“Good,” he said gruffly. “You’re conscious.”
Her eyes were blurry. Her tongue slicked over her lips.
“Who…? Where…?”
Confusion was common in cases of hypothermia. You lived in these mountains, you made it a point to know these things.
Jesse sat down next to her, tried to look reassuring.
“You’re fine,” he said briskly. “You, ah, you passed out. The rain—”
She turned her head. Looked around her, then looked again at him.
“Blackwolf Mountain,” she said thickly. “The sacred stone—”
“Right.”
“The lightning.”
“Yes.”
“Rain,” she said. “And cold. So cold…”
A shudder went through her. Enough conversation. She wasn’t warm enough yet.
“Look,” Jesse started to say, “we can discuss this when—”
The kettle shrieked. She jumped like a doe taken down by a hunter’s bow.
“It’s the kettle, that’s all. I’ll make some tea. We can talk then. Okay?”
She didn’t answer. Her gaze was moving over him. He hadn’t had a shirt on when she’d first seen him and he didn’t have one on now, but it felt different, maybe because he knew she was almost naked beneath the duvet.
Maybe because she knew it, too.
Something was happening behind those violet eyes. It was like watching her watching a movie. Emotions swept over her face. Awareness. Fear. Terror.
“Ohmygod,” she said, “ohmygod…”
Enough. This was where he’d come in.
“Take it easy,” he said, his voice rough. “Just take it—”
The lights went out.
Just like that. Out. No blinking. No going off, coming on, then going off. One second, the lights were on. They next, the room went dark.
Dark? It was black as pitch.
That figured. It was midafternoon. They’d lost hours between getting down the mountain and the wild ride home, plus the raging storm had obliterated whatever had remained of daylight.
Hell.
He should have figured on the lights going out. The electric lines up this high were only marginally more reliable than the ones for the telephone.
Idiot that he was, the one thing he hadn’t installed when he built the house was a generator. He had one on order but it was a big job—it had to be specially built and it wouldn’t be ready for another few months.
Jesse blinked, waited for his eyes to acclimate to the darkness. His other senses had already gone on full alert. He could smell Sienna’s skin, that delicate lilac scent he’d noticed hours ago. And he could hear her teeth chattering.
Was she shaking again?
He reached out. Felt for her…
“Get away from me!”
“Listen, lady—”
He heard her scramble up against the pillows. She was breathing hard; the sound was raw. Just what he needed. Instant replay of what had happened an hour ago, right before she passed out.
“You’re using up energy,” he said coldly.
She didn’t answer.
Jesse stood, put his hands on his hips. Took a long breath. He had candles. A Coleman lantern. A Coleman stove. He also had a crazy woman on his hands, but maybe some light and hot food would bring her to her senses.
“Stay where you are,” he said brusquely. “I’ll be right back.”
It took him a few minutes to get the gas lantern and stove from where he stored his hunting and camping gear. Matches were easy; he grabbed a handful from a drawer in the kitchen. Got a fat candle from a cupboard and lit it.
“Okay,” he said, trying to sound cheerful as he used its wavering light to guide him back to the bedroom. “We’re all set—”
She was gone.
Gone? How? Where? Jesse turned on his heel, made a complete circle, the candle held out in front of him as he checked the big room. Maybe the woman wasn’t the only one who was crazy. Maybe he’d imagined her. Linda had all but accused him of being nuts.
What happened to you? she’d said. You’re a different man since you came back, Jesse. I’m afraid of you.
But no, he wasn’t crazy. His trespasser had been lying right there. The duvet was flung aside, the top sheet was missing, a strand of golden hair was on the black pillowcase.
Thunder shook the house.
“Miss Cummings?” Stupid. She was naked. He’d undressed her. What was the point of formalities? “Sienna? Sienna, where are you?”
Silence. He went to the door, checked the hall. There wasn’t a sign of her.
Another roar of thunder. Another flash of lightning. And there they were. Footprints, small, highly arched. A woman’s delicate prints, leading to his dressing room…
That was where he found her. At the far end of the oversized space, her back to the wall, the top sheet clutched to her chin.