and she actually fell inside the cabin.
It was very dark inside, too dark to see if it had any occupants, and Shelby looked into the gloom warily. She may have got herself into a worse situation than before! ‘Er—Hello?’ Her voice came out quivering with uncertainty, all of the self-confidence she possessed as the owner of O'Neal's, a women's salon in London, seeming to have deserted her in the face of this previously unthinkable danger.
When she realised there was going to be no reply to her tentative query, not even a stirring of movement inside, she knew there was no occupant, her breath leaving her with a relieved sigh. A sigh that was quickly followed by deep-rooted panic. If there was no occupant of the cabin then she was still alone, with no way of knowing where she was or if she would ever get out of here alive.
But at least she was alive now, and with shelter from the harshness of the wind and snow she could remain that way for a time. Perhaps there would even be the makings of a fire to keep her warm tonight, and tomorrow—Tomorrow Kenny would find her, she was sure of it.
She stumbled inside, closing the door—and the icy cold wind—behind her. It was dark inside, so dark she couldn't make out her surroundings at all. God, if only she smoked, then she would at least have had a lighter or matches in the pocket of the jacket that had so far proved useless. But she didn't smoke, and so consequently she didn't have any matches, only an instinct that told her the fireplace would be directly across from the door if there were one. And surely any self-respecting owner of such a remote cabin would leave matches on the mantelshelf? It was all she could hope for.
The cabin proved to be wider across than she had imagined, although the fireplace was there, and miraculously, so were the matches! Her hands trembled as she ripped off her gloves and struck one of the precious matches, looking around in wonder at the well-stocked and provisioned cabin. Whoever it belonged to couldn't be that far away, possibly just in the nearest town for a few days’ shopping and seeing friends. Whoever he was she felt grateful to him, would leave a note of explanation and reimbursement for anything she used.
One thing she had discovered on that cursory look around the cabin were some old-fashioned oil-lamps, and she lit one of them with her next match, grateful for its cheering warmth as she took stock of her surroundings. There was certainly no luxury to be found here, but there was the fireplace that would soon warm her, and a wood-burning stove that she would be able to use to heat up food and water on. She had never camped out in her life, never stayed anywhere this primitive before, but she had a feeling she was going to be plunged in at the deep-end, that she had to learn, and quickly, if she were to survive. It wasn't even night yet, only early evening, and the temperature that was already more severe than anything she had ever known before could get even lower during the night hours, making her first priority the lighting of a fire.
She was sure it wasn't the best fire anyone had ever built, and the stove threw more smoke out into the room at first than went up the chimney, but she soon fixed that by adjusting the door so that it fit into place better, and the fire threw out enough heat for her to be able to remove her jacket and take stock of the rest of the room.
For the cabin was only one room, well-planned to give the maximum amount of space, but still only one room for eating, sitting and sleeping. Four bunk beds, two on each side of the room, one above the other, stood at one end, a small sitting and eating area in the middle, and the wood-burning stove at the other end to cook on. But the furniture looked clean and serviceable, the scatter-rugs on the floor giving it a homely touch. Rustic charm, her London friends would have said it had, although they would have expected plumbing and electricity to go along with that charm. Shelby was sure it didn't have the latter, and it didn't seem to have plumbing either. But at least she was safe from the blizzard, the inevitability of dying fading as the warmth increased in the room.
Quite when the noises outside began to bother her she didn't know, but halfway through drinking the soup she had heated she suddenly had the impulse to lock and bolt the door. The noises were only the ones of the storm, she knew that, the wind and the swaying creak of the surrounding trees, and yet the feeling persisted, so much so that in the end she did lock and bolt the door just to settle her own mind. It wasn't just the human factor that frightened her, it was the wildlife too. A Londoner born and raised, she hadn't even seen a real live cow until she was ten years old, and then only because the school had taken them on a trip to a farm for the day. Kenny had told her they had deer and other small harmless animals in the thousands of acres of valley and mountains that was the Double K ranch, but she hadn't thought to ask if they had bears too.
Every noise outside now seemed to take on frightening proportions, and she jumped nervously as a branch of a tree crashed against the window. But was it a tree? It could be a bear, or a wolf! She had read books and seen films where people had gone insane as a creature of the night stood watch outside cabins like this.
Was that what she was doing? Surely she was made of sterner stuff than that? She had lived through, and survived so much the last few years, surely she was strong enough not to crack up at the sound of natural forest noises?
But were they natural? She could have sworn she heard something moving about outside just now, and not just the random noises of the wind and trees but a definite pattern around the cabin. Her hands tightened about the mug that contained her soup, her eyes wide with fear as she looked towards the door expectantly.
The first rattle of the door frightened her so much the mug of soup dropped out of her hand, and she stood up to back against the wall as it rattled once again, an eerie sound, much like a growl, accompanying it this time. God, there was a wild animal out there, and it sounded as if it were going to break in at any moment!
Shelby had never been so terrified, listening as the predator moved away from the door to circle the cabin once more. Her heart rose in her throat as she saw the furry face at the window, her breathing seeming to stop altogether as a hairy paw struck the window pane, the eerie growl accompanying the fierce tapping movement.
The window! God, she had locked and bolted the door and forgotten to shutter the windows! As she hurried to do so the face appeared at the window again, and she stepped back with a scream, her hands shaking so badly now she was incapable of closing the shutters even if she had wanted to. She watched the door with horrified fascination as the creature outside began to pound against the wood, sure that the bolts and lock would give at any moment, splinters already starting to break away from the top bolt.
She huddled down in the corner of the farthest bunk bed. Suddenly there was an ear-splitting splintering of wood, and the door banged open with such ferocity Shelby couldn't hold back her gasp of horror and fear.
Heavy fur framed the aggressive face, cold grey eyes turned on her in total assessment. ‘Why the hell didn't you open the goddamned door?’ Kyle Whitney grated in harsh condemnation, throwing back the furred hood of his thick jacket to reveal his overlong dark hair, snow-coated at the front of it.
Shelby only had time to recognise him before the faintness became a black fog and she fell backwards on the bed in total collapse, still unsure whether her unexpected visitor was a predator or friend…
She was still lying on the bunk bed when she woke up, although she had been moved into a more comfortable position, a heavy down quilt placed on top of her to keep her warm.
Her panicked gaze flew across the room, hardly daring to move as she once again recognised the harshly glowering profile of Kyle Whitney as he stared into the flames of the roaring fire. He looked more human now, the heavy jacket removed, the frozen snow that had clung to his face and hair now melted, leaving his hair curling damply against his forehead and ears, hair that although carelessly styled grew overlong to the dark sweater he wore. He was drinking what smelt like coffee, his narrow-eyed attention fixed sightlessly on the fire as he took huge swallows of the warming
