Page 5 of Winter’s Heart (Three of Hearts #1)

They made it back to his hut forty-five minutes later, just as the dark engulfed the land, and he was nothing less than impressed by the woman behind him.

True to her word, she’d kept up with his punishing pace without even a grumble.

But as he opened the front door and ushered her in, she stumbled over the threshold and stood in the small mudroom panting and he knew she was just about done in.

He took one last penetrating look outside before he locked the door securely behind him and let out a gust of breath.

Safe. For now, at least. He felt better about this mission every minute, his confidence returning slowly.

This wasn’t the same as last week; the situation was completely different.

Jacob stood on his own turf now, not in an unfamiliar city where snipers hid around every corner.

He knew this country like the back of his hand, understood this land and her changing moods.

“You did great,” he told her, reaching a hand out to steady her shoulder as she swayed a little.

She merely flicked her blue gaze at him, hands hanging limply at her side, the normal acerbic comment missing.

Her face was pale, and she shivered. They both needed to get warm before hypothermia became a problem.

Even encased in warm hiking boots and a waterproof jacket, the temperature outside was glacial, and that was before the sun had set, when it’d plummeted even more.

It must be at least 20C below out there.

He was acclimatized, but she was a tourist, not used to these freezing temperatures.

Jacob had banked the fire in the little pot-belly stove and brought in a pile of wood before he left, so the hut should be warm, and he could get it roaring soon enough.

“Here, let me help you.” Slotting his gun in the shoulder holster he wore over his camo suit, he tugged off his gloves and dropped them on the floor, then helped to remove hers as well, reaching up and drawing down the zipper of her jacket.

She watched him, letting him handle her like she was a shop store dummy, exhaustion evident on her face.

But when he came to removing her backpack so he could slide the jacket down her arms, she snatched the bag away from him, giving him the hairy eyeball, as if she thought he might’ve been about to steal it.

“Are we safe now? Can I finally sit down?” she asked, voice rasping from exertion once he’d hung her jacket on a hook behind her.

They weren’t out of harm’s way yet, not by a long shot, but being back in his hut gave him comfort nonetheless.

This was his home ground, and he knew it like the back of his hand.

If anything happened, he was prepared for it here.

“For now,” he replied softly. “Come, sit down.” He pointed at the small pine bench built into the wall. “I’ll help you off with your boots.” He crouched down in front of her.

“My feet are cold,” she admitted, as he undid her laces. “Actually, they’ve been numb for the past half an hour.” He wasn’t really surprised, his were like frozen lumps, even inside his fur-lined Gore-Tex boots. “And my hands, too,” she added with a grimace.

He looked down and saw her fingers were bright red, resting stiffly in her lap.

Faan , she was showing early signs of frostbite.

Resisting the urge to grab her hands and chafe them together—the worst thing you could do if you suspected frostbite—he sandwiched them carefully between his to warm them.

Small and vulnerable inside his larger, calloused ones, he was surprised to feel a surge of…

what… protectiveness? Which was absurd; he’d only just met the woman.

She was right, though; they were like icicles. He needed to get them warm and soon.

Standing up, he stripped his own snowsuit off and left it in a white puddle of fabric on the floor, kicking off his boots as well.

Underneath, he wore thick, thermal, woolen leggings and a dark-blue fleece shirt.

Getting to his knees again, he lifted his shirt and gently took both her hands, placing them on his chest, flinching as her icy skin touched his.

She gasped and tried to draw away, but he held her firm and looked her straight in the eyes.

“It’s the best way to get them warm,” he chided softly.

“But I… but you…” Her blue eyes widened, and her fingers tensed against the wall of his pecs. Even though they were the temperature of an ice block, Jacob was still acutely aware of her fingertips, his skin crackling with an energy he’d never felt before, and he stilled beneath her touch.

He’d slept with many women over the years and even managed a couple of longer-term relationships.

His current lover, Freya, possessed considerable skills in the bedroom, and he’d enjoyed many an erotic night between the sheets.

But not once in any of his encounters with any of the women he’d been with had it ever felt as if they were burning a brand into his skin.

He wondered if Nikki was aware of it too.

Perhaps she was, because her gaze never left his, her bow lips slightly parted as if in question.

Tearing his gaze away, he covered the backs of her hands with his shirt, and said, “It’s okay. I’m used to the cold. Now let me get your boots off. Can you lift your foot into my lap?”

“Hmm?” She seemed a little dazed, so he leaned down as far as he could without dislodging her hands from his chest and grabbed her ankle, then lifted her boot into his lap to pull it off.

Her foot was dry, which was a good start, but when he gently peeled back her sock, he saw that her little toe was completely white and waxy, with the rest swollen and red.

Not good. Not good at all. This needed more than just his chest to warm them up.

If he didn’t do something soon, she might even lose that pinky toe.

He silently reproached himself for failing to check her boots before their ninety-minute hike in freezing temperatures.

Back at her hut, there’d been no time, and he’d had no choice but to force her outside in sub-standard clothing.

And she’d gone, not making the slightest fuss, not asking him to stop even once.

He glanced back up at her, deciding she was made of much tougher stuff than he’d given her credit for.