Savage Cinderella (8 page)

It dawned on her that if she hadn’t ventured
to a new spot further downstream, she wouldn’t have met Justin and
he wouldn’t be here with her now. This time, she was filled with
gratitude as she sat on her heels in the shallow, icy water. When
she plucked their dinner out of the stream with her bare hands,
Justin’s smile lit up like the sun, warming her deep inside. She
didn’t know why his approval meant so much to her, but it did. Was
it foolish to want him to like her? It shouldn’t matter to her; he
wouldn’t be here long. Her heart sank at the thought.

Later, after they returned to the cabin, they
shared an evening meal of trout, steamed vegetables, and another
can of ravioli. They chatted over dinner, his offer to help her
clean up afterward, accepted with alacrity. She’d never had anyone
to share chores with. He organized her books alphabetically while
she swept the floor and arranged a bouquet of deep purple hyssop
and bright yellow tansy into a tarnished silver vase, setting it
carefully in the center of the table. Her cabin lit up, bright and
full of life with the remnants of the late afternoon sun streaming
in.

"So, I think I should be mobile enough to
hike down the mountain by tomorrow. Would you show me the way back
to a main trail? I can find the rest of the way on my own."

Brinn grew solemn. While she wasn't used to
having someone underfoot and dependent on her, she was enjoying
Justin’s company and a part of her dreaded the idea of him leaving
her alone again. His presence made her realize how painfully alone
she had been.

Quickly registering the disappointment that
sprung to her face, he added, "Or you could come with me. You could
stay at my condo in Atlanta until we figure out who you are. Maybe
we can find some of your family."

Brinn shot out of the chair and stalked
around the room. Nervous and agitated, she paced—the roiling energy
inside building momentum like an uncaged animal ready to spring. "I
can't leave the mountains. This is my home. I told you—I have no
family. My parents are dead." Her voice rose, panicked frenzy
breaking the surface. She wanted to revel in the fact that he
wanted her to come with him, but fear silenced her hope and strung
her nerves tight.

Justin rushed to calm her, "Okay, you don't
have to come with me, but maybe I can help you. I can come back and
bring you supplies to make it easier to stay here. I could help you
fix this place up and bring you clean sheets and towels and stuff."
He looked around the cabin, unmistakably unimpressed.

An old familiar sensation, a poisonous rush
of shame, soured her stomach. She had seen him bathe himself
thoroughly each day, shaving the needles off his face, scrubbing
his teeth with a ragged end of a twig, and combing his hair with
his fingers until the thick waves looked soft and silky.

Brinn looked down at her own appearance and
cringed. Keeping her hands clean seemed prudent, and she cleaned
her teeth every day, but she didn't wash her clothes or bathe as
often as she would have liked, and her hair had grown tangled and
knotted. The stream water was cold and the air brisk through the
winter and spring months. At least in the summer she could take
advantage of the swimming holes and waterfalls that sprang up out
of the forest at every turn. Making a fire for warmth or to cook
food was done out of necessity, and she took advantage of the
opportunity to clean up whenever she could, but to heat water just
for the purpose of washing away the dirt of the forest seemed
futile. Although Justin made it his first priority each morning and
the results were undeniably appealing.

She hated to compare herself to other people.
Strangers, even at a distance, made her feel unwanted and
unacceptable with their looks of disdain and judgment. Her
appearance kept them from approaching her, and she felt safer for
it. Knowing she would never fit in, she avoided the cold glares of
disapproval by staying out of sight. She noticed Abby's clean
clothes, perfect yellow hair, and shiny white teeth, but never felt
like her friend looked down on her for being
less...less...civilized.

"I don't need anything from you." She bit her
lip and turned to face the fire. "You should just go back to your
life and forget I’m here." She suddenly felt very small and young,
her emotions mixing in a way she didn’t understand.

The day had passed and the cool of night in
the mountains settled in. A raw chill shivered along her limbs.
Before she knew it, he was on his feet and limping toward her. He
stopped short as she glanced over her shoulder, halting his
approach.

