Christine Dorsey - [MacQuaid 02] by My Heavenly Heart

wasn’t till he passed the border of hollies that he saw what the commotion was about.
    He waded into the water, mentally bracing himself against the cold and reached down, yanking her up by her shoulders. She was soaked and sputtering and nearly blue from the cold. “What the hell are you doing, Rachel?” Logan scooped her up without waiting for an answer. He strode toward the cabin, kicking open the door and settling his shivering bundle by the hearth.
    It was stone cold.
    Logan muttered an oath hot enough to sear Rachel’s ears, but that was the only part of her that was warm. “I told you to toss some logs on the fire before you came out.”
    He had, too. Rachel could clearly remember sitting in the chair earlier today as he spoke to her. He stood leaning against the door, one foot resting on a keg and he was telling her that he no longer intended to play her servant. “As long as you’re to be living here for a while you will earn your keep,” he’d said and Rachel had visions of him lying atop her, kissing her.
    But he quickly dispelled that notion before she could conjure up a decent degree of indignation. He wanted her to work... to do her share. She sat listening to him in disbelief, wondering just who he thought he was talking to as he listed several chores that were to be hers.
    “Keeping the fire going is partly your concern. I shall chop the wood, but you’re to throw logs on the flames when need be.”
    She said nothing.
    “And I think you can do the wash, too.”
    “I’m to be your servant then?” she asked with a lift of her chin.
    “Nay. We’ll work together. Now I’ll be in the barn. Make sure the fire’s going strong before you come out.”
    But of course she hadn’t and now she was freezing to death and all because the awful man made her wash his shirts. Rachel stood on the dirt floor, dripping wet and watched as he coaxed what was left of that morning’s fire back to life.
    “Grab up a fur and wrap it about you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “And I’d get out of those wet clothes if I were you. You’ll be coming down with a fever again.”
    He acted as if this were her fault, Rachel thought. She still stood where he put her, too taken with shivers to follow any of his directives. It wasn’t until he had flames licking around several logs that he glanced back again and then it was with a scowl on his face.
    “Can you do nothing for yourself then?” He pushed to his feet and approached, looking as if he did plan to play the part of lady’s maid again. Thoughts of him helping her out of her gown were enough to spur Rachel to action. She twisted away, scurrying behind the curtain he’d hung for her privacy. Her fingers felt like shards of ice as she tried to unfasten the hooks on her bodice.
    “I could have drowned, you know.” She had thought she was drowning... again.
    She could hear him moving about in the room. Could hear his amused chuckle. “I seriously doubt that Your Highness.”
    “I don’t swim.” Rachel managed to untie the tabs of her petticoat.
    “But I assume you can stand.”
    “Stand?”
    “Aye. Which is all ’twas necessary to rise above the water.”
    Rachel felt the heat of embarrassment seep up her neck. She was so agitated when the water closed in over her head, remembering the other time... the time she died... that she’d panicked. She stepped from behind the curtain wrapped from chin to toes in a fur blanket. She still shivered, but could feel a bit of warmth permeating the cabin.
    That is until she met his stare and noticed the chill of his light green eyes.
    He didn’t say anything but she could feel what he was thinking. Disappointment. In her. And a very real regret that he was forced to offer her hospitality until they visited the Cherokee town.
    Rachel took a deep breath and stepped closer to the flames. “I will attempt to be more diligent with the fire.” She slanted him a look up through her lashes, hoping to see an