Read Online Lorraine Heath by Always To Remember - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Always To Remember
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luck, he’d lose his way, wander through the encroaching darkness, and not return to camp until morning.
Meandering along a virgin path through the wooded area, she gathered fallen branches as her thoughts drifted to the morning. She shuddered with the memory. She had not only spoken with a man she loathed, but she had almost enjoyed the conversation. And she’d smiled at him. A coward. A man who had betrayed those he called friends. For God’s sake, what had she been thinking?
He’d lured her into talk of a happier time when Kirk stood by her side. Clay’s brown eyes had twinkled with something akin to merriment as he’d baited her. He and Kirk had discussed things. Had discussed lots of things. Silly things. Things of a personal nature.
She issued a very unladylike snort. They’d probably discussed nothing.
She picked up a heavy fallen branch and swung it through the air as though it were a club. She could use it to knock Clay right off his feet if he tried to talk to her again. Smiling, she added it to the wood nestled in the crook of her arm.
She reached for another log, and a rattlesnake’s rapid tattoo of warning vibrated through the air. Moving only her eyes, Meg searched the undergrowth of brush until her gaze locked onto black eyes that held no life but promised certain death.
As though in a dream, she watched the coiled snake spread its mouth wide, baring its protruding fangs. It lunged toward her. She’d always imagined that death would come quickly, not slowly, giving her time to scream against the injustice. Thunder echoed, and the rattlesnake disappeared.
“You all right?” Clay asked as he grabbed her arm. She stared at him mutely, and he shook her, his voice growing louder. “Are you all right?”
The knowledge that she was alive surged through her simultaneously with the realization that he was touching her. She jerked free of his grasp. “Don’t ever touch me.”
He shook his head. “Don’t know why I was worried. Your hatred probably would have poisoned the rattler if he’d had the misfortune to dig his fangs into you.”
Reaching into the thicket, he retrieved the lifeless rattlesnake. “If my rifle blast didn’t clear the area of game, your scream did. Guess we’ll eat rattler for supper.”
Meg stared at the long, thick length of dark brown and gray. Clay held the mangled snake level with his chest, and still its tail brushed the ground. Even in death, the snake’s massive body appeared powerful and deadly, and she’d been its prey. She shook violently as her stomach lurched.
“Are you gonna be sick?” Clay asked.
The tingling beneath her jaws increased in intensity. She felt the blood drain from her face and cold sweat pop out on her brow. She clutched the wood to her chest, searching for something to stop the trees from spinning. He knocked the wood out of her arms.
“Grab your knees,” he ordered. “Take deep breaths.”
She tried to breathe deeply, but the air was beyond reach and eluded her as easily as the calm she fought to maintain. The burning in her stomach rose into her throat, and she began retching.
Clay walked away, and she was grateful that he left her to suffer this embarrassment alone. She was more grateful that he’d hauled the snake away with him.
She heaved long past the time when her stomach was empty. Hearing approaching footsteps, she pressed her balled fist against her aching midriff and slowly straightened her quaking body. Despite the lingering warmth of day, she felt chilled.
“Here,” Clay said as he shoved a tin cup filled with water beneath her nose. “Go on. Take it. I didn’t drink from it.”
She took the cup, filled her mouth with water, and swirled the lukewarm liquid around before spitting it out. She repeated the process while Clay gathered the wood.
“I’ll get the fire started,” he said just before he walked away.
The sun had fallen beyond the horizon by the time she found the strength and desire to return to
Meandering along a virgin path through the wooded area, she gathered fallen branches as her thoughts drifted to the morning. She shuddered with the memory. She had not only spoken with a man she loathed, but she had almost enjoyed the conversation. And she’d smiled at him. A coward. A man who had betrayed those he called friends. For God’s sake, what had she been thinking?
He’d lured her into talk of a happier time when Kirk stood by her side. Clay’s brown eyes had twinkled with something akin to merriment as he’d baited her. He and Kirk had discussed things. Had discussed lots of things. Silly things. Things of a personal nature.
She issued a very unladylike snort. They’d probably discussed nothing.
She picked up a heavy fallen branch and swung it through the air as though it were a club. She could use it to knock Clay right off his feet if he tried to talk to her again. Smiling, she added it to the wood nestled in the crook of her arm.
She reached for another log, and a rattlesnake’s rapid tattoo of warning vibrated through the air. Moving only her eyes, Meg searched the undergrowth of brush until her gaze locked onto black eyes that held no life but promised certain death.
As though in a dream, she watched the coiled snake spread its mouth wide, baring its protruding fangs. It lunged toward her. She’d always imagined that death would come quickly, not slowly, giving her time to scream against the injustice. Thunder echoed, and the rattlesnake disappeared.
“You all right?” Clay asked as he grabbed her arm. She stared at him mutely, and he shook her, his voice growing louder. “Are you all right?”
The knowledge that she was alive surged through her simultaneously with the realization that he was touching her. She jerked free of his grasp. “Don’t ever touch me.”
He shook his head. “Don’t know why I was worried. Your hatred probably would have poisoned the rattler if he’d had the misfortune to dig his fangs into you.”
Reaching into the thicket, he retrieved the lifeless rattlesnake. “If my rifle blast didn’t clear the area of game, your scream did. Guess we’ll eat rattler for supper.”
Meg stared at the long, thick length of dark brown and gray. Clay held the mangled snake level with his chest, and still its tail brushed the ground. Even in death, the snake’s massive body appeared powerful and deadly, and she’d been its prey. She shook violently as her stomach lurched.
“Are you gonna be sick?” Clay asked.
The tingling beneath her jaws increased in intensity. She felt the blood drain from her face and cold sweat pop out on her brow. She clutched the wood to her chest, searching for something to stop the trees from spinning. He knocked the wood out of her arms.
“Grab your knees,” he ordered. “Take deep breaths.”
She tried to breathe deeply, but the air was beyond reach and eluded her as easily as the calm she fought to maintain. The burning in her stomach rose into her throat, and she began retching.
Clay walked away, and she was grateful that he left her to suffer this embarrassment alone. She was more grateful that he’d hauled the snake away with him.
She heaved long past the time when her stomach was empty. Hearing approaching footsteps, she pressed her balled fist against her aching midriff and slowly straightened her quaking body. Despite the lingering warmth of day, she felt chilled.
“Here,” Clay said as he shoved a tin cup filled with water beneath her nose. “Go on. Take it. I didn’t drink from it.”
She took the cup, filled her mouth with water, and swirled the lukewarm liquid around before spitting it out. She repeated the process while Clay gathered the wood.
“I’ll get the fire started,” he said just before he walked away.
The sun had fallen beyond the horizon by the time she found the strength and desire to return to
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