A Bride For The Mountain Man

She would have fallen. And this time, she would not have gotten back up.

Suddenly, Dog A—the one setting their direction—started barking even more exuberantly, and that was when Meredith saw the light.

She hadn’t imagined it!

With tremendous effort, she pushed herself forward, watched the dog run ahead a few more feet, and she pushed herself again. A house! An actual house. She could see the outline now.

She was so close that she was almost on top of it.

The storm had grown increasingly worse since she’d first seen the porch light, before her accident. She should have realized that by the time she returned to approximately the same position on foot, the snow would’ve fully camouflaged the glow. She wouldn’t have seen it again. Not on her own, not without these dogs. But here it was. Just a few more feet.

That was all she had to walk, all she had to find enough power for. A few more feet.

They were, without doubt, the most difficult, exhausting few feet that Meredith had ever walked. But she made it to the porch, up the few steps and to the door.

The dogs were on either side of her now, pressing their bodies against her legs, sharing their strength. Keeping her standing. She knocked on the door, but her fist barely made a sound. She tried again and then, knowing she was this close to collapse, turned the doorknob and pushed open the door.

She called out a feeble “Hello?” but received no response. The room—the blessedly warm room—was empty. The dogs left her side to run in, barked at her to follow and so...well, she did. Unless the owner of this house was heartless, he or she would most certainly understand. And if they didn’t? Well, that was the last worry on Meredith’s mind.

Closing the door behind her, she tried for another “Hello” before half stumbling her way across the room. A low-burning, welcoming fire glowed brightly from the fireplace, and a long, inviting couch was right there along the wall. She went to the sofa, knowing she should take off her coat and outer layers of clothing, but...she couldn’t.

As in, she was unable to.

All she could do was sit down, and then stretch out, on the thick, comfortable cushions and stare at the fire. Oddly, she did not feel awkward at being in a stranger’s home without permission. She wasn’t worried if the owner would understand or be angry when he or she walked in. All she felt, through and through, was a deep, abiding sense of relief.

Just relief. But it was profound.

Meredith fought to stay awake so that when the mystery owner appeared, she could try to explain her presence. Probably, she should sit up. Thought again that she should take off her coat, the shirts wrapped around her head, the socks on her hands. But doing so seemed impossible. Doing so would require considerably more energy than she currently had available.

So she closed her eyes, breathed in the deliciously warm air, and thanked the good Lord for getting her this far. She was alive. Freezing, exhausted, shivering and numb...but alive.

A miracle had occurred. She was not going to die tonight.

Vaguely, she felt the pressure of the dogs—her angels—as they jumped onto the sofa and snuggled their bodies around her, again offering what protection, what help they could. And that was enough to put an end to her feeble resistance. She stopped trying to find energy where there was none, stopped thinking altogether and allowed her body to do what it demanded.

She slept.

Chapter Three (#ua597d059-485f-54a5-bafd-7187224aa6bd)

For a solid hour and a half, Liam searched for Max and Maggie. They weren’t behind the house, nor were they at the stream. He branched out in an ever-widening circle around the cabin while keeping track of his own position. At the forty-five-minute mark, he promised himself he’d only give it another fifteen before returning home, even though he flat-out hated the idea of stopping.

The dogs had gotten stuck somewhere, or one of them was injured. There just wasn’t another logical explanation for their absence. And he had no doubt that if something had happened to one, the other would stand sentry. His dogs were loyal beyond belief, to each other, to him, to Fiona and Cassie. Hell, they’d probably be loyal to a stranger, so long as that stranger wasn’t causing them or their family harm. They were those sorts of dogs.

So when he hit an hour without any sign of them, he gave himself another thirty minutes. Due to the storm and all it brought with it, it was slowgoing despite his knowledge of the terrain and his attempts to move quickly. Didn’t matter where he looked, though. They had seemingly vanished.

It was possible they’d returned to the cabin while he was trekking over the mountainside and even now were waiting for his return. He hoped so.

But yeah, another half an hour before turning back.

At one point, through the wind, he thought he heard barking, but it was so faint and so distant, he couldn’t determine the direction. He called out their names repeatedly and listened closely.

Nothing.

Just the noisy storm playing tricks with his ears, fueled by his desperate hope to locate his dogs. Sighing, Liam pushed forward for the allotted thirty more minutes before turning on his heel and heading back toward the cabin with that awful, sick sloshing in his gut.

