Free Captive of Fate by Lindsay McKenna Page B

children in the distance.
    “Where are we going?” she asked dully, not really caring because of utter exhaustion.
    “Home,” he murmured. “Sounds good, doesn’t it?” he mused softly, almost to himself.
    Alanna lifted her chin, trying to fathom the expression on his darkened features. There had been a momentary huskiness in his voice, almost a wistful note. “I thought you said we couldn’t get off the mountain.”
    “We can’t.” He slowed, flashing the beam of light in front of them to reveal a small tent. “This is ‘home’ for tonight. Come on, get those ruined shoes off your feet and take off the wet clothes you’re wearing. I’ve got some dry utilities and an extra pair of socks and boots you can wear.”
    A gasp came from her lips as she turned, facing him. “I can’t sleep here!”
    Matt grinned, cocking his head to one side and studying her with interest. “Sure you can.”
    “But…” she sputtered. “I mean—it’s too small for two people!”
    He walked to the tent, throwing up the small flap. “While you’re arguing the ethics of our situation, how about changing clothes? You’re shivering. Come on,” he coaxed.
    Alanna remained frozen to the spot, her eyes wide. She simply couldn’t sleep that close to him! The poignant memory of his kiss soared through her like a white-hot flame beckoning her to give in. Another equally panicky feeling replaced it. “Don’t you have two tents?” she asked hoarsely.
    Matt pulled out several utensils and cleared a small space for a fire. He squatted down, pushing the cap back off his head. Dark strands of hair dipped across his forehead as he concentrated his attention on the task of getting them some hot food. “Lady, you’re lucky I have one tent. Are you going to stand there all night shivering, or do I have to drag you in there and undress you?”
    Her heart leaped once at the velvet threat in his voice. Alanna had dealt with him long enough to know he meant it. Hastily she gathered up the briefcase and sloshed through the mud toward the tent. “I’ll do it,” she replied in a small voice.
    He nodded. “Now you’re being reasonable. By the time you’re changed, we ought to have a meal.”
    *
    Alanna watched him warily across the campfire as she dug hungrily into the food he had prepared. A light rain began to fall just as they finished. She dejectedly scratched the idea of sleeping outside and letting him have the tent. Her nerves fairly screamed with tension at the thought of being so close to him in such confining quarters.
    “I’ll clean up, Alanna. You take the sleeping bag on the right. I’d suggest you strip down to a shirt and socks for the night.”
    “What?”
    Matt looked up, a wry smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think you’ll sleep comfortably in combat boots. Do you?”
    She had the good grace to blush, scrambling awkwardly to her feet. The olive drab shirt and trousers were many sizes too large, and she looked like a lost waif within them. Clenching her hands at her sides, she had enough courage to blurt out, “Does our sleeping arrangement still stand?”
    His gray eyes darkened slightly. “That’s up to you,” he answered, his voice a soft, rough whisper.
    Pursing her lips, she muttered, “Separate corners. Just like base camp.”
    He shrugged, laughter in his tone. “Anything you want, Alanna. I don’t need a sleepy, cranky woman on my hands tomorrow. So let’s get a good night’s sleep for both our sakes.”
    *
    Shadowy shapes fled down the corridors of her mind, and Alanna moaned. Eventually, the shadows took the shape of one man: Matt Breckenridge. She watched in silent horror as he began unlocking first one door and then another. Alanna put her hands to her mouth, biting back a cry. Each door he opened held something from her unhappy childhood. When the final door was pulled open, she felt herself transported magically back into the arms of her mother. Tears spilled down her