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Bridget bore it all in silence, even when he filled a bucket with warm water and washed her. She was still grappling with the horrible feeling that she’d been about to die.
She hadn’t noticed that he’d warmed one of the towels in front of the stove until he wrapped her in it and put her under the blanket.
She slipped her hand under her cheek and stared unseeingly into the shadows.
Adam gazed down at her for a long moment, then turned away to load the last of the wood into the stove. She had been extremely lucky, he thought to himself.
The strong PVC material of the rain jacket, even while it had actually become impaled on a sharp piece of wood and trapped her as much as the branch had, had also protected her from the debris. And the branch that had come down on her had had a slight bow in it, which had landed above her waist—thereby pinning her, but not crushing her. All the rocks that had come with it had miraculously missed her, although the other debris—leaves, twigs, grass and earth—had almost smothered her.
He looked down at himself. Once again he was a torn muddy mess, so he stripped, washed himself economically, then wound a towel round his waist. He doused the lamps, as the fire in the stove still roared and provided some light, and climbed into the bed beside her.
She didn’t resist when he pulled her gently into his arms. If anything she sighed with relief, and he felt her relax slowly.
Finally she said, as their bodies touched, ‘Thank you so much.’
‘It was my pleasure,’ he answered, with a wry twist to his lips. ‘Go to sleep if you can.’
She did drift into an uneasy slumber for a while, but then she woke, shaking and obviously distressed, and suffering a reaction.
‘Bridget—Bridget,’ he said softly. ‘You’re safe.’
But she moved jerkily in his arms.
‘Hey,’ he added, ‘it’s me—Adam. Your axeman and wood-chopper. Remember?’
Her green eyes focused slowly and she started to relax. ‘Oh, thank heavens,’ she breathed. ‘I thought I was out there again, with things falling down on me and suffocating me.’
‘No. I have you in my arms. We’re in bed in the shed—remember the shed?—and although the elements are playing havoc outside—’ he paused to grimace as another storm cell erupted overhead ‘—we’re warm and dry.’
But she grew anxious again. ‘Is that more thunder and lightning? When is it going to stop?’ she asked tearfully.
Adam studied her face in the dim light and felt that protective urge run through him again. She’d been through so much, and had borne most of it with a mixture of composure and humour, he thought. But how to comfort her now? More talk?
It came to him that there was only one way he wanted to comfort her—and the thought translated itself instinctively. He pulled her closer and ran his hands over her body.
She stilled, and her lips parted as her eyes grew uncertain, mirroring all her doubts. Was she dreaming again? And, if she wasn’t, was she going to be any good at this?
And Adam discovered he couldn’t help himself. He lowered his head to kiss her, with the express intention of not only comforting her but at the same time chasing away that look of uncertainty, proving to her she was infinitely desirable.
Bridget remained quite still in his arms for a long moment, then she seemed to melt against him and her lips parted softly beneath his.
Not only did she accept his kiss, but her senses flowered and brought her to a tingling awareness of his body against hers. And as that translated to a wave of desire for him, up and down the length of her, she felt soft and pliant. She felt as if none of her bruises or scrapes even existed, as if it would be the most natural, lovely thing in the world to open her legs and receive him.
And as all hell broke loose above them again, as thunder ricocheted around the ether and lightning flashed sparks of light through the old shed’s dirty, high windows, they came together in the timeless act of love. Because, as both were to think later, they just didn’t seem to have much say in the matter.
If anyone had told her how exquisite the act of love could be after her unhappy experience of it she would not have believed them. Not even when she’d felt herself come alive in that particular way in his arms had she expected such rapture.
The way he touched her breasts and teased her nipples was divinely thrilling. The way his fingers sought her warm, silken, most erotic spots almost took her breath away. And because he was extra-gentle, not only in deference to her scrapes and bruises, his final claiming of her and their subsequent climax was so different from what she’d known it was the most amazing, joyfilled revelation.
Most of all, the knowledge that she’d brought him equal pleasure was the cause of deep, deep satisfaction to her.
She was just about to tell him this when another huge crack tore the night air and the big old gum outside gave up its struggle to stay upright in the rain-sodden earth. With a crash, it cannoned down the hillside into the side of the shed.
They both moved convulsively, and Adam wrapped her securely in his arms. But although everything rattled, and a few things fell down, the shed withstood the impact.
‘How do you feel?’ he asked, after they’d waited with bated breath for more mayhem and none had come.
‘Wonderful,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve never felt like that before. I can’t believe it.’ Little lines of laughter creased beside her eyes. ‘I mean…’ She hesitated and changed tack. ‘How about you?’
