled in behind him a few minutes later. She warmed her hands in front of the heater as Nathan grabbed her suitcases from the back of her Jeep. Melting snow darkened his brown hair to black, and plastered the short strands to his forehead. He’d come without a hat, without tying his boots, without changing out of his chequered flannel pyjama pants. He’d remembered to button his sheepskin jacket over his bare chest only after Deputy Osborne had arrived.
“Once word of this gets out, your deputies are never going to let you live it down,” she said when Nathan slid into his seat.
He glanced over towards Osborne. When he looked back at Emma, his broad grin kicked her heart against her ribs. “Word isn’t getting out. Last year, I caught Osborne in the break room singing - and dancing - to Britney Spears.”
“How’d you know it was Britney Spears?”
“It’s a damn good thing he never asked me that, isn’t it?” Nathan made a U-turn, lifting his hand as he drove past Osborne. “How’s your head?”
She prodded the bump on her scalp and grimaced. “Not bad. It only hurts when I touch it.”
“Then—”
“Don’t touch it.” She met his eyes. There was warmth and laughter there, just as there’d been six years ago when she’d fallen off one of his horses, bruising her pride and her elbow. Her Aunt Letty had given her the same advice then - don’t touch it. “Yes, I know.”
His smile faded as his gaze swept over her again. “We’ll stop at Letty’s, have her look at that bump. Then I’ll take you both to my place.”
Aunt Letty’s old farmhouse shared a lane with the Forrester property. “Do you think that’s necessary?”
“Yes.” The instrument panel cast a faint green light over his hard profile and the grim set of his mouth. “We’re pretty sure he’s local. And even if we try to keep your identity quiet, word will get out.”
And everyone knew where Aunt Letty lived, where Emma would be staying. “Will he come after me?”
“If he thinks you can identify him, yes. No one’s gotten away from him before.”
Nathan had already asked if she’d recognized her attacker. Emma hadn’t. She’d know him if she saw him again though. Or smelled him.
With luck, however, she wouldn’t have to taste him again. “I bit his hand pretty hard,” she said.
“I can see that.” His gaze dropped to her shoulder. The blood soaking her wool sweater overwhelmed almost every other odour in the Blazer, so that beneath its metallic scent she only detected a faint hint of coffee, vinyl seats, the earthi-ness of male skin and his lingering fear. “We’ll keep a look out for any hand injuries. But this time of year, everyone’s wearing gloves. Even if you took a good chunk, he could hide it.”