Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 13933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 70(@200wpm)___ 56(@250wpm)___ 46(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 70(@200wpm)___ 56(@250wpm)___ 46(@300wpm)
“Fur trapping,” he clarifies, giving me a look.
“Right, of course.” I scramble. “Just didn’t, uh… recognize the word in your accent.”
His brow arches. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“You could say that.”
I stare into my bowl like it holds answers.
The dress flares around my legs, heavier than I expected, but not uncomfortable. I’ll need shoes eventually. But I’ll figure that out later.
If I’m not just dreaming.
A thought strikes me. I look up.
“Why do you have a woman’s dress here? If it’s just you?”
His eyes flick away—fast.
That hits a nerve.
“Hey, no judgment,” I joke, trying to cover. “If you like throwing on a gown in the evenings, I support that.”
His gaze snaps back to me. Not amused.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing! Just… kidding.”
The look he gives me shuts me up fast.
My eyes flick to the fireplace. A few rabbits hang above it. I’m not squeamish, but I’m definitely not used to seeing my dinner still wearing its fur.
“You got a problem with my trapping?” he asks.
“No, it’s just…” I fumble. “I haven’t seen anyone live off it before.”
He narrows his eyes. “How’d you manage that?”
“What?”
“Everyone in these parts lives off the land. Trapping. Hunting.”
“Well, not everyone.”
“Too good for it, huh?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” he smirks.
That smirk—the same one he wore when he first saw me in the river. Like he’s imagining stripping me down all over again.
I change the subject.
“You think I’d show up here with no idea where I was?”
“Seems like it.”
“You don’t know anything—”
Another rumble cuts me off. He rises, peering out the window.
“It’s going to snow tonight,” he says.
I frown. “It’s been sunny all day—”
“I know this place. It’s going to snow.”
His eyes lock on mine.
“You’ll have to stay.”
“Oh, will I now?” I stand, arms crossed, thinking how what I really want is to get out of here. And get back home. “Because I’m not going to—”
“No other cabins for miles,” he cuts in, gaze dropping to my bare feet. “Unless you feel like hikin’ through the forest shoeless, I’d advise you stay put.”
“Here? With you?”
He smirks. “Unless there’s some other bathing girls you want to come join us.”
I shift, uncomfortable.
I don’t know him.
I don’t know anything.
But he clothed me. Fed me. Gave me shelter.
And if I really am in 1853… I don’t exactly have options.
“There’s only one bed,” I say.
“You can have it. I’ll take the floor.”
No hesitation. Like it should’ve been obvious.
I fake a yawn. “Then I’m going to bed.”
He nods, heading toward the bedroom.
“Where are you going?” I follow him. “I thought you said you’d sleep on the floor.”
“I will. In here. Snow gets in around the edges of the doors—I can’t sleep in the cold.”
It’s said plainly. No room for debate.
He grabs a blanket from under the bed and lays it on the floor. I perch on the edge of the mattress, not bothering to undress.
He’s already seen more than enough of me.
I lay back, staring at the ceiling, the dress still buttoned tight around me.
“You sure you’re comfortable like that?” he asks, incredulous.
I glance over—he’s shirtless. Muscles cut like stone, flexing as he settles down.
“I’m fine.”
“If you say so.”
He doesn’t press. Thank God.
I turn my back and try to sleep. My brain is fried. I’m exhausted.
The wind rattles outside. The fire pops low.
And slowly, I drift off.
Sometime in the night, I stir.
Something…
Someone…
He’s touching me.
I freeze.
The blanket has slipped off me, my bare leg exposed. His fingers graze my skin—rough, but gentle.
Does he even know he’s doing it?
I don’t move. Don’t breathe.
Just lay there, warm under his touch, caught in this strange, impossible world…
And not quite ready to escape it.
CHAPTER 4
June
Ibite down hard on my lip.
Why is he reaching for me?
I didn’t even realize he could reach from the floor. He’s been a perfect gentleman—quiet, restrained, respectful. But now…
Now I feel the unmistakable weight of his hand on my shoulder.
Then comes a long, low sigh. The kind laced with frustration. Or hunger. Or both.
I roll to face him—and there he is.
Awake. Staring at me. Eyes glowing in the dark like embers waiting for wind.
“Elias, I—”
He moves.
A sudden jolt, shifting to the edge of the bed like he’s lost all control. My heart slams into my ribs. A part of me flinches—but the deeper part, the dark part, the real part of me?
I stay still. I want this.
“You know how long it’s been since I had a woman in my bed?” he murmurs, his hand sliding down my arm, fingers trailing sparks behind them.
“I… I don’t…”
“And then I wake up in the middle of the night…” His fingertips brush my jaw. “That dress clinging to you. That skin…”
He groans again, low and primal.
Then his thumb grazes my mouth.
I go still.
His hands are callused. But his touch? It’s worship. My breath catches. A pulse of heat surges through me, a deep throb between my thighs.