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad, Brinn."
His expression was one of regret. Worse than regret, she saw pity,
and the weight of it was unbearable. She didn't want or need his
pity. She survived by being alone. She had been fine for the last
eight seasons and she would be fine when he left.

"May I touch you?" he asked. He stood so
close now that she could feel his breath warm on her neck. A part
of her wanted more than anything to feel him touch her. Over the
past days together, the invisible barrier she’d created between
them was set in a hard line—a line that he had not crossed and had
fully respected. Now, she felt him struggle not to reach out, not
to take her in his arms, not to take her...

"I can't..." She whispered, closing her eyes
to block out the blaze that flushed her skin from the fire. But she
couldn't block out the flames that burned inside her flesh. Heat
radiated from Justin's body, only inches behind her, igniting
sensations she never imagined she could feel. An aching need filled
her, a longing that brought confusion crashing in around her. To be
touched, to be held gently, to be...loved. Was it wrong to want
such a thing?

"I only want to hold you. I won't do anything
else." He stood behind her, waiting patiently for a response, his
calm energy more powerful than any words of comfort. "Let me hold
you, Brinn."

Whenever he said her name, a tender glow
washed over her and infused her with a sense of belonging. The
long-held feeling of being invisible disappeared. He could see her
and he seemed to know exactly what she needed. Her heart filled
with gratitude at his presence. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks
and she leaned back, closing the remaining inches between them.

Justin lifted his hands, placed them gently
on her shoulders and drew her back against him, resting his chin on
the top of her head. The fire warmed her front and Justin’s body
sheltered her from the cold night at her back. The sensation of
solid warmth filled her to the point of peaceful surrender. His
hands were like blankets, large and soft, warm and comforting.
Brinn basked in the feel of his firm chest against her back, the
way her bottom fit perfectly in the hollow between his thighs. Then
she stiffened as she felt the hard length of him against her lower
back. "Justin, do you have to pee?"

"Not this time." He turned her to face
him—shadows of golden firelight illuminating his tender smile—and
carefully wiped away her tears with soft fingertips.
"Sometimes...good men," he stressed, "when they...care for a woman
and want to be close, sometimes it happens then, too." He was
obviously referring to the hardness that pressed against his pants.
She knew she should be frightened, and part of her was, but another
part of her knew that what happened to his body when he was close
to her was natural. She’d been doing some reading. That he
responded to her in such a way meant that he found her
attractive—-a possibility she’d never considered before. It left
her feeling anxious, confused, but somehow hopeful.

"Can I have my bed back?" Brinn sniffed
through self-conscious tears and then she smiled as Justin
laughed.

"Of course you can. I offered it to you last
night but you refused." He looked down into her face, his
infectious expression of warmth and teasing making her smile
widen.

"I wanted to stay awake. I wasn't sure what
you might do if I fell asleep." She yawned deeply.

"I'm sorry; I should have known. You’re safe
with me," he whispered over the top of her head and brought his
hands to her back, tracing a cluster of small pock marks on the
back of one shoulder. She flinched as he ran his fingers over the
spot. Stifling the question that hung in the air, he added instead,
"You take the bed and I'll sleep on the floor by the fire."

Brinn pulled back to peer up into wide eyes,
golden brown in the firelight. The white line of a thin scar
intersected his dark brow, and another small faded mark sat high on
his cheekbone below his right eye. His nose angled slightly off
center. The scars were old and weren’t noticeable from farther
away, but up close like this, they were clearly visible. They
didn’t detract from his handsome features, however. Instead, they
added a wisdom and understanding to his face that made his eyes
wells of compassion. Looking into them was like falling into a deep
pool, a sense, not of drowning, but of diving downward, as if she
wanted to go deeper, only she was afraid she couldn't hold her
breath long enough to make it back to the sunlit surface.

She rested her palms on his chest, which she
noticed moved in and out a bit faster than usual. His heart pounded
a thundering rhythm beneath her hands. She didn't want to let him
go. She liked his arms around her—this idea of being held, not
taken.