If they weren’t there, he’d do the smart thing and warm up, get some food in him, rest for an hour or so, before beginning the search anew. And he’d rinse and repeat those actions for as long as it took or until his body gave out on him and he required more than an hour rest in between. Experience had taught him that he could go a real long time with minimal rest.

As he approached the house, he kept his eyes peeled for signs of Max and Maggie, willing them to appear. They did not. Nor were they waiting for him near the back door.

Damn it!

It was difficult to not turn around and retrace every one of his steps, but he knew better. This storm was fierce. As much as he wanted to get his dogs, he needed intermittent breaks in order to keep going throughout the night. Otherwise, he faced the possibility of wearing himself out too soon, which wouldn’t do Max or Maggie a lick of good.

Sighing, feeling the weight of the world upon his shoulders, Liam entered through the back door, stopping in the heated mudroom. Piece by piece, he removed his outerwear, starting with his insulated gloves, coat and pants and ending with his heavy-duty hiking boots. Next came the wool hat and the midlayer, which was basically a fleece track suit. He hung each item separately, so all would be dry and ready to wear when he ventured back out.

Wearing only his socks, thermal-compressed long johns and a long-sleeved shirt, he walked into the kitchen, his plan to start a pot of coffee. While that brewed, he’d go upstairs, put on a fresh base layer and then prepare a meal. He wasn’t tired yet, so he didn’t need a nap. No more than an hour’s reprieve should do the trick, less if he could get away with it.

He measured the coffee, filled the pot’s reservoir with water, clicked the power button, and as he completed each step, he considered where to start his next foray. If the dogs were stuck or hurt anywhere nearby, he felt sure he would’ve found them. So, they were either farther out than seemed reasonable or, somehow, they’d been picked up by a passing motorist who just happened to be driving through this remote area in the middle of a friggin’ storm.

Doubtful, though not impossible.

Running his hands over his eyes, Liam released a worried sigh. When he woke that morning, all had been right with the world—his world, anyhow—and now, because of two lost dogs, every last thing felt slightly skewed, just enough off balance to be completely wrong. If he’d accepted Fiona’s offer of staying at her place through the storm, he’d still have his dogs.

All would have remained right in his world.

He stomped out that thought good and fast. One of the many lessons he’d learned over the years was not to dwell on what couldn’t be changed. What-ifs did not yield results. All what-ifs did was fill a person with regret, making them wish for the impossible. And that right there was a huge waste of brainpower, energy, and productivity.

Smarter, better to learn from where you’ve already walked, but focus on the ground ahead of you that has not yet been covered.

Fifteen minutes gone. Liam strode from the kitchen into the living room, his vision planted directly on the stairs. Change clothes. Eat. Drink coffee. Get back out there, and...whoa.

Halting with one foot half raised in the air in front of the first step, he pivoted toward the sofa. There were his dogs, safe and sleeping so soundly that neither raised their sharp, pointed noses in his direction.

For a fraction of a second, all Liam could do was stare in shock. How the hell had they gotten into the house? Had they somehow followed him in earlier and he hadn’t noticed? In another millisecond, as his shock faded into relief, he realized they were not alone.

A slight, huddled figure—a woman, he thought—was curled tight against the back of the sofa. Maggie rested at the tips of a pair of petite hiking books and Max stretched out on his stomach along the length of the stranger’s body.

Liam went to the couch, knelt down and patted Max’s head before reaching over to gently shake the woman’s dark-gray-coat-covered shoulder. She didn’t budge or make a sound. He tried again with the same result.

Sizing up the situation and not liking what he saw—wet coat and jeans, pale skin, slight shivers rippling through the woman’s body—Liam muffled a curse. Max, hearing Liam, opened his eyes and scooted to join his sister at the end of the sofa. He whined in an imploring fashion, pushed his nose into the woman’s denim-clad leg and whined again.

“I know, boy,” Liam said. “I know.”

There were a few scenarios that came to mind, but the precise details of how this woman got to his couch escaped him. He also did not know how long she’d been roaming in the bitter cold before finding her way here. Neither of those mattered at that moment. What did was determining the state of her health, along with that of his dogs.

Questions could be answered later.

“Max. Maggie,” he said sharply. “Down!” Max obeyed instantly, but Maggie kept sleeping, so Liam gently tugged her ear. She shifted, opened her eyes and yawned. He repeated his command, and she slid to the floor, where she stood next to Max and added her canine voice to his in a whine equally as imploring. “I got her,” Liam said. “Promise.”