Castles in the Air Read Online Free PDF Page A

strong.
    “Are you thirsty?” he asked.
    She nodded, and marvelled at him. How strangehe was. Unlike any other man she’d ever met, he seemed to have his desires under control.
    “I’ll heat more wine.” Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes.
    His gloves had no fingers. His dexterity was greater, but the gloves had not been knitted in that manner. He’d cut them, and the gloves had suffered in the wearing. Perversely, that made her cast her fear aside. “No more wine,” she said with parched tongue. “Water, I beg you.”
    He rose. “I’ll collect the snow that has blown in around the door.”
    While he mounded his cooking pot full, she asked, “Is it morn?”
    He pawed the ashes away from the still-glowing embers, arranged kindling and logs, and blew until the wood lit. “Perhaps. The snow piles so deep around the hut we are—” He hesitated.
    “Buried?”
    “Snowed in,” he said.
    She pointed at the ceiling where the smoke whirled before escaping. “Not completely buried, but I think I detect a warmth that comes with a snowbank’s protection.”
    “Warmth?” He grinned, a wry twist of his lips. “Warmth is an exaggeration, I believe.”
    As he turned and handed her a cup of chilly water, she remembered that the covers which had kept her warm last night had been denied to him. His kindness nagged at her; she didn’t wish to be indebted to him. She drank the cup dry, then, brisk as a mother hen, she said, “Here.” Swinging her legs down, she plucked the wool blanket from atop the bed and swung it around his shoulders.
    He huddled into the blanket, and, as she stood close, she could see the blue tinge to his skin. She said, “Sit there, and I’ll cook us a warm meal. What food have you?”
    “I’ve a loaf of bread I bought in the village.”
    “I’ll toast it.”
    “And some cheese, some oats, some onions, some dried meat, some dried peas, some dried fruit, some ale—”
    She held up her hand. “Toasted bread should be enough.” He looked up at her with big, wounded eyes, and she yielded. “But I’m hungry enough to eat a stag. Perhaps some oats with stewed fruit, also.”
    “Is that all?” He sighed.
    His shoulders drooped in the exaggerated imitation of a child, and that pretense sat so ill on his massive frame that she laughed. The bubble of amusement startled her. How long had it been since she’d smiled? Too long, for it felt too odd and a little like a surrender. Turning to his gear on the table, she picked up his bags. “Is the food here, or—”
    He plucked the bags out of her hand before she could open them, and pushed her toward the shelves against the wall. “There are my own supplies and the supplies left for those too weary to wander farther.”
    “Shall we be snowed in indefinitely? I mean, should we be cautious about our supplies?”
    “I fancy the wind lessens. If it ceases, I’ll try to force the door.”
    “Would you?” She clasped her hands prayerfully. “I would give anything to be safe behind my walls.”
    “Safe? From what do you seek to be safe?”
    From someone like you, she wanted to say, but she hadn’t the courage. Her gaze slipped away from his;she found herself staring at the row of neatly arranged jars and bags.
    His sardonic voice drawled, “With a snowdrift as your castle and a man such as I as your champion, you’re as safe as is possible.”
    “Of course. I didn’t mean…” She stole a glance at him. Most definitely, this was a man who had faced misfortune. He was beautiful, aye, but not in the first bloom of his youth. The stubble of his beard grew black and thick on his chin, and his tanned skin showed signs of a relentless sun. Responsibility had marked him with tiny wrinkles around his eyes, and as he watched the flames, his mouth drooped.
    She could handle this man, if only she’d take herself in hand and stop blundering about. Keep the conversation impersonal, talk about things men like to talk about, subtly probe into his background.