"Justin, since you’re leaving tomorrow, do
you think you could...would you mind...holding me while I sleep?"
Starved for touch and security for so long, the thought of
snuggling in the warmth of his embrace brought a startling sense of
need and rightness surging to the forefront. When his smile
widened, peace washed over her, carrying away the last of the
lingering apprehension.

He lifted her chin so their eyes met. "It
would be an honor."

∞∞∞

Brinn lay awake for a long time, listening to
Justin's breathing and feeling the warmth of it on her cheek. With
her back to him, he seemed to have naturally enveloped her, the
firm curves of his body outlining hers perfectly, his arms loosely
wrapped around her like a sheltering cocoon. To her relief, any
sign of stiffness in his male parts had disappeared. She relaxed
into him. Everything about him felt raw and new. The scent of him
compelled her to draw in deep breaths, memorizing the sweet, earthy
aroma of his unique marker. She wanted to wrap herself in it and
remember it when he was gone. It was the smell of safety,
protection, and home. She drifted into sleep.

She was running across a field, trying to get
away: away from the dark, away from the smell of blood, away from
the crawling of her skin. But she couldn't run fast enough. Her
legs felt heavy as if she carried a bag of rocks on her back. She
tried to get them off, but they clung like rough hands, pulling her
down under their weight.

She struggled and screamed, thrashing until
she came fully awake in Justin's arms, his voice calm and soothing
in her ear.

"Brinn, it's all right. I'm here. You’re
okay. No one is going to hurt you. You're safe." His words stroked
along her spine, mimicking the movement of his hands on her hair
and cheek.

Her face was wet with tears, but the numbing
coldness of fear spilled out around her like an icy cloak. She
shook as Justin held her, his warm embrace tethering her to the
light. His touch kept the darkness from taking her. As he continued
with soft assurances, his gentle strength poured out. He held her
until she crumbled into his arms completely. She buried her face in
his shirt and wept until the darkness of night gave way to the
dawn.

Saying Good-bye

Brinn wrapped the crux of the homemade crutch
with rags, creating a padded surface for Justin to lean on. It took
them half the next day to reach a trail that opened to clear views
of the valley far below. Together, they made their way through the
dense forest and down the steep slopes of the endless mountains.
The going was arduous as Justin limped along behind Brinn, who made
sure they stopped for frequent rests.

Neither had slept much the night before and
fatigue showed on both their faces, he knew. Brinn never spoke
about her dream or what had made her shake and sob through the
night, and Justin couldn’t bring himself to ask. All he did was
hold her tight and feel her pain. The intensity of it shook him to
the core. It was a night he wouldn’t forget.

When they reached an opening in the thick
foliage where he could look out over the mountains, he recognized
Brasstown Bald only a few peaks away, the smaller Blood Mountain in
its wake. Taking note of rock formations and peculiar features, he
wondered if he could ever find the little cabin again on his own.
There were hundreds of thousands of acres of wilderness in the
Smokies and Blue Ridge ranges, areas that weren't patrolled
regularly or even hunted in because of the difficult terrain. But
he’d spent enough time in the woods to have a few tricks of his
own. The wet boulders and constant moisture in the air suggested
that he must be in the Northeast section of the park in the cloud
forest of the Chattahoochee National Reserve. He’d studied the maps
several times before venturing off the marked trails on his own to
catch the most unusual of natural sites for his magazine. He smiled
at the memory of his first encounter with Brinn and the awesome
photos he’d captured.

They hiked on in silence, listening to the
chatter of chipmunks, the chirp of the chickadees, and the whistle
of the breeze that danced along the ridge.

As Justin struggled to gain his footing along
the steep descent, his ankle throbbed from the effort. Yet the
waif-like girl ahead of him negotiated slippery slopes and
overgrown pathways like a mountain goat. Her long legs were
muscular and strong. She wore the same pair of cutoff cargo pants
and the flowered halter he'd seen her in the first day by the
creek. Some new clothing for her would be first on his list of
supplies he would bring when he came back.