the force of a gunshot going off. Niall snagged Birch around the waist on his way by just as the huge boulder crashed to the floor, setting off a dust-billowing landslide when a large portion of the wall came down with it.
“Tabernacle!”
Birch yelped. “You nearly brought the house down on us!”
She didn’t know where the man found the strength, considering his entire body was quivering from the strain he’d just put it through, but he hugged her so tightly she actually squeaked—not that he heard it over his laughter. “Aye, but we’re free,” he said, just before he kissed her.
He honest to God was kissing her! And not just a peck, either, but taking advantage of the fact that she’d opened her mouth to give him hell. Birch was trying to decide how to respond when he just as suddenly stepped away, the kiss-stealing jerk apparently not feeling the situation was urgent enough to get all slow and quiet.
She was going to have to watch her cussing around him.
“Come on,” he said, leading her over to the gaping hole. “Mind the broken glass,” he added as he lifted her onto the pile of debris.
Propelled by a large hand on her backside—giving her a suspiciously lecherous
pat
more than a push—Birch scrambled up onto the lawn, his laughter drowning out her gasp. She’d barely made it to her feet when Shep came charging out behind her, and she was just wiping her hands on her borrowed jeans when Niall grabbed one of them and started toward the front of the house.
“I need ye to call Nicholas and explain what’s happening and how to get here,” he said, reaching in his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. “When he arrives, point him up the mountain.” He stopped when they reached the porch and handed her the phone. “His number is programmed in, so after ye call Nicholas, call your mum and let her know you’re okay,” he added, sitting her down on the steps.
Birch popped back up the moment he stepped away. “I’m going with you,” she said, shoving the phone at him. “You can call Nicholas on our way.”
“You’ll slow me down.”
“I’ll keep up.”
“Your boots are soaked through and your feet will be blistered in minutes.”
“If I fall behind, you can keep going and I’ll catch up,” she shot back, shoving his phone in her pocket when he didn’t take it and bolting toward the woods. “I need to be there for Misty and Sally.”
She was pulled to a halt within two strides, and he grasped her shoulders again, then simply stood staring at her. “Hell,” he suddenly muttered, leading her back to the house. “Go inside and find some boots,” he said over her heated protest—which she stopped when his words sank in. “And get your jacket.”
Birch ran up two of the steps and turned to look him level in the eyes. “You’re going to take off the moment I go inside.”
He held out his hand. “I’m going to call Nicholas. Ye have two minutes.”
She in turn eyed him for several seconds, then slapped the phone in his hand, ran across the porch, and slammed through the door. She found footwear lined up under the coatrack in the kitchen and grabbed what she assumed were Sally’s garden boots—not that they had a speck of dirt on them.
Birch pulled a chair from the table and sat down, glanced out the open door to see Niall talking on the phone as he strode toward the barn, then unlaced her boots again. She kicked them off, squeezed her feet into the rubber pacs, and stomped them on as she went back to the pegs and grabbed her jacket. Glancing around the kitchen as she patted her pockets to make sure she had her phone and bear spray, Birch ran to the sink, found a glass in a nearby cupboard and filled it with water, then took a long drink. Then she refilled the glass, figuring Niall had probably lost a gallon of sweat digging them out of the cellar, and ran out to the porch.
Only when she got outside, the man was nowhere in sight. She ran to the barn and stopped just
“Tabernacle!”
Birch yelped. “You nearly brought the house down on us!”
She didn’t know where the man found the strength, considering his entire body was quivering from the strain he’d just put it through, but he hugged her so tightly she actually squeaked—not that he heard it over his laughter. “Aye, but we’re free,” he said, just before he kissed her.
He honest to God was kissing her! And not just a peck, either, but taking advantage of the fact that she’d opened her mouth to give him hell. Birch was trying to decide how to respond when he just as suddenly stepped away, the kiss-stealing jerk apparently not feeling the situation was urgent enough to get all slow and quiet.
She was going to have to watch her cussing around him.
“Come on,” he said, leading her over to the gaping hole. “Mind the broken glass,” he added as he lifted her onto the pile of debris.
Propelled by a large hand on her backside—giving her a suspiciously lecherous
pat
more than a push—Birch scrambled up onto the lawn, his laughter drowning out her gasp. She’d barely made it to her feet when Shep came charging out behind her, and she was just wiping her hands on her borrowed jeans when Niall grabbed one of them and started toward the front of the house.
“I need ye to call Nicholas and explain what’s happening and how to get here,” he said, reaching in his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. “When he arrives, point him up the mountain.” He stopped when they reached the porch and handed her the phone. “His number is programmed in, so after ye call Nicholas, call your mum and let her know you’re okay,” he added, sitting her down on the steps.
Birch popped back up the moment he stepped away. “I’m going with you,” she said, shoving the phone at him. “You can call Nicholas on our way.”
“You’ll slow me down.”
“I’ll keep up.”
“Your boots are soaked through and your feet will be blistered in minutes.”
“If I fall behind, you can keep going and I’ll catch up,” she shot back, shoving his phone in her pocket when he didn’t take it and bolting toward the woods. “I need to be there for Misty and Sally.”
She was pulled to a halt within two strides, and he grasped her shoulders again, then simply stood staring at her. “Hell,” he suddenly muttered, leading her back to the house. “Go inside and find some boots,” he said over her heated protest—which she stopped when his words sank in. “And get your jacket.”
Birch ran up two of the steps and turned to look him level in the eyes. “You’re going to take off the moment I go inside.”
He held out his hand. “I’m going to call Nicholas. Ye have two minutes.”
She in turn eyed him for several seconds, then slapped the phone in his hand, ran across the porch, and slammed through the door. She found footwear lined up under the coatrack in the kitchen and grabbed what she assumed were Sally’s garden boots—not that they had a speck of dirt on them.
Birch pulled a chair from the table and sat down, glanced out the open door to see Niall talking on the phone as he strode toward the barn, then unlaced her boots again. She kicked them off, squeezed her feet into the rubber pacs, and stomped them on as she went back to the pegs and grabbed her jacket. Glancing around the kitchen as she patted her pockets to make sure she had her phone and bear spray, Birch ran to the sink, found a glass in a nearby cupboard and filled it with water, then took a long drink. Then she refilled the glass, figuring Niall had probably lost a gallon of sweat digging them out of the cellar, and ran out to the porch.
Only when she got outside, the man was nowhere in sight. She ran to the barn and stopped just
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