Christine Dorsey - [MacQuaid 02] Read Online Free PDF Page B

that civilized people... never mind.”
    She paced the length of the cabin twice before grabbing hold of the latch and yanking open the door. Once outside she hurried on her way, shivering from the morning chill. Had it been this cold yesterday? Rachel couldn’t remember. But by the time she rushed back into the cabin her teeth were chattering.
    Maneuvering the only chair in the cabin closer to the fire took more effort than Rachel wished to expend, but for the sake of warmth, she did it. Then she settled down, spreading her skirts, and waited. She couldn’t exactly call the aroma wafting from the iron pot pleasant, but it did remind her that she was hungry. How long had it been since she ate? Rachel tried to recall but the memory became all tangled with Liz’s and Geoffrey’s deaths and the reason she was here.
    To save this worthless creature’s life.
    Which she had done... and not without considerable sacrifice, so why wasn’t she—
    Her question came to a sudden halt when the object of her lament pushed open the door. He glanced at her once, almost as if he were checking to see if she was still there, before leaning his rifle in its usual spot. He crossed to the hearth and gingerly picked up a metal plate that had grown hot from the fire. With a spoon he scooped some of the rabbit out of the pot. To his credit he looked up, silently offering her the plate.
    Rachel shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
    It was an obvious lie, but he simply shrugged and began to eat. She expected his manners to be deplorable... after all, he was, but he ate with some decorum, though he stood the entire time. It wasn’t until he was nearly finished that Rachel realized the reason. She sat in his chair.
    So be it. He was well served, having but one chair to his name. Rachel folded her arms and tried not to watch him scoop the last bit into his mouth. It wasn’t the fare she usually ate, but perhaps she could force herself to partake of a bite or two.
    He spooned more onto the plate and Rachel smiled, ready to ask for it. But before she could, he set the dish on the dirt floor. “Dog.” It only took that one word for the animal to lift his head, black nose sniffing the air. Before Rachel’s startled eyes the dog stretched, stood, loped over, and wolfed down her meal.
    Rachel jumped to her feet, but it went unnoticed. The man was already back through the door taking his gun and an axe with him. “How could you?” Rachel mumbled, fighting back tears for the first time since she’d... died.
    “Yes, yes, I know you are hungry,” she sniffed, “but so am I. And cold and...” Her brimming eyes glanced down at her gown. “And dirty. And I don’t know where I am, or why I’m here.” She sucked in her breath on a sob. “Or why I’m talking to a dog, for heaven’s sake.”
    But this time she received no response. The brutish animal just continued to push the pewter plate about with his nose and tongue, savoring every last bit of meat.
    Rachel plopped back into the chair, exasperated. She stayed there until a steady thumping from outside tore her attention away from her empty stomach. At first she tried to ignore the sound, but finally she stood, straightened her wig, and moved across the room to peek through the small window of what appeared to be oiled skin. She couldn’t see anything. In annoyance she turned to the door.
    The air was warmer now, though still chilly enough for Rachel to hug her arms. But then she wasn’t doing labor. The man was. He stood near the side of the cabin, his back to her, chopping wood.
    And he was naked to the waist.
    Rachel had thought him stout or at least prone to fleshiness. Now she realized it was the padding of skins that made him seem so. Without them he was not the least fleshy. He had broad shoulders and thick upper arms, especially when he hefted the axe, but his waist was trim, as were his hips. He didn’t look like any man she’d ever seen before, and not just because of his hair