An expression she couldn’t identify crossed his eyes. But it was with his lips quirking that he said, ‘Wonderful.’ He sobered. ‘Bridget—’
‘No.’ She put a finger to his lips. ‘I don’t want to dissect it. I just want to go on feeling wonderful.’
‘Then let’s see if we can get a bit of sleep. Comfortable?’
‘Mmm…’ she murmured drowsily.
They fell asleep in each other’s arms, until dawn filtered through the grimy shed windows and they heard a helicopter’s rotors beating overhead.
‘Bridget—’ Adam said, and stopped.
Here it comes, Bridget thought, the parting of the ways, the thing that had been on her mind ever since she’d woken in his arms and been flooded by the memory of their lovemaking.
She wore—they both wore—State Emergency Services orange coveralls. Hers were way too big for her—but far better to be hoisted into a helicopter in something that nearly smothered her rather than an old towel.
And they did have to be hoisted into the helicopter, because the ground was too soft and waterlogged for it to land. By contrast, however, it was a bright sunny day, the sky was a clear blue, and the drenching rain, howling winds and pyrotechnics of the night before were like a dream—of the nightmare variety.
They were still sitting in the helicopter. It had landed on a tarmac driveway, and they were waiting for an ambulance to transport Bridget to the Gold Coast Hospital for a check-up.
She’d strenuously objected to this, saying she was quite fine, but Adam had sided with the paramedic on the helicopter and she’d been effectively outvoted. She had been uplifted by the news that the family in the car that had been washed away after hers had also been rescued.
‘Bridget,’ Adam said for the third time, and put his hand over hers. ‘I’m not for you, and that’s—’
‘Not my fault but yours?’ she murmured huskily, in a parody of the old ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ explanation.
He grimaced. ‘Trite, but unfortunately true.’ He paused. ‘I’m lousy lover material, and I’d be terrible husband material.’
‘Lousy lover material?’ she whispered. ‘I have to beg to differ.’
He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. ‘You’re sweet, but it was just one of those things.’
Bridget considered. It had seemed to her, from the moment they’d woken to the sound of the rotors and both leapt out of bed, covering themselves with whatever they could find and racing out to flag down the helicopter, that they’d been tied to each other by an invisible string.
She reconsidered. As if they belonged to each other! But she’d certainly felt that, and could she have been so wrong?
She recalled the way he’d taken her back inside the shed and helped her into the voluminous coveralls, how they’d laughed a little together as she’d all but drowned in them. How he’d kissed her and told her it had to be an improvement on a horse rug.
Then they’d used a double harness to winch them up—he had seemed to know all about it, and also to know one of the crew—and she’d gone up in his arms.
He’d kissed her again when they were safely inside the helicopter, and she’d sat squashed up against him as it had risen and flown, squashed and in his arms, so her erratic heartbeats had normalised and she’d felt safe because they were his arms.
‘Will you ever get over the woman who left you for your brother?’
He looked down at her, and there was something like compassion in his eyes that hurt her very much.
‘I have got over her. It’s my brother—but it’s more than that. I’m far too old for you.’ He stilled her sudden movement. ‘In experience, in the kind of life I’ve lived, and in the far too many women I’ve loved. What you need is someone with no murky past, who can share an optimistic future with you.’
‘And if I don’t want—?’
‘Bridget,’ he cut in, and released her hand to wipe away the tears that sparkled on her lashes with his thumbs. ‘If there’s one thing you can take away with you, it’s this: you were gorgeous in bed, and don’t let any guy with an oversize ego tell you otherwise. You be selective, now, and make sure you give the men who are not good enough for you the flick.’ He brushed away another tear and picked up her hand as his lips quirked. ‘Incidentally, I’m one of those.’
‘But I loved being in bed with you,’ she whispered brokenly.
‘There’s a lot more to it than that.’ He turned his head as an ambulance drove up and parked beside the helicopter. ‘Your limo has arrived, Mrs Smith.’ He raised her hand and kissed her knuckles again. ‘So it’s time to say goodbye. Take this with you.’
He rummaged in a seat pocket until he came up with a pencil and piece of paper, upon which he wrote a telephone number.
‘If you need me, Bridget—’ his eyes were completely serious now ‘—in case of any unplanned…consequences, this number will always get a message to me.’
Bridget took the piece of paper, but she couldn’t see what was written on it. Her eyes were blurred with tears. Then it came to her that there were two ways she could do this. As a tearful wreck, or…
‘And if you need me,’ she said, dashing at her eyes as she raised her hand beneath his to kiss his knuckles, ‘you know where to find me.’
They stared into each other’s eyes until he said, very quietly, ‘Go, Bridget.’ His expression changed to harsh and controlled as a nerve flickered in his jaw, and he added, ‘Before you live to regret it.’
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