one.
“I hope the pages are in a safer place than you are,” he said in a rough, deep, impatient tone.
Serena froze, wondering if she was hearing the voice of her grandmother’s murderer.
And her own.
Chapter 14
A re you all right?” Erik asked the woman whose back was to him as he pressed her into the cliff.
Serena made a stifled sound that could have meant anything.
“When you didn’t answer my call,” he said, “I thought you might have wandered off and gotten hurt. DG can be a real bastard to climb.”
With a wild shudder, air returned to Serena’s lungs. She breathed hard and deep until she trusted herself to say, “Who are you?”
“Erik North.”
“The manuscript appraiser?”
“Yes.”
Thank God. He wasn’t a stranger. Not exactly. Which meant that she was probably safe.
Probably.
Relief turned her bones to sand. She took a broken breath and sagged against the rock face without even noticing its rough surface.
Erik felt the difference in her, as though strings had snapped and she could barely hold herself upright. He tightened his grip and leaned into her, holding her upright with his own body.
She went rigid and would have fallen all over again if it hadn’t been for the hard length of the man pinning her to the rocks.
“Easy, Serena. I’ve got you.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” she asked through locked teeth.
He laughed. The puffs of air disturbed some of her soft, flyaway hair at the side of her face. He was so close that he could admire the burning shades of red and gold in her loose braid, sense her heat, feel each breath she took. He could all but taste her. If he wanted to do that, all he had to do was nose aside the unusual, quite beautiful, scarf she was wearing loosely around her neck.
The thought of doing just that appealed to him. He didn’t know which would be softer, the scarf or the luminous skin. He did know that he was going to find out. Soon.
Wryly Erik was glad that Serena wasn’t a mind reader; she would have been clawing away at the cliff again, trying to escape him. His climbing skills were up to the chase, but he wasn’t sure hers were. As he had pointed out, DG was treacherous stuff to climb on, especially if you were in a hurry.
“Can you stand, or did you turn your ankle?” he asked.
Odd sensations had rippled over her when his laughter stirred against her skin. At some elemental level, that laugh was familiar to her. That voice was familiar to her. Like the pages. Like the fabric that had slipped up her neck as though to protect her face from the cliff.
She knew this man.
The certainty was as shocking as feeling her footing give way had been a few moments before.
“Are you sure you’re Erik North?” she asked hoarsely.
“Positive.”
She didn’t know how to say that he didn’t fit her idea of an appraiser of medieval illuminated manuscripts and she didn’t want to say anything as stupid as Don’t I know you from somewhere? So she asked the question that had been bothering her since she first saw him. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to figure out if you can walk or if I’ll have to carry you.”
“You can’t. I’m too big.”
Laughter stirred against her neck again. The scarf lifted on a bit of breeze and floated back to brush over Erik’s lips. Smiling, he nuzzled the soft, clingy cloth in return.
“Niall is a lot bigger than you,” Erik said, “and I had to pack him out of the Santa Rosa Mountains once.”
“Niall?”
“Later. Or do you really want to exchange life histories while we cling to this rock pile by my fingernails?”
Without warning the granite beneath Erik’s left foot crumbled. His foot slid, searched, but didn’t find solid ground. He jammed his hands into cracks and crevices, clenched his fingers into fists, pinned Serena hard with his hips, and waited.
Nothing else gave way.
He probed cautiously with his left foot until he found a crevice that supported his weight.
“I hope the pages are in a safer place than you are,” he said in a rough, deep, impatient tone.
Serena froze, wondering if she was hearing the voice of her grandmother’s murderer.
And her own.
Chapter 14
A re you all right?” Erik asked the woman whose back was to him as he pressed her into the cliff.
Serena made a stifled sound that could have meant anything.
“When you didn’t answer my call,” he said, “I thought you might have wandered off and gotten hurt. DG can be a real bastard to climb.”
With a wild shudder, air returned to Serena’s lungs. She breathed hard and deep until she trusted herself to say, “Who are you?”
“Erik North.”
“The manuscript appraiser?”
“Yes.”
Thank God. He wasn’t a stranger. Not exactly. Which meant that she was probably safe.
Probably.
Relief turned her bones to sand. She took a broken breath and sagged against the rock face without even noticing its rough surface.
Erik felt the difference in her, as though strings had snapped and she could barely hold herself upright. He tightened his grip and leaned into her, holding her upright with his own body.
She went rigid and would have fallen all over again if it hadn’t been for the hard length of the man pinning her to the rocks.
“Easy, Serena. I’ve got you.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” she asked through locked teeth.
He laughed. The puffs of air disturbed some of her soft, flyaway hair at the side of her face. He was so close that he could admire the burning shades of red and gold in her loose braid, sense her heat, feel each breath she took. He could all but taste her. If he wanted to do that, all he had to do was nose aside the unusual, quite beautiful, scarf she was wearing loosely around her neck.
The thought of doing just that appealed to him. He didn’t know which would be softer, the scarf or the luminous skin. He did know that he was going to find out. Soon.
Wryly Erik was glad that Serena wasn’t a mind reader; she would have been clawing away at the cliff again, trying to escape him. His climbing skills were up to the chase, but he wasn’t sure hers were. As he had pointed out, DG was treacherous stuff to climb on, especially if you were in a hurry.
“Can you stand, or did you turn your ankle?” he asked.
Odd sensations had rippled over her when his laughter stirred against her skin. At some elemental level, that laugh was familiar to her. That voice was familiar to her. Like the pages. Like the fabric that had slipped up her neck as though to protect her face from the cliff.
She knew this man.
The certainty was as shocking as feeling her footing give way had been a few moments before.
“Are you sure you’re Erik North?” she asked hoarsely.
“Positive.”
She didn’t know how to say that he didn’t fit her idea of an appraiser of medieval illuminated manuscripts and she didn’t want to say anything as stupid as Don’t I know you from somewhere? So she asked the question that had been bothering her since she first saw him. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to figure out if you can walk or if I’ll have to carry you.”
“You can’t. I’m too big.”
Laughter stirred against her neck again. The scarf lifted on a bit of breeze and floated back to brush over Erik’s lips. Smiling, he nuzzled the soft, clingy cloth in return.
“Niall is a lot bigger than you,” Erik said, “and I had to pack him out of the Santa Rosa Mountains once.”
“Niall?”
“Later. Or do you really want to exchange life histories while we cling to this rock pile by my fingernails?”
Without warning the granite beneath Erik’s left foot crumbled. His foot slid, searched, but didn’t find solid ground. He jammed his hands into cracks and crevices, clenched his fingers into fists, pinned Serena hard with his hips, and waited.
Nothing else gave way.
He probed cautiously with his left foot until he found a crevice that supported his weight.
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