Chapter 11
DEVLIN
Devlin finished the last of the protein bar, using his fingers to mop up the crumbs. His right arm still ached, but he’d taken more pain killers when he’d woken and they were fighting off the worst. It helped that his mood was a million times better than it had been last night. With the storm long gone, and the day as bright as anything, the helicopters would be out in force looking for him. By noon at the latest he’d be sitting in the bar with his friends drinking champagne and flirting with the waitresses.
He smiled at the thought. This little trip to the mountains would be nothing more than a bad memory, a story to tell at dinner parties. He’d buy another helicopter, and life would go on just as it had before.
He wasn’t sure why the thought filled him with sadness. Once again, he’d be Devlin Storm, and the world would be his oyster. What did he have to feel down about?
“Thanks for breakfast,” Darcy said, placing the makeshift tray on the floor and stretching again. She was dressed in that ridiculous sweater, and her hair resembled some kind of haystack, but she was still tantalisingly beautiful. She caught him looking and frowned, putting a hand on her head. “It does this. I don’t suppose you’ve got a bottle of conditioner in that case of yours? Is that something your club promotes? APEX conditioner?”
He raised an eyebrow as he shook his head, then pushed himself to his feet.
“We should leave as soon as possible,” he said. “In case there’s another storm moving in. I’ll double check the map, and leave a note here in case anyone finds the place.”
“I’ll do another sweep of the cabin for food,” she said. “Just in case we missed anything.”
“Good,” replied Devlin, nodding. They were turning out to be a fairly good team. He started to go, then hesitated. He didn’t remember much about last night — he’d been so exhausted he’d pretty much passed out. But he had a vague memory in his head, something that might just have been a dream. “Darcy, did I say anything to you while I was asleep?”
Darcy laughed, but she shook her head.
“You were as quiet as a mouse,” she said, but she was smiling in a way that made him unsure whether he believed her or not.
“That’s a relief,” he said, with a little smile of his own. “By the way, you cuddle like a python when you’re asleep. I thought you were trying to crush me.”
Her mouth dropped open in embarrassment, and she picked up a cushion and hurled it at him.
“I do not!” she yelled.
Devlin laughed, escaping out of the room as a second cushion came flying towards him. He was still laughing as he walked into the small bedroom. He laid the map on one of the stripped beds, and double-checked the route he’d drawn in pencil. It was going to be a tough climb up the mountain to the ranger’s station, especially with his arm out of action, and especially with Darcy in tow, but he was almost 100 percent sure they could manage it. They didn’t have a choice. If they stayed here, with no way of contacting the world, then they risked never being found.
Besides, heading up the mountain was where he needed to go to finish what he’d started. It was the whole reason he was here in the first place.
He heard Darcy humming to herself as she walked out of the living room and past the door. She had such a sweet voice, even when she was hurling insults at him. It hurt his heart a little bit to hear her singing — in a good way. Although he’d deny this in front of the world’s press, who all thought he was a devilish womaniser, it had been a long, long time since he’d woken up with a woman beside him. The last time it had happened, in fact, was the morning he’d split up with his last girlfriend — nearly a year ago.
The memory of it, of Claudia packing her things and walking out of the door, was still painful — not because he regretted her leaving, but because he regretted so much of the time they had spent together, the time he had wasted on her. Devlin focused instead on the soft and gentle voice he could hear from the other room. Darcy was everything that Claudia wasn’t. Claudia had been a model, as beautiful as they came, but her beauty had felt so artificial. Claudia had been cold, and selfish, and unkind, whereas Darcy was compassionate and considerate and generous.
Come on , he said to himself. You don’t even know her .
That was true. They’d met just over twelve hours ago, and the circumstances weren’t exactly normal. But maybe that was it — strange things happened under extreme conditions. It was pressure that turned trees into diamonds, after all.
He folded the map and slotted it into his pocket, then he tore a page from one of the textbooks they’d found and scribbled a note onto it, struggling to shape the letters with his injured arm.
This is Devlin Storm. Me and the girl are alive. We spent the night here and are now en route to the ranger station via the pass. Look for us there.
He added the coordinates of the station, then gave it one last read through, feeling something twang in his stomach. He quickly crossed out where he’d written the girl and added Darcy’s name instead. Feeling better about it, he left the note where anyone entering the research cabin would see it. Walking back to the living room, he found Darcy there. She was pulling her jacket over her thick sweater and doing a good job of tying herself in knots.
“Need a little help?” he asked. She stopped, her arms out like a scarecrow, then nodded.
“I don’t think I’ve ever worn so many clothes in my life,” she said.
“You’ll need them,” he replied, walking to her. He held the jacket while she pushed her arms into the sleeves, then he zipped it up for her. “It’ll be pushing minus ten in the shade, but it will warm up later in the day.”
She shuffled, trying to pull her loose trousers back into place.
“Shall I . . . ?” he asked.
“What?” she said.
“Your trousers.”
“What about them?” she replied.
“You know, shall I fix them.”
“You want to fix my pants?” she asked, and her cheeks turned the most delightful shade of pink. “Do they need fixing? Is there something wrong with them?”
