Free Wilderness Passion by Lindsay McKenna Page A

was as a very young child. Snakes simply did not exist on the streets of San Francisco or at Half Moon Bay, where she often spent her weekends. Her vivid imagination carried the incident even further as the snake struck at her, his jaws open and venom dripping from his yellowish fangs when he lunged toward her bare, sunburned arm.
    Libby jerked awake, screaming. For several seconds she was disoriented, bathed in the horror of the nightmare. A small whimper escaped from her as she buried her head in her perspiring hands. Then strong, lean arms were there, encircling her, holding her protectively.
    “It’s all right,” Dan soothed huskily, stroking her hair gently, drawing her against his body.
    “Oh, Dan...” she cried.
    “You’re trembling. Shh, honey, you’re safe. It was just a bad dream,” he reassured her.
    Libby hid her face against his bare chest, unaware of the dark hair beneath her cheek. Tears squeezed from between her tightly shut eyelids as she tried to shake the vision of the rattler. Dan’s fingers kneaded her tense neck and shoulder muscles in an effort to get her to relax. Finally she stopped trembling, but she remained in his embrace, needing the security he offered.
    Libby felt her heart pounding in her breast and consciously tried to control her fear. “I—I’m sorry,” she gulped thickly.
    Dan leaned over, his fingers brushing the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t be. I would have been surprised if you hadn’t gotten at least one bad dream out of it, Libby.”
    The night was cool, as it always was in the mountains, but Dan’s body seemed to radiate heat like the sun itself. “Every time I close my eyes, all I see is that horrible snake!”
    He gave her a small squeeze. “It’s too early to get up, Libby—you’re going to have to try to get back to sleep.”
    She hated being childish about it. “I feel so stupid,” she whispered. “I kept thinking the snake was in my sleeping bag.” She shivered violently.
    “Easy, honey,” he soothed. He drew away, studying her intently. “You are frightened, aren’t you?”
    “I—I feel so foolish, Dan. I’m sorry. Like I’m falling apart inside and—” She sobbed, no longer able to hold back the tears. “I don’t mean to be a pain to work with,” she blurted out unsteadily.
    He drew her close. “Delayed reaction,” he provided grimly. “Will you be all right here by yourself for a moment?”
    Libby had wrapped her arms tightly around her drawn-up legs. “Well...yes. Why?”
    He rose and was quickly swallowed up by the pitch darkness. Confused, Libby remained still, trying to control the trembling in her body. Dan reappeared at her side and knelt, unzipping her bag and then opening it up. “Come on,” he coaxed, “lie down here beside me.”
    She gave him a startled, wide-eyed look. He managed a soft smile, pulling her down beside him. “Look, Lib, we both need our rest. I think you’ll be able to sleep if I hold you close. We’ve got a rough day ahead of us tomorrow and we can’t afford to keep each other up.” He placed his opened sleeping bag over them.
    He maneuvered a speechless Libby around so that her back was curved against his body, her head resting against his arm.
    At that point she couldn’t decide which was more disturbing, the rattler or being thrown unexpectedly into Dan’s arms. But as his breathing became regular she realized he was doing it out of practicality. And, more than anything, Dan was practical. That thought soothed her alarm and she felt her shoulders relaxing, the tension melting away.
    “Good girl,” he whispered huskily, his breath moist against her neck. “Good night, my druidess. You won’t have any more bad dreams tonight.” His other hand slipped across her T-shirted stomach, resting against her, fitting her perfectly against the frame of his body.
    She was safe, and that was all that mattered now. Like a lost kitten, she snuggled against him as exhaustion reclaimed her.

5
    T HE SUN