Sarah's Heart by Ginger Simpson Page B

you
could say that I don’t fit anywhere.”
    “If I hadn’t noticed
your lack of clothing and your braids, I would never have known. Your English
is impeccable, and your eyes….” She turned her head, staring toward the
bubbling stream.
    Wolf leaned out to
see her face, smiling at the noticeable blush in her cheeks.
    Her stomach rumbled
nosily. “I’m mighty hungry, she said, clamping her arm across her belly. “I
haven’t eaten for a couple of days.”
    “Let’s get you back
to my comfy bed, and I’ll try my hand at fishing while you rest. I usually have
good luck because the river isn’t very far away, and the fish generally prefer
the slower running water for breeding.” He helped her to her feet, supporting
her with an arm around her waist. She whimpered when she put weight on her sore
leg.
    She ducked beneath
the overhang and stooped to move to the rear of the shelter. “Couldn’t you have
found a taller place?” she asked.
    “This was taller
when I found it. I was twelve and not nearly as long-legged as I am now.”
    He took her hands to
help her sit, and even in the muted darkness of the cavern, he sensed her gaze
roving over him. A fine lady like Miss Sarah probably wasn’t used to seeing so
much skin. As soon as he got her settled in, he’d dig out his other pair of
buckskins and dress more appropriately.

 
    * * *

 
    Fire burned brightly
within the circled stones, sparking higher with each drip of juice from the
skewered fish suspended on two forked sticks. The enticing aroma made Sarah’s
stomach grumble even more.
      Wolf crouched at the water’s edge, washing the
blood from his knife, while Sarah mused over the powerful muscles encased in
the sleeves of his fringed shirt. She hadn’t dared pay this much attention to
him when he was practically naked. His long braids struck a familiar note… and
the headband. Was it possible he was the same person she left unaided beneath
the tree where she’d sought refuge? Her pondering ended when he stood and
strode back to the fire.
    “These should be
about done.” He indicated the nearly blackened fish. “I’m sorry I don’t have
anything to put them on, or utensils. You’ll have to resort to using your
fingers if you really want to eat.”
    “No matter, as
hungry as I am, I could gnaw bark off a tree.”
      “I think the fish will be a little easier to
manage.” He laughed, sheathing his knife in a beaded pouch tied just below his
hip.
      The firelight dancing in his hazel eye made
Sarah’s stomach flutter again, only this time she suspected it had nothing to
do with hunger. This was her first time being alone with a man, and he was
definitely a fine looking one. A million questions twirled through her mind,
but right now, she wanted to eat. He might not feed her if he realized she’d
left him for dead.
    Wolf handed her the
fish, wood skewer and all, and she gingerly nipped at it, daring not burn her
lips. Recalling what her mother did when her oatmeal was too hot, Sarah blew to
cool the crispy skin then gnawed into the meat. Juice dripped from her chin,
and she wiped the wetness on the back of her hand and took another bite, taking
care to watch for tiny bones. She paused between swallows. “This is delicious.
My stomach thought my throat was cut.”
    As soon as the words
left her mouth, she sobered, recalling how close she came to actually dying in
that manner. She flashed a half grin at Wolf. “That saying was something my
father always used when hungry.” A noisy sigh whooshed past her lips. “I don’t
find it quite so funny anymore.”
    Wolf nodded. “I
understand why the humor has faded, but you’re safe here.” He took another bite
of fish. His black hair glistened in the firelight, and his high cheekbones
became more prominent as he chewed. Caught in a shroud of doubt, Sarah worried.
As nice as he seemed, Wolf was still part Indian. Could she really trust him?
      He finished his fish before she’d gotten
through