He shifted, and she caught a glimpse of what he planned to use for the job. The blade of the knife was shaped like a long, thick triangle, the metal shiny and razor sharp. In length, the blade alone rivaled the span of his forearm, and his forearm was not short. The sight of water dripping off deadly metal convinced her not to move a muscle—even when she felt his palm stroke hot paths up and down the back of her calf. His other hand, she noticed dazedly, was trying to work her free. He seemed to be in no great hurry.
"I've got the fire started," Roger called from the bank, causing Amanda to start and glance up sharply.
The man stiffened. "You get the blankets ready?"
"No."
"Christ, that kid's useless," he grumbled so only Amanda could hear. She fought a grin as, louder, he yelled, "What the hell you waiting for? Go get them. Come back when you're done."
Amanda recognized the indignant lift to Roger's chin. She braced herself for the argument to come, knowing the stranger wasn't as familiar with the boy's obstinacy as she was.
"And what, pray tell, will you be doing while I'm fetching blankets?" Roger called out.
"I'll be tanning your backside if you don't get a move on, brat. If you want to sit down anytime in the next month, you'll do as you're told. Now!" The man shifted, glancing over his shoulder at the boy who stood, fists straddling hips, on the bank. While Amanda couldn't see the stranger's eyes at this angle, Roger's suddenly pale cheeks spoke volumes. For an unprecedented third time that day, Roger scurried away.
The man bent back to his task. Beneath the churning water Amanda felt gentle tugs on her numb, swollen ankle... and a peculiar, scraping sensation when his free hand rose. Without permission or apology, he boldly skimmed the inside of her left thigh. His strokes were smooth, sure, and indecently high. The breath she had been inhaling clogged in her lungs. It pushed free in a rush when he released her and abruptly stood.
"All set," he announced as, without warning, he bent at the waist and hoisted her into his arms.
"Good heavens, what are you doing?" she demanded, even as her arms slipped around the thick trunk of his neck. She hadn't given her hands permission to do that. Then again, she hadn't given her body permission to snuggle into his hard male warmth, but she was doing that, too. And it felt rather nice, now that she thought about it. Amanda tried not to think about it.
"What am I doing? Isn't it obvious?"
"Well... yes." And, of course, it was. He was carrying her, plain and simple. Yet, there wasn't a plain thing about the firm, wet chest plastered tightly against her. Nor was there anything at all simple in the way her body automatically, willingly, reacted by curling trustingly into his.
Amanda drew in a shaky breath. His earthy smell and furnace-like heat engulfed her, flooding her whirling senses. Her protests weakened under the sharp male onslaught. "Please, Mr... will you put me down? I can walk."
"Not on that ankle, you can't," he said, and continued to splash through the water, carrying her as though she weighed no more than a wet kitten.
He reached the bank and scaled the incline without upsetting his balance. Their waterlogged clothes seemed no hindrance to his innate agility. The grass made nary a crunch beneath his bare feet as he carried her to the miserly fire Roger had built. Then he knelt and lowered her effortlessly to the sun-warmed grass.
His chin lifted, his penetrating silver gaze scanning the trees. His sigh of disgust felt hot as it rushed over her face and neck. "Where the hell is that good-for-nothing kid? He should be back by now."
Her reply came from between chattering teeth. "You don't know... Roger too well. We'll be lucky if he ever comes back. And you... can forget the blankets. He won't bring them."
His gaze sliced back to her, his expression one of slightly veiled surprise. And then he noticed the way she shivered, the cold eating at her from the inside out. His gaze narrowed. His oaths were vivid, long, and graphic.
"I'll get the blankets," he growled, thrusting to his feet.
Amanda watched him swagger away and again was reminded of a wolf on the hunt. She shivered, but even when she looked away, her mind was filled with his lean, wet back and the way his saturated hair swayed with each step.
In all her life, she'd never known a man who dared to wear his hair so long. Funny, but, like the braid, on him she found the style oddly appealing. Flagrantly unconventional, wild and untamed... like the man himself.
When he returned a short few minutes later, she was huddled into a tight ball on the ground, as close as she could get to the fire without being burned. The heat was insufficient. She was cold to the bone, and, to make an already bad situation worse, the numbness in her legs was gone. Not only did her bad ankle throb, but the rush of returning circulation made it sting unbearably.
She was vaguely aware of something warm and heavy being tossed over her. She snuggled into the covering greedily, barely noticing when the blanket was tucked around her. A corner of her mind knew without looking that the hands slipping over her body would be big and strong and coppery.
He didn't stop there. Amanda gasped when she felt his arms slip beneath her. He lifted her easily, shifted, then settled her atop the solid cushion of his lap. She stiffened, but his palm, cradling the back of her neck, coaxed her cheek to the firm pillow of his chest. His arms wrapped around her like steel bands, locking her into place against him.
Amanda knew she should protest the way he was holding her—even if he was only doing it to share warmth. And she would have, had it not been for the way his virile heat burned away her chill. His inviting warmth made pushing him away just a brief, passing thought. One she barely considered, and didn't act upon.
It took forever for her trembling to pass, but it was the most wonderful forever Amanda had ever spent.
She felt a warm cheek graze the crown of her head when she nuzzled her head into the hollow beneath his shoulder. His heartbeat was a strong, steady tempo in her ears. That, combined with the draining excitement of the morning and this man's comforting warmth, lulled her into a deep state of relaxation.
"Oh, no you don't. Don't you dare fall asleep on me now, Amanda Lennox," he grumbled hotly against her scalp. "We've still got some name-calling to talk out between us."
The words were like a splash of cold water. Amanda went rigid in his arms.