Be Mine at Christmas(33)
Author: Brenda Novak

Turning his face toward the rocks, he squeezed his eyes shut. He’d caused this. She’d given her heart and soul last night because she’d been pretending he was Mark, and he’d thrown them right back in her teeth. But only because he couldn’t justify what he’d felt as easily as she could. He’d had to acknowledge who it was moaning in his ear, and the eagerness of his reaction made him wonder if he’d ever hated her as much as he wished.

Forcing back the terror that made him colder inside than out, he scrambled down to the place where she’d fallen.

It was a difficult climb, but once he’d traveled ten feet or so, he could see beyond the bank of snow that had hidden her from view. She hadn’t fallen all the way to the bottom; she was lying on an outcropping of rocks.

But she wasn’t moving. She looked small and pale, as white as the surrounding snow, especially with her dark coat torn open to reveal the smooth skin he’d touched last night.

He spotted red almost immediately. Was that her underwear? Or was it blood?

The thought that it might be blood created a hard lump in Maxim’s stomach, a lump that got heavier the closer he came to her. She was scratched up; he could see that easily enough. But…he watched for movement, any hint of life—and saw her hand twitch.

She might be badly hurt, but she wasn’t dead. The minute he reached her, she opened her pretty blue eyes and said, “Did you come…for your boots?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

ADELAIDE FELT LIKE an idiot for causing Maxim and herself so much additional trouble. She’d let sensitivity and pride urge her to act rash and now she had scraped knees and an abrasion on her stomach to show for her icy slide down the mountain. Worse than that, she’d hurt her leg and could only limp, which meant she had to rely on him even more.

He didn’t complain. He didn’t say much of anything. He was too determined to get them to where they were going. Every hundred yards or so, he’d leave her in a safe spot, scout out what he planned to do next, then come back for her. She argued with him several times, insisting he take his boots and go. He could move so much faster without her and send the rescuers back, she told him. But he refused.

She was glad he hadn’t relented when they finally found the plane. Although the fire and the crash had done significant damage, it wasn’t as bad as she’d assumed it would be. The tail had been sheared off, leaving a jagged hole that exposed part of the interior, the nose was smashed and the charred walls and upholstery smelled terrible.

But there was some good news. They could climb inside to avoid the worst of the wind. They had the comfort of knowing that if there was a working emergency beacon, they were now much closer to it. And they could take Mr. Cox home with them and make sure he received a proper burial.

Not that Adelaide wanted to spend much time in close proximity to his remains. Maxim must’ve felt the same because he pulled the frozen corpse out and moved it some distance away.

The absence of that morbid reminder of what had almost happened to them—what could still happen—filled Adelaide with relief. Until she saw Maxim return wearing the pilot’s snow boots and carrying his parka.

“Take off that wet coat and put this one on instead,” he said, tossing it to her.

She slid over so it wouldn’t brush against her as it landed, drawing a frown from him.

“We have to be practical or we won’t make it.” The gruffness of his voice told her he wasn’t any happier about appropriating Cox’s clothes for his own use. She couldn’t fault him for doing it, but neither could she follow his suggestion. The idea of borrowing from the dead made her ill.

“He’d want you to have it,” Maxim said.

“Why would he?” she asked. “He didn’t even know me.”

“As a pilot, he was responsible for your safety. And it’s not as if he’ll miss it.”

She shook her head. She knew she was being impractical, but she couldn’t help it. Her hand recoiled every time she tried to reach out. “No.”

He studied her but didn’t insist. A moment later, he started rummaging around, gathering up items that might prove useful.

Because the plane had landed upside down, Adelaide sat on one of the overhead compartments and removed Maxim’s rubber boots so she could warm her toes. Her leg throbbed from her fall and her stomach growled with hunger, but if anything else hurt, she couldn’t feel it. She was too cold.

“We’re in luck,” he said. “There’s a lot of stuff here that didn’t burn.”

She thought they could use a little more luck, like a helicopter hovering overhead, but there was nothing to gain by being negative. So she kept her mouth shut.

Maxim made a few other comments as he searched the various compartments that would still open; Adelaide sat there quietly.

Finally, he stood as tall as he could in the cramped hull and waited until he had her full attention. “What’re you thinking about?”

She eyed the parka. Mr. Cox lying in the snow without his coat. “I’m thinking this is some Christmas.”

“How were you planning to spend the holidays?”

Adelaide hadn’t decided. Since Mark’s death she generally volunteered at a homeless shelter on Christmas morning, to remind herself that she should be grateful for what she had. Then she went to her former in-laws’ for dinner. But visiting the Fairfaxes wasn’t the same without Mark. His older brother had remarried and had an obnoxious stepson who loved to bait her on political issues. Mark’s mother’s health was deteriorating, so she was getting cranky and inflexible and spent most of the dinner berating her stepgrandson. And Mark’s father remained as uncommunicative as ever. These days, Adelaide felt like a stranger when she went there. Until she got stranded and couldn’t see anybody even if she wanted to, she’d actually been thinking she might work as if it were any other day. She’d told herself she’d get more done without all the interruptions. “With Mark’s family, I guess.”

“You’re still close?”

“It’s only been two and a half years.” Only? Those two and a half years had seemed like an eternity. But that response saved her from having to answer more directly. They’d never been close; they were simply all she had. “What about you?” she asked.

“My kids are expecting me to be home.”

“Do you have dinner at your place?”

“Yeah.” He surprised her with a disarming smile. “I’m hoping I’ve got a few more years before either of them marry and Christmas becomes a negotiation.”