the sooner we can eat,’ Kyle wasn't prepared to give an inch. ‘I'll make up the fire, you can change here,’ he added impatiently as she made no effort to move while he stood there watching her, striding across the room to begin throwing logs on the fire, his back firmly turned towards her, rigid with displeasure.
‘Er—–'
‘What is it now?’ His impatience was coming to boiling point as he turned to glare at her.
‘The bathroom,’ she explained reluctantly, embarrassed at having to ask him about something so personal.
‘There isn't one,’ he derided.
‘I know that,’ she flushed as he deliberately misunderstood her. God, she wasn't stupid enough to think there would actually be a bathroom out here! ‘I don't want a bath, I'm asking where the—–'
‘It's outside,’ he finally took pity on her discomfort. ‘At the side of the cabin. This place wasn't built to be used as a winter home,’ he told her without apology for the fact that she had to go out in the cold once again. ‘It's used for a few weeks in the spring and summer, there's no reason to have the bathroom inside. The food is kept in stock here just in case,’ he added grimly.
‘In case some irresponsible woman goes and gets herself lost,’ Shelby finished tersely, knowing that was what he had been implying.
‘Exactly,’ he nodded abruptly. ‘Take one of the lamps with you,’ he instructed. ‘I'd hate you to wander off and get lost again.'
She bit back the angry retort that hovered on the edge of her lips, knowing that anything she had to say would only give him the opportunity to make yet another blistering condemnation of her. Besides, her very real need for the bathroom was more important at the moment, and after pulling on her hat, jacket and gloves she picked up the lamp to leave.
‘It's to the right,’ Kyle suddenly told her, when he had appeared to be taking no notice of her.
Shelby flashed him a grateful look, almost knocked back inside by the freezing cold wind that hit her as soon as she opened the door. The snow may have stopped falling for the moment but the wind howled on like a demented demon, driving her back as she fought her way to the small wooden building next to the cabin. By the time she had battled her way there and then back again she was beginning to wonder if it was worth it, feeling more exhausted than ever.
Kyle was still sitting where she had left him when she turned from forcing the door closed, although he frowned as he looked up at her. ‘Did you fall?’ he rasped, standing up.
The way he was moving towards her made her back up against the door, her eyes wide.
‘For God's sake,’ he bit out harshly. ‘I'm not so desperate that I would resort to forcing myself on a woman who, at the moment, resembles the attractions of a drowned rat!’ His eyes glittered dangerously. ‘You have a cut on your head, I merely wanted to take a look at it.'
Shelby felt very young and very stupid at that moment. Which was ridiculous! She was a very capable and successful busineswoman in London, her age and widowed status precluding her being young. But she would be the first to admit that she was out of her element in this situation, that although she disliked Kyle Whitney intensely, hated the way he constantly reminded her how stupid she had been to get lost in the way that she had, she was very grateful that he was here. But she knew he didn't feel the same way, that he didn't find her in the least attractive, as she didn't him, but her nerves were at such a taut pitch her recoil from him had been instinctive rather than intentional.
‘I'm sorry,’ she muttered as he examined her right temple with surprisingly gentle fingers. ‘And I think I probably got that when I fell into the cabin earlier.'
His mouth twisted with derision where it was on a level with her eyes, but the scathing comment she had been expecting didn't come. Instead he concentrated on the cut. ‘It doesn't look too bad, although the skin is broken. I'll clean it up for you once you have those wet clothes off.’ He stepped back.
She hadn't realised just how close he was standing until the warmth of his body was removed, feeling a sudden shiver through her body. ‘Get undressed,’ Kyle mistook the shiver for one of cold, turning back to the fire to give her what privacy he could in the close confines of the cabin.
Her clothes clung to her damply as she peeled them off, making the task doubly difficult, the cold seeming to have seeped into her very bones, the blanket she wrapped around her sarong-wise saving her modesty but giving little real warmth. It was also rough and abrasive against her skin. And she didn't even have a brush for her hair. Reaction suddenly began to set in, and she sat down heavily on one of the beds as the tears cascaded down her cheeks.
Everything had seemed so wonderful until today. She couldn't have been happier, was marrying the man she loved; Kenny had even decided they should live in London after the wedding, dispelling her worries about the salon. Now she had got lost in the snow, had been told Kenny no longer wanted to marry her, and was stranded in a primitive cabin with no clothes but what she had been wearing, with a man who made no attempt to hide the fact that he despised her.
It was all too much, too sudden, and the tears fell unchecked, the sound of her sobbing finally causing Kyle to turn and look at her. ‘What the—–!’ He was across the room in two strides, sitting down beside her on the bed, pulling her into his arms, her face buried against his chest. ‘What is it, Shelby?’ he asked gruffly. ‘Tell me what's wrong?'
The man must be an insensitive clod if he didn't know. ‘Everything,’ she sniffed miserably.
‘Hey, we'll be all right. We'll be out of here in a few days, and then—–'
‘A few days!’ she wailed, crying harder than ever.
‘I'll see that you don't starve.’ He mocked the appetite the mountain air had given her the last weeks, having eaten as much as any man.
‘It isn't that,’ she choked, seeming to have trouble stopping the tears now that they had started.
‘Then what is it?’ His voice hardened. ‘Are you afraid you won't be able to survive here without the—companionship, my cousin has been providing?'
The insult was completely unwarranted, and her tears dried immediately. ‘For your information, Mr Whitney,’ she said icily, pushing him away from her, ‘I have slept alone every night since my arrival here.'
‘Why?'
‘W—why?’ she echoed in a puzzled voice. ‘I don't know what you mean.'
He shrugged. ‘Kenny would have been more than willing to share your bed. And I'm sure that some of my men wouldn't be averse to it either,’ he added mockingly.
She flushed her indignation, her near hysteria of a few moments ago all but forgotten. ‘You keep referring to them as “your” men in that arrogant way,’ she snapped to hide how deeply he had wounded her with his assumption. She had heard all the old clichés about young widows since her husband had died, the most popular crudely being ‘once you've had it you can't do without it', but she had only ever had one lover in her life, and that had been Gavin. She hadn't been in any hurry to replace him on the intimate side of her life, and not being a very sensual person herself she hadn't found that too difficult. Unlike some people, she didn't believe life, and happiness, revolved around the physical.
Kyle raised
