Page 58

She decided if they wanted to pamper her, who was she to argue? It would keep them busy and give her time to sort out the emotions raging through her like a raging river. The idea sent a shiver through her.

No more cold water, she thought with distaste.

Peterson’s low growl of concern made her realize he had witnessed her shaking and pulling the blanket tighter. She gave him a reassuring smile and shook her head when he opened his mouth. Pampering was okay, but there needed to be a limit.

“I’m fine. I was just remembering how cold the river was,” she said. “That fish is beginning to smell delicious.”

Peterson looked down at the fish he had placed on a spit over the fire. “I found some salt and pepper in your supplies.”

“Right now, I’d probably eat it raw if I had to,” she confessed.

She averted her eyes when she saw the flash of anger in his. Van stepped close and held out a cup of hot tea. She took the cup, moaning with pleasure at the heat and tantalizing aroma of orange spice.

“Thank you again. I could get used to this. I don’t think my parents or grandparents ever spoiled me this much,” she teased, trying to ease the awkward tension she was suddenly feeling.

“Get used to it, because it is going to happen frequently,” Van said, sitting down beside her.

She swallowed before taking a sip of her tea. “Are you sure that the two shifters following me left?”

Peterson nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure. From the last place they stayed, I’d say they were probably out of food and not prepared for the weather to be so crappy.”

“Why do you say that? How can you know?” she asked.

Peterson touched his nose. “There was no scent of food or any remains and they bulldozed a path through the forest—at least the warthog did. It was hard to miss his scent. He was pretty ripe.”

She bit her lip and looked out over the forest. From their position on the rock ledge, she could see a pretty good distance down. The trees were swaying in the stiff wind.

“This fish is done,” Peterson said, placing the piece of fish skin-side down on a piece of bark. “Sorry about not having a real plate.”

She snorted out a laugh. “Until I ate at the compound, I’ve never eaten on a ‘real’ plate before. At least not the glass ones they had there.”

Her stomach growled as the delicate succulent aroma of the cooked trout rose from her plate. Van held out the spork she had brought with her supplies and she gingerly pulled a piece of the fresh meat off and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes closed as the flaky white meat melted over her tastebuds. A low groan of pleasure slipped from her and she gave up caution as her stomach demanded more.

“This is so good,” she moaned.

Both men chuckled at her obvious pleasure. She didn’t care. She had devoured almost a third of it before she realized no one was talking. Looking up, she felt her face warm at being the center of both men’s attention. She swallowed the piece of fish she was chewing and motioned at the two fish cooking over the fire.

Peterson picked up a piece of fish, placed it on another piece of bark, and held it out to Van before retrieving a piece for himself. Unease built inside her when he came and sat down on the other side of her. While her body was thrilled about being nestled between the two men, her mind was frantically sending her a warning that she was about to be in big trouble if she wasn’t careful.

“Now that you’ve had some rest, are feeling better, and have a little food in your stomach, perhaps you can answer a few questions that we’ve both been asking ourselves since you left,” Van said.

She warily glanced at him. “What sort of questions?”

“Like why you’ve been resistant to letting us court you,” Van replied.

“And what promise you made that was so important that you would risk your life to keep,” Peterson added.

She made a face, picked at her fish, and mumbled, “I must have been out of it if I told you about that.”

Pineminister Castle, Victoria, Canada

* * *

Isabella Wyland had been raised with too much discipline to curse, but she was very close to losing the precious grip on her temper. Once again, those she had hired had disappointed her. Turning, she shut the door to the den and twisted the lock. She did not want any interruptions or distractions as she laid out her next plan of action.

The phone call from Hyder’s business associate had been extremely disappointing. The call from Bishop had been short and tense. He did not have the same fortitude for discipline that Hyder had. That acknowledgement made her grimace. Perhaps she had been a bit overly optimistic when she left Hyder to deal with the mess he made.

Crossing the elegant, richly furnished room, she pulled her cellphone out of her pocket. The call she was about to make would be a difficult and humbling one, but it needed to be done. She pulled up the number that she had paid a considerable amount to secure, pursed her lips, and punched it in. The call was answered on the first ring.