Mountain Wild (Harlequin Historical Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

legs. His wet chaps and trousers fell to the floorin a heap. She slid her arms down to his bare waist, guiding him forward, helping him step out of the tangled clothing.
    Trembling beside her, Garret stared down at his naked form then glanced at her, a look of sheer confusion on his face.
    “This is no great thrill for me,” she said, and nearly laughed at the outright lie. Garret Daines in the buff, his muscles flexed and quivering, was a sight to behold. Long, lean, chiseled to perfection.
    A startling stir of new sensation shimmered inside her. Maggie forced her gaze up to the startling view of his bare chest.
    Good gracious. Heat flushed across her skin, and suddenly her damp clothes weren’t quite so chilling. She reached past him to pull back the quilts and buffalo hide covering her bed. Unnerved by her body’s reaction, she knocked him onto the feather-stuffed mattress and began pulling blankets over all that shivering brawn.
    His gruff voice sounded in a slur of words. He growled with frustration and grabbed her hand.
    Maggie froze, startled by his strong grip. His eyes burned with questions.
    “It’s the cold,” she said, pulling her fingers from his grasp and tucking his hand back beneath the covers. “Addles the mind for a time. You’ve just got to warm up.”
    As though she’d given the answer he needed, a sigh broke from his chest. His eyes drifted shut—which was how she preferred them, she decided. Unease swept through her at the thought of a fully conscious Garret Daines standing in her small cabin.
    Oh Lord. She hadn’t thought that far ahead…and tried not to think of it now. Wasn’t anything she could do—he was here, shivering in her bed. The wood frame creaked with his violent tremors.
    She stepped back. All she could do now was keep the fire stoked. His body needed to hold heat. She pulled her coat backon and grabbed her gloves from the table. She’d have to make sure the stovepipe atop the hillside hadn’t snowed over before she fetched an armload of wood.
    By the time she returned to the cabin, her teakettle was steaming and she was trembling nearly as much as the man curled up in her bed. She shut the door against a fierce wind, the storm having fully arrived. She fed the fire another log then took a cup from the shelves beside her stove and opened her tea canister.
    Exhausted, she dropped onto the only chair beside her narrow table with her tea and two shortbread cookies. Her shivers reminded her that her clothes were still damp. Taking a sip of tea to wash down the cookies, she told herself she needed to string a line to dry Garret’s clothes and start some stew. Her supply of meat needed to be thawed, cut and salted. She took another deep drink, the warm liquid soothing her chill. Completely worn-out, her mind and body balked at the idea of going back out into that storm to bring in the venison.
    She watched Garret shiver in her bed and his dog sleeping soundly beside the stove as she drank the last of her tea. Suddenly she could barely keep her eyes open. Her tea no longer warming her hands and her belly, the chill crept back into her skin. Her own clothes needed to dry out, and she needed warming. All her blankets were wrapped around Garret. Lying on his side, he left just enough room for her to squeeze in beside him. A couple hours to warm up and regain her strength and she’d be ready to dry his gear and start a stew.
    She lit the small lamp at the center of her table then dropped to her knees before her trunk at the end of her bed. Stacks of brightly embroidered shirts and dishcloths filled three quarters of the space—a winter’s worth of work. She didn’t have use for such colorful garb. Since Ira’s death, she bartered the fancy stitched dishcloths and clothing instead of animal pelts. She pulled out her flannel nightshirt and droppedthe lid. Changing into the dry garment she hung her damp clothes over the chair and placed it before the stove. She’d be needing her