“Not if you want them to drop to the ground halfway up the mountain,” he said, and her blush deepened even further. “That didn’t come out quite the way I intended it to,” he went on, feeling his own cheeks heat a little as well. “But when you’re climbing an ice shelf, the last thing you want is to lose your trousers. May I?”
“Uh . . . I guess so,” she said, lifting her arms. Devlin grabbed the waistline of her trousers and, ignoring the pain in his arm, folded it over, then again, tying the drawstring as tight as he could. He knotted it twice more, then stood back, noting she’d swapped out her dress shoes for the boots she’d found.
“Better?” he asked. She nodded, doing a little jig.
“Much,” she said. “Although I probably should have used the loo first.”
They laughed together, their eyes grazing each other’s, snagging and holding for a beat, then another. Devlin’s mind went completely blank, like an untouched field of heavy snow. All he could think about was those huge eyes, those full lips, and that sweet, innocent voice. His brain was caught in a hamster wheel of where it had gone last night, flashes of his indecent thoughts making him buzz. Thoughts of a hand on her waist and his fingers tracing her curves, and he felt his trousers tighten across his groin. She was something else.
“Right!” Darcy squeaked, dragging her eyes away from his. “We should probably make a move!”
“Definitely,” he replied, his voice gravelly. “Absolutely.”
He tried to walk past her, just as she tried to walk past him, and they bumped together. And for a sweet moment Devlin’s fantasies were coming to life. His strong fingers closed around her waist, and they ended up closer than he intended. At least, that’s what he was telling himself as her front rubbed against his. He felt everything. The softness of her body through her layers, the heat of her skin through her hands, the tingling in his lower belly.
Let her go you idiot.
“Sorry,” he said, dropping his hands like lead weights and standing to the side, offering her the right of way. “After you.”
“Thank you,” she said, bolting through the door.
Devlin couldn’t help but smile as he watched her waddle away in her giant coat. Then he walked to the fire, emptied snow over the rumbling ashes, and picked up his own clothes. They were bone dry, and he carefully slid on the suit jacket first, then the thermal coat, clumsily buttoning everything up as tightly as it would go. Darcy had found some hats and gloves in the storeroom and even though they were a little small he managed to wrestle them on, along with a pair of battered boots that were ugly but, thankfully, toasty warm. It wasn’t exactly the right sort of kit for conditions like this, but all in all it wasn’t too bad.
He walked from the room, pausing by the door to look back. The two mattresses still sat between the sofa and the newly doused fire, blankets bundled on top. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt sad at the thought of leaving here. This little cabin had stood here for who knows how long, and for years now it had been empty. Yet it had provided shelter and warmth and food for him and Darcy. It had kept them alive, without a doubt.
And it had brought him and Darcy closer. No matter how he’d felt about her back at the Royal Alpine, spending last night in her company had shifted something in him. Yes, she was frustratingly talkative and often a little daft, but she had been fearsome and capable in the storm. And she seemed to genuinely care about him. Not about his wealth or his position. Him. Devlin.
As difficult as the day was going to be, he felt glad that he wasn’t on his own — and gladder still that it was Darcy who was with him. At least, with her, he wouldn’t get bored, and she was smarter and hardier than he’d given her credit for.
He was almost enjoying spending time with her.
Stop being a fool ! he told himself. And that’s exactly what he was being, a fool.
Darcy was there for one reason and one reason only, or maybe one hundred thousand reasons. Devlin had almost let himself forget about the money he’d bribed her with. But he knew, deep down, that was the only reason Darcy was seeming to be genuinely lovely. It had to be. Why else would someone as kind as Darcy be interested in someone like him?
One of the reasons he’d been so successful, especially in the years he and Claudia had been together, was that he’d put matters of the heart so far behind him that they couldn’t get in his way. He was ruthless, and determined, and heartless, and that’s the way it had to stay if he was to keep his position as one of the richest and most famous men in the world.
Yet standing here, in this modest little building, he wasn’t even sure if that’s what he wanted anymore. He felt more at home here than he had done in any of his houses and apartments, any of his hotel suites. He felt like he belonged .
“You ready?” called a voice from the other end of the cabin.
“I am,” he said.
He left the room and made his way down the corridor, walking into the front room with a steely determination to not get carried away. Darcy was by the front door, his suitcase open in front of her. She was putting something inside it, and a red-hot fear exploded inside him, uncontrollable.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted. She jumped up, shocked, and he stormed towards her so fast that she jumped away from him.
“I was just putting these in the case,” she said, holding up another protein bar and what might have been an extra pair of gloves. “I thought we could carry everything we needed in—”
“You don’t think,” he said, his voice a low and frightening growl. “That’s my suitcase. You have no business opening it.”
Darcy’s face screwed up as she glared back at him.
“I was trying to help,” she said.
“Then don’t,” he spat back. “Don’t do anything unless I tell you to. Don’t speak, don’t think. If you want to get out of here as much as I do, then you’ll do exactly what I say. And stay away from my stuff.”
He grabbed the case as best as he was able with his bad arm, then opened the door. Behind him, he heard Darcy stutter an apology. But he ignored her, and marched out into the snow.