Stranded, Seduced...Pregnant

He permitted himself a grim smile when, after a quick reconnoitre of the immediate area, he discovered the imprint of footsteps that the falling snow was already beginning to cover—his thief was not far ahead.

It was not difficult to follow the footsteps. The thief, who appeared to have stumbled several times, was apparently walking in a series of ever-decreasing circles.

All sounds were muffled in the white landscape except the hoarse rasp of her own laboured respirations as she forced herself onwards. Neve’s reserves of energy were totally depleted; it was sheer desperation now that drove her on. The dread lodged in her chest felt like a stone; total panic was a heavy heartbeat away.

‘I like snow,’ she reminded herself, panting as she added, ‘I love snow.’ Before falling flat on her face for the fifth time—she was counting.

If she ever had grandchildren she was going to bore them silly with this story, though stories that began with the day Granny stole a car might not be setting the best example!

She lay there and closed her eyes; she would just rest for a moment. Then she would get up because if she didn’t there wouldn’t be any grandchildren to set a bad example to.

She would get up because James had trusted her and she couldn’t let him down.

She lay there hearing his voice.

‘I have a favour to ask you, Neve.’

‘Anything,’ she had replied, meaning it.

James Macleod had been at college with her dad and because of that he’d given Charlie a job. Her brother had then proceeded to repay the kindness by embezzling from clients’ accounts to pay for his gambling habit.

Knowing he was about to be found out, Charlie, planning to flee the country, had confessed all to Neve. She had gone to James and begged him not to bring in the police.

Amazingly he hadn’t. Instead James had covered the theft using his own money, with the one proviso that Charlie seek help for his gambling addiction.

As far as Neve was concerned she was not about to refuse any favour James asked of her.

‘Marry me.’

Any favour but that one.

‘I’ve shocked you.’

‘No, no,’ she lied, closing her mouth. Nothing in the way James had treated her had led her to think he thought of her that way.

She certainly had never considered him in a romantic light. She wondered uneasily if anything she had done or said had made him think…? Blushing madly, she fumbled for a tactful way of responding without hurting his feelings.

‘That’s very nice of you, but it’s just…I—’

‘You don’t love me—of course you don’t. I’m old enough to be your father—’

‘It’s not that, it’s—’

‘But this wouldn’t be permanent, Neve. Yes, I know that sounds strange, but bear with me, don’t say anything yet, just let me explain. You see, it’s back,’ he revealed.

Neve knew the ‘it’ James referred to was the disease he had been battling for years.

‘And this time the prognosis is not good. I have two months tops. Don’t cry, Neve, I’ve had time to come to terms with it and, to be honest, I’m pretty tired. My only regret is leaving Hannah.

‘She will be alone and vulnerable, the target of unscrupulous people more interested in her money than her welfare. She will be a very rich young woman, Neve. If you and I marry on paper, and you adopt Hannah, become her legal guardian, nobody will be able to dispute your legality when I am gone. I can trust you. I know you will protect her.’

The tears began to seep from beneath Neve’s closed eyelids. ‘And a great job I’m doing of that!’ she mumbled bitterly into the snow. She hit the powdery white surface with her closed fist and hissed, ‘Come on, Neve, you’re being pathetic. Stop wallowing and get up.’

Teeth gritted, she fought the growing compulsion to just close her eyes. She rolled onto her back; the effort exhausted her. It was while she was lying there gathering her strength that she heard the noise—yes, it was a noise, not the wind. Someone was shouting.

‘Here!’ she croaked. ‘I’m here!’

Energising relief rushing through her body, she struggled to pull herself into a sitting position before drawing herself up onto her knees. Then, hand held above her eyes to shade them from the falling snow, she directed her hopeful gaze at the shadow emerging through the snow. ‘Hannah?’

She felt a stab of disappointment. The figure outlined against the sky was not a girl, but a man, an extremely tall man on skis. A man who, from the speed he was approaching, appeared to know what he was doing.

Not Hannah, she thought, refusing to be disheartened, but someone who could help her find Hannah.

For a horrid split second she thought the figure on skis hadn’t actually seen her—he hadn’t changed direction. Her heart sank, and panic set in as she imagined him passing by. She began to shout and wave her hands, but her words were whipped away by a sudden strong gust of wind. Then just as she was sure he was going to vanish he veered and came to a stop that sent a puff of fresh snow into the air a few feet away from her.

Almost sobbing with relief now, she waved at him and opened her mouth to call a warning that the ground fell away steeply, and closed it again. He was unclipping his skis and walking the last few feet. Unlike her he was not sliding and stumbling, but moving instead with an almost panther-like grace. The figure clad from head to toe in black approached.

Neve willed him to hurry. She was impatient to explain the situation and renew her search for Hannah.

‘I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.’

He stood there for a moment. He might have been happy to see her too, or surprised or any number of things, but it was impossible to tell because his face was covered by a black ski mask. All she could see was the gleam of his eyes through the slits of the mask.

Without saying a word he extended a gloved hand and she took it, her eyes widening as she registered the steely strength of the man who dragged her to her feet.

‘Thank you so much.’ She tilted her head back to look her rescuer in the face. She had to tilt a long way; he was seriously tall. The overall effect of the mask and the all-black outfit was sinister, but, she was willing to admit, practical.

Her own face was numb but she was sure it was going to sting like crazy when the circulation returned to it and her frozen extremities.

‘Have you seen anyone else? A girl about fourteen?’

He didn’t respond to her anxious query, just carried on staring down at her.

‘Dark hair, she’s wearing a red duffel coat.’ A warm colour but the coat wasn’t—it was thin and not waterproof. She caught her wobbling lower lip between her teeth and said with determined optimism, ‘Which will be useful—we’ll be able to spot her miles away.’

Her tone invited him to come back with something appropriately upbeat, but when all he did was carry on staring at her with the same unnerving intensity, Neve gave him a gentle nudge.

‘I mean, red stands out for miles, ask any ginger person.’ She tried, but Neve couldn’t force the laugh past her tight, aching throat muscles. ‘We will find her, won’t we?’

‘Find who?’ His narrowed eyes scanned her face. The freckles across her nose stood out in the ghostly pallor that was alleviated by the patches of colour where the driving snow had chafed the soft skin of her cheeks to a painful pink. More worrying was the bluish tinge of her lips, a warning sign he might have noticed a precious minute earlier if he had not been transfixed by the brilliance of electric-blue eyes. In his defence they were extraordinary.

‘Who?’ Had he been listening to a word she’d said? ‘Hannah, of course.’

He unzipped his jacket and draped it around her narrow shoulder. ‘She’s a redhead too?’

‘No, red coat.’ The heat embedded in the padded fabric was tempting, but as much as she appreciated the gesture she couldn’t let him. ‘That’s really kind of you, but I can’t allow you—’

‘Allow implies I asked permission.’