She had waited so long for it to happen to her. She had almost given up hoping that it ever would. How could she have known that love would find her so soon after she’d finally stopped searching for it?
He lifted his head only a fraction of an inch and started to speak. Chloe wasn’t quite ready to hear what he might have said. She drew him back down to her.
He kissed her again, but something had changed this time. She sensed him trying to gather himself, trying to get his needs under control. Donovan wasn’t a man to let himself get swept away for very long, if ever.
She didn’t try to stop him when he pulled away this time. He rolled to his back, letting the rain pelt his face for a moment before he shoved himself upright.
“We should walk as far as we can before dark,” he said, his voice impassive, his face expressionless. “We’re both too wet to worry about the rain now, anyway, so finding shelter wouldn’t do us much good. And you’re shivering. You’ll probably warm up quicker if we’re moving than if we sit still.”
She knew he must be fully aware that her trembling had little to do with being cold, but he seemed to be pretending nothing earth-shattering had just happened between them. “Donovan?”
“At least we’re on the other side of the stream,” he said, half turning to look back at the water. “Not exactly the way I would have preferred to cross, of course.”
“Donovan, I—”
Still without meeting her eyes, he offered her a hand. “Here. Let me help you up.”
He wasn’t going to talk about it. Not now, anyway. She took his hand, but was careful to support her own weight as she rose slowly. “Do you know how to get back to the road?”
“Yes. You really weren’t carried very far by the water. Not as far as it probably seemed to you.”
“The rain seems to be letting up a little.”
He moved a spreading bush aside and held it until she moved past. “Yeah. I think it’s about to stop. It’s about time we had a little luck. Watch your feet. It looks slippery ahead.”
It was ridiculous that they were discussing the weather, she thought as she glared fiercely at the ground ahead. How could he kiss her the way he had and then start talking about the chances of rain?
He was right, of course, to change the subject. This was hardly the time to discuss the future—at least any future beyond getting out of these woods.
And still she heard herself saying, “I’m not going to marry Bryan.”
Donovan hesitated a few moments, then stumbled on. “That’s between you and Bryan. But I still don’t think you should make a decision of that magnitude under these conditions.”
“I’m not being impulsive. My decision would have been no different even if we hadn’t been kidnapped.”
He stepped carefully over a fallen tree trunk, grimacing when he was forced to put his weight down on his right leg. “Let’s just concentrate on getting out of here, shall we?”
He moved ahead of her, and she looked at his back. His shoulders were squared, his spine very straight, even though his steps were slow and halting. He had withdrawn from her mentally, emotionally and physically.
Her instincts warned her not to push him. He was the one who obviously needed time to process what had happened between them. Maybe it wasn’t as easy for him to identify his emotions as it had been for her when she’d been struck with that stunning revelation that she was in love with him.
Remembering the unguarded look on his face when he had first seen her after fearing that she’d drowned, she told herself that he had to feel something. Replaying those passionate kisses in her mind, she wanted to believe that his feelings were as strong as her own. It was the possibility that she was wrong—that she had only read into the kisses what she wanted to find there—that kept her quiet now.
As badly as she wanted to be rescued, she couldn’t help wondering if leaving this forest would also mean saying goodbye to Donovan.
After finding the dirt road again, they struggled along without giving each other much assistance, since neither of them was in much better shape than the other. It had stopped raining again, though the air was still so heavy and damp that it was almost like breathing water.
Wet and cold, miserable and edgy, Chloe winced in pain with every step. She knew Donovan was hurting every bit as badly—if not more so—though he didn’t complain. He didn’t say anything, actually. He just limped on, his face grim, his movements determined.
He’d become the uncommunicative stranger again. Only this time she sensed that he was having to make an effort to remain that way. Now that he had reached out to her, she thought he would have liked to do so again. She could only speculate about his reasons for withdrawing so abruptly—loyalty to Bryan, uncertainty of her feelings, fear of the future or baggage from his past. All of the above.
“It’s getting so dark,” she gasped after stumbling into a rut and nearly falling on her face. “I can’t see where we’re going. Shouldn’t we find another cave or someplace to spend the night?”
“Try to make it just a little farther.”
Was he uncomfortable with the idea of spending another night in a cave with her? They’d spent three nights in each other’s arms now, their feelings escalating each night—was he afraid of what might happen if they spent another night that way?
Personally, she didn’t think he had much to worry about. She was so tired she suspected she might become comatose the moment she stopped moving.