4

The small miracle was that as she’d brought the old house back from its slumbers…the house had awakened her, too. It was as if she was finally becoming the woman she’d once been. The woman who danced in the kitchen. The woman who could enjoy a quiet moment in the stillness, just appreciating a beautiful day. And because she’d found that miracle, she was strong enough to help a man who looked as though he could use one, too.

With that thought firmly in mind, she headed for the barn again. Her boots crunched in the snow and the wind whipped around her, sneaking icy fingers down the collar of the jacket she’d thrown on over her sweater.

She didn’t care though. It felt good to be alive. And if she was a little nervous about the stranger in her barn…it was a natural kind of nervousness. So that was good, too. She rounded the corner, stepped through the open barn door and stopped. He was gone.

“Mr. Dravenhart?” She took another step and now her boots clacked and echoed against the old wooden planks. “Mr. Dravenhart.”

“Over here.”

Her head whipped to one side and she spotted him, all the way into the corner of the barn; he had his back to the wall and his gaze on her. All around him slivers of sunlight peeked through the roof like golden bars of a cell, holding him in place. A niggling, ridiculous notion tugged at the back of her mind for a second before she could dismiss it. “Are you all right?” she asked. 

“Great.” His voice was tight. “Your roof needs fixing.”

“Yeah, but it’s low on the list right now.” She walked toward him with slow steps. Funny, but she felt almost as if she were trying to ease up on a hungry tiger. He had a taut stillness about him that made her think of a predator.

And that was almost enough to make her back out of the barn and leave him alone. But if she did that, then she would be surrendering to her own fears and she’d worked too hard to get past that time in her life. To rediscover her own courage and the spirit that had once been so completely crushed.

“Look,” she said, forgetting about the fact that just a few minutes ago she’d wanted him gone, “you don’t have to stay in the barn. I told you, you can come inside. It’s warmer there and the roof doesn’t sprout sunlight every few inches.”

He scraped one hand across his face, then focused his gaze on her. Even in the shadows, she saw the flash of something molten in those dark depths.

“You don’t have to do this.” His voice rumbled out around her, soft, deep, almost hypnotic. “You should go back inside. Don’t come back here.”

“This is my barn,” Seraphine reminded him. “Of course I’m coming back here.”

He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall behind him. “You have no sense of self-preservation at all, do you?”

“Excuse me?” She knelt on the floor beside him and opened the first-aid kit. “I’m not the one who was lying unconscious in the snow.”

“I appreciate what you did, but you should just go back to your house. I'll be gone by nightfall.”

“To where? I didn’t see a car out front.” And as she said it, Seraphine wondered just how in the heck he’d come to be in her yard, anyway. Had he walked from town? In the snow?

“That’s not your concern.” He moved farther from her, tucking himself deeper into the shadowy corner.

Just then, the sun slipped behind a bank of clouds and the barn darkened, the slanting bars of sunlight winking out as if they’d never been. And the man huddled against the barn wall sighed, as if in relief.

“More snow’s coming,” Seraphine pointed out with a glance behind her at the open barn door. She could smell it on the wind and in a heartbeat, she made a decision. “You can’t leave. This storm is supposed to be a big one. You probably wouldn’t make it into town before it hit—even if you had a car.”

Scowling, he gritted his teeth and gave her a short nod. “You’re right. I’ll wait out the storm.”

“Not out here, you won’t.” She picked up the first-aid kit again and stood up, to look down at him. “You’ll freeze to death.”

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

“So I can find your frozen dead body in the morning?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Fine.” Aleron pushed himself to his feet and swayed a little, reaching out one hand to the wall to steady himself.

He was hungry. Every cell in his body cried out for blood and the temptation of having her so near to him was one he was hard put to ignore. Her eyes stared up at him with concern, though, and that was enough to at least momentarily bank the bloodlust clamoring inside