Savage Cinderella (6 page)

When he opened the second sketch pad, Justin
stopped and stared. Before him was a perfect self-portrait of Brinn
staring down into the still water of a lily pond. The water
reflected her wide eyes. The soulful expression on her face nearly
broke his heart. Her long dark hair created a tunnel of shadows
that framed her reflection, emphasizing the loneliness and
heart-wrenching sadness that permeated the drawing. But there was a
spark of something else in her eyes, a firm set to her chin.
Determination? Strength? He had an overwhelming compulsion to tear
the page out and fold it into his pocket.

Justin's head popped up from the picture at
the sound of a loud thump from outside, as if a heavy object had
just been dropped. Setting the book aside, he stood and hobbled to
the door. Maybe Brinn was back and needed help with something too
big for her to handle. He swung the door open and gasped. A huge
bear loomed above him on hind legs.

Obviously as surprised as Justin, the bear
reared back a step. Justin staggered, stunned by the proximity and
size of the bear. Forgetting about his foot, he howled in pain as
he stumbled backwards and crashed to the floor with a shuddering
thud. His head exploded with renewed pain.

The bear charged him and pounced. Justin
screamed. The blow crushed him as if someone had dropped a boulder
on his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. The hot rancid
breath of the mauling bear bore down on his face, its jagged fangs
gleaming as it snarled.

Justin thrashed helplessly and quickly
realized that escape was impossible. The creature pinned him to the
floor with the force of its enormous weight. But despite its
efforts to keep him pinned, the bear wasn’t actually mauling him.
More accurately, it was wrestling him. It grunted, sniffed, and
slobbered, but so far, he'd only felt the pressure of the large
claws. He threw an arm up to block his face, expecting to feel the
rip and tear of flesh or teeth clamped onto his arm. He waited for
the pain, but none came. He continued to holler as the bear licked
his face and slobbered between grunts. An acrid animal scent
permeated the air around him, stifling his breath.

Then, a high-pitched whistle followed by a
lyrical chant of unfamiliar words brought the bear to a halt. As
the furry, four-legged creature stepped off his chest, Justin took
in a huge breath, the relief instantaneous. The bear must have
weighed four hundred pounds. Brinn stood in the doorway, laughing
hysterically as the beast passed by her at a trot. With her hands
over her mouth, she grinned down at Justin’s supine figure as he
panted heavily on the floor.

His heart pounded furiously. Sweat—or bear
slobber—coated his face. Justin gaped at the wild abandon in which
Brinn laughed, her lips stained a deep blue. Regaining his
composure, he asked dryly, "Is that a friend of yours?"

She bent over in a fit of giggles. Holding
her sides, she sputtered. "You should have seen your...you looked
like...I've never seen anything so..."

After a moment, she pulled herself together.
She stood upright and crossed the room to help him off the floor,
clearly still wanting to snicker. No more than five feet, seven
inches tall, but stronger than she looked, Brinn squatted and
lifted him under his arms. She wrapped her fists tight around his
chest, then stood and raised him from the floor with assistance
from his good left leg.

“
Are you hurt?” she asked.
Once he was standing, she reached over and grabbed the makeshift
crutch and tucked it under his left arm.

“
I don’t think so. He
didn’t seem to want to hurt me.”

“
She is a good judge of
character.” Brinn looked up at him cautiously. After a moment’s
hesitation, she wrapped her left arm firmly around his waist,
tucked her head and shoulder under his right arm, and helped him
hobble neatly over to the bed. She spun him around to help him sit
and they both crashed onto the bed sideways as Brinn lost control
of Justin's large frame. The bed squeaked in protest with the
strain. Having landed facing each other, the two broke into
laughter—both quickly coming to their senses and left with nothing
to do but look at each other from inches apart.

Justin remained very still. He didn't want to
frighten her but he had an overwhelming urge to wipe a smudge of
dirt from her cheek and touch her stained lips. “Your lips are
blue—kind of purple, really.”

