stream.
Yesterday, Patrick told me not to go further than the stream.
I slow to a stop, looking around and seeing the castle behind me.
I should get back.
Just as I’m turning on my heel, I hear a CRACK! And then another.
Oh holy Jesus.
Gunshots.
35
I freeze, not sure what to do.
Should I turn and run back? Or should I stay where I am so I don’t fall into the line of fire?
Just as I’m thinking it over, I feel a heavy hand grab my shoulder, and hear a growling, deep voice.
‘Get DOWN!’
Oh my god. There’s no mistaking that voice.
I’m hauled backwa rds and fall onto Patrick’s hard chest. His arm comes around my body, pulling me back and down to my knees.
I turn to see the side of Patrick’s furious face, all br own stubble and hard, square lines, as he squats behind me.
He’s not looking at me, but into the distance, watching, watching … his breathing hard and fierce.
Suddenly, Patrick pushes me behind him, his arm holding me against his back. I’m pressed against his leather shotgun holder, watching his shoulders heave up and down.
‘Stay where you are,’ he barks.
He’s wearing a thin cotton t-shirt under an open camouflage jacket and the heat coming from his body is intense. He smells amazing – all musky and manly, with something clean and fresh and cool mixed in.
Patrick pulls the shotgun from his back, and cocks it, looking down the sight.
‘Don’t move,’ he growls, taking aim.
He follows something I can’t see with his gun, then takes a shot.
In the distance, there’s a crumpling sound and a human shout. Then I hear fast footsteps beating along the forest ground.
I gasp, putting my hand to my mouth. ‘Did you just —’
Patrick shakes his he ad. ‘I shot a branch. It exploded on the poacher out there. Hawk Turner again. His visits are becoming more frequent. The branch won’t do him any serious harm. But hopefully that bastard will think twice about coming back.’
His breathing is still fast, but I fe el it steadying. He turns to me, his eyes furious.
‘I told you not to go past the str eam.’
‘I didn’t mean to ,’ I say, feeling embarrassingly tearful. My insides are all shaken up, and I’m a little in shock. Both about wandering into poacher land, and Patrick appearing to save me. ‘It was a mistake.’
‘A bloody stupid mistake ,’ says Patrick, slotting his gun back into the holder. ‘Christ, you could have been hurt. Killed.’
He turns to me with those fierce eye, and to my huge embarrassment, I burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ I bleat out again. ‘I really didn’t mean to.’
Arg h! Get it together Sera, this is SOO embarrassing.
But try as I might, I can’t seem to stop the tears coming. I snuffle and wipe at my face, taking gaping, gasping breathes.
I think I’m just in shock. Hearing that gunshot … seeing Patrick out here …
Patrick’s eyes soften, and he puts a hand to my cheek. ‘Don’t cry.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I sniff le. ‘I don’t know why I am.’
Patrick’s forehead crumples up.
He brushes away my tears with his fingers, and I begin to s hake – both from shock and Patrick’s touch.
‘Here.’ Patrick takes off his coat and wraps it around me. ‘Take this.’
He stands and lifts me clean off the ground, me still snuffling and wiping tears from my face. Then he carries me through the trees.
‘How did you find me out here?’ I ask, my voice soft with tears.
‘You’re not the most difficult person to track,’ says Patrick.
That makes me smile a little, and the tears stop flowing. ‘Track?’
‘Yes, track .’
‘And how did you know to track me just then?’ I ask. ‘How did you know I’d end up in the wrong part of the woods?’
‘ You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said so far. So as soon as I saw you running into the woods, I guessed that you’d end up crossing the stream.’
‘I really didn’t mean to,’ I say. ‘The stream was frozen. It didn’t look like a
Yesterday, Patrick told me not to go further than the stream.
I slow to a stop, looking around and seeing the castle behind me.
I should get back.
Just as I’m turning on my heel, I hear a CRACK! And then another.
Oh holy Jesus.
Gunshots.
35
I freeze, not sure what to do.
Should I turn and run back? Or should I stay where I am so I don’t fall into the line of fire?
Just as I’m thinking it over, I feel a heavy hand grab my shoulder, and hear a growling, deep voice.
‘Get DOWN!’
Oh my god. There’s no mistaking that voice.
I’m hauled backwa rds and fall onto Patrick’s hard chest. His arm comes around my body, pulling me back and down to my knees.
I turn to see the side of Patrick’s furious face, all br own stubble and hard, square lines, as he squats behind me.
He’s not looking at me, but into the distance, watching, watching … his breathing hard and fierce.
Suddenly, Patrick pushes me behind him, his arm holding me against his back. I’m pressed against his leather shotgun holder, watching his shoulders heave up and down.
‘Stay where you are,’ he barks.
He’s wearing a thin cotton t-shirt under an open camouflage jacket and the heat coming from his body is intense. He smells amazing – all musky and manly, with something clean and fresh and cool mixed in.
Patrick pulls the shotgun from his back, and cocks it, looking down the sight.
‘Don’t move,’ he growls, taking aim.
He follows something I can’t see with his gun, then takes a shot.
In the distance, there’s a crumpling sound and a human shout. Then I hear fast footsteps beating along the forest ground.
I gasp, putting my hand to my mouth. ‘Did you just —’
Patrick shakes his he ad. ‘I shot a branch. It exploded on the poacher out there. Hawk Turner again. His visits are becoming more frequent. The branch won’t do him any serious harm. But hopefully that bastard will think twice about coming back.’
His breathing is still fast, but I fe el it steadying. He turns to me, his eyes furious.
‘I told you not to go past the str eam.’
‘I didn’t mean to ,’ I say, feeling embarrassingly tearful. My insides are all shaken up, and I’m a little in shock. Both about wandering into poacher land, and Patrick appearing to save me. ‘It was a mistake.’
‘A bloody stupid mistake ,’ says Patrick, slotting his gun back into the holder. ‘Christ, you could have been hurt. Killed.’
He turns to me with those fierce eye, and to my huge embarrassment, I burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ I bleat out again. ‘I really didn’t mean to.’
Arg h! Get it together Sera, this is SOO embarrassing.
But try as I might, I can’t seem to stop the tears coming. I snuffle and wipe at my face, taking gaping, gasping breathes.
I think I’m just in shock. Hearing that gunshot … seeing Patrick out here …
Patrick’s eyes soften, and he puts a hand to my cheek. ‘Don’t cry.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I sniff le. ‘I don’t know why I am.’
Patrick’s forehead crumples up.
He brushes away my tears with his fingers, and I begin to s hake – both from shock and Patrick’s touch.
‘Here.’ Patrick takes off his coat and wraps it around me. ‘Take this.’
He stands and lifts me clean off the ground, me still snuffling and wiping tears from my face. Then he carries me through the trees.
‘How did you find me out here?’ I ask, my voice soft with tears.
‘You’re not the most difficult person to track,’ says Patrick.
That makes me smile a little, and the tears stop flowing. ‘Track?’
‘Yes, track .’
‘And how did you know to track me just then?’ I ask. ‘How did you know I’d end up in the wrong part of the woods?’
‘ You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said so far. So as soon as I saw you running into the woods, I guessed that you’d end up crossing the stream.’
‘I really didn’t mean to,’ I say. ‘The stream was frozen. It didn’t look like a
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