She touched her lips, her brows furrowed in
question, and then she smiled shyly. “Juneberries—I brought you
some.” Silence spread through the cabin as they looked at each
other intently. Finally, she reached out and gently rubbed her palm
over his face, exploring the rough stubble on his jaw. Examining
the two-day beard growth as if it were something foreign and
offensive, she let her eyes drift back to his. A determined
expression took over her face. "I have something that will take the
needles off." She moved to get up.

“
Wait.” With no reason or
thought other than to keep her close, Justin reached for her hand
and captured it before she could escape. She swung her fist around
and cuffed him on the ear. Stunned and momentarily deaf, he
released her and fell back on the bed, grabbing the side of his
head. "Ow! What did you do that for?” Unintended anger infused his
tone, his head pounding with renewed vigor from her
assault.

Brinn retreated several steps and then stood
glaring, wide-eyed, a mixture of fear, anger and confusion on her
face. She shook her hand, clenching and unclenching her fist, and
paced back and forth. She kept one hand on the hilt of the six-inch
buck knife strapped to her side, and eyed him with irritation. "Do
not try to take me like that again."

"I'm sorry. I didn't understand...before. I
do now." Justin sat up on the edge of the bed, still rubbing the
offended ear. Someone had hurt her on a level far deeper than he
imagined. "I won't touch you again if you don’t want me to, okay?"
He held up his hands in a sign of truce. Her pace slowed and her
hands relaxed. He let out a slow breath. "Would you like to tell me
about the bear?"

Her chin lifted in defiant control. "She was
abandoned as a cub. When I found her in the high meadow, she was
hungry and alone. I took her in. At first, I had to hike for half a
day to get milk from a farmer’s goat for her. Eventually, she
learned to forage for herself. Then, one day she returned to the
forest and found a mate." Her cheeks flushed and she cleared her
throat. “I saved her life and she has been my friend ever since. We
take care of each other. She’s welcome to come here when she
wants.” She added sheepishly, “I call her Kitty.”

The expression of loyalty and seriousness on
her face forced a smile to his lips. She was completely unaware of
how ridiculous and adorable she looked. Standing there blue-lipped
in her tattered cargo pants, worn hiking boots, and a grubby tank
top, she looked the picture of a savage Cinderella—one whose only
companion was a bear.

Sometime during the night she must have
changed her clothing. The tank top hung loosely at her neck and
arms, revealing more of her body than Justin could ignore. The
golden glow of her tanned shoulders and the rounded edge of her
breast captured his eye, sending a jolt from his heart to his
gut.

What was he going to do about her? A wild
girl in the wilderness of the Blue Ridge Mountains, surviving here
for only God knew how long, with a bear named Kitty. This would
make one hell of a story.

Given the stubborn and guarded frown that
covered her face, interviewing his subject might prove challenging.
His lip twitched as he suppressed a smile. He’d never backed down
from a challenge before. He wasn’t about to start now.

Cleanliness is Next to Godliness

On the morning of the second day, while she
applied a goopy mixture of calendula, clover, and garlic in an aloe
base to the gash on his scalp, Brinn focused all of her efforts on
nursing his injuries. She handed Justin a steaming cup of sweet
birch bark and willow tea, and smiled in sympathy as he scrunched
his nose at the smell of the pungent liquid. “Drink it,” she
ordered, knowing the aspirin content would ease his aches. He
pulled away from her prying fingers. “I’m sorry if I’m hurting you,
but I have to make sure the medicine gets in.” Justin winced but
held still as she probed and added more sticky solution to the
scabbed cut.

“
You really need to work on
your bedside manner, Brinn.” His big earth-brown eyes peered up at
her behind long lashes. She softened her touch, painfully aware of
his warm body close to hers. The lingering eye contact momentarily
scattered her thoughts.

Brinn cleared her throat and ignored the
butterflies that floated uneasily in her belly. “You’re lucky I
don’t have to stitch it up; that hurts worse than tearing out
porcupine quills.”

He studied her face with an expression of
mixed disbelief and wary admiration. “You have firsthand knowledge
of both, I assume?”

She shrugged. “You don’t want to get an
infection. The smallest of wounds can make you very sick if you
don’t care for them properly.” She had learned this as she had
learned everything else—through years of pain and hard-earned
experience. Cuts, scrapes, colds and flus, stomach bugs, and
digestive upsets had all been managed on her own. She’d had no
choice but to learn to take care of herself.

“
That’s what antibiotics
are for,” he grumbled.

“
That’s true, but this
works as well,” she said, smiling, satisfied her herbs would do the
trick. Something about the battle against unseen germs always
stirred memories of her mother. Brinn felt certain her mother’s
angel had sent Mr. Hoffman to help her. “I cut my foot once and Mr.
Hoffman had to get me some antibiotics and take care of me. He said
I was lucky not to lose my leg. I think he was just looking for an
excuse to lecture me about the value of hand washing and something
about cleanliness being next to Godliness.” She grinned and then
stopped abruptly, realizing she’d said too much.

“
Mr. Hoffman?” Justin
asked.

Brinn reluctantly withdrew her hands from the
silky curls on his head. She peered down at her patient and evaded
his question again. “It’s healing fine. I think you’ll be well
enough to go home soon.” A tight knot formed in her belly at the
thought of Justin’s leaving, but she couldn’t keep him away from
his home any longer. She certainly couldn’t go with him. He
wouldn’t want her anyway—-not if he knew. She couldn’t bear the
thought of those warm brown eyes looking at her with pity...or
disgust. It would be better this way—if he just left and forgot
about her. Besides, the risks involved with returning to the world
were too great. The less he knew about her, the better.

“
You’re not going to answer
my questions, are you?” he pressed.

Brinn curled her hands into fists and wrapped
her arms around her middle, stubborn emotions bubbling up like stew
in an overfull pot. Part of her wanted so badly to trust this
stranger, but a jumble of fear, sadness, and anger kept her frozen
in indecision. She thought carefully before answering. A sobering
sense of finality filled her with dread. She may never see him
again. But it couldn’t be helped.

“
My life is here, Justin.
No one can know about me. I need to know that you will keep my
presence here a secret.”

Justin stared at her for a long time, a stern
expression on his face. “Why can’t you tell me where you came from?
I have some contacts in the police department...”

“
No!” Every inch of her
skin tightened. “Please...you can’t, no police. I can’t
explain...you can’t tell anyone I’m here...please...” Her insides
twisted like gnarled branches at the thought of police. They will
put you away in a cage if they catch you. The cruel voice
reverberated in her head. The cold that accompanied the words sent
a shiver across her skin.

“
Okay, okay. I won’t go to
the police.” He looked like he wanted to argue the point further,
but he nodded. “I want what’s best for you, Brinn. I’ll do whatever
I can to help you.”

The look of determination on his face and the
soothing protectiveness in his voice gave her reason to hope. Did
she dare believe him? Someone like Justin added to her short list
of trusted friends...well, hoping for such a gift was probably
foolish, but both Abby and Mr. Hoffman had been risks worth taking.
Maybe Justin could be trusted too.

He wrinkled his nose at the pungent odor that
filled the air and reached for the cool layers of cloth wrapped
around his swollen ankle.

Brinn caught his arm. “I don’t care if it
smells awful; you will wear that poultice until I say to take it
off. The wolfsbane and chamomile will help the bruises to
heal.”

He grumbled under his breath again and then
met her stern expression with an arched brow and a flash of dimple
as his lips curved up on one side. “I appreciate all you’ve done
for me, and I know it must be hard for you to have me here—to trust
me.”

Warmth flushed her cheeks. “You wouldn’t have
fallen and gotten hurt if I hadn’t led you up that dangerous
slope.”

“
It wasn’t your fault. It
was stupid of me to chase you.”

“
Why did you?” She knelt at
his feet and unwrapped the poultice from his ankle. The bruises
flourished in deep shades of purple and red, with yellow and green
starting to show around the edges. At least the swelling looked
better.

He twirled his foot in a slow circle, his
teeth gritting against the pain. “At first, I just wanted your
picture for the magazine. But then...I guess I wanted to meet you.
I wanted to find out who you were and why you were out here living
in the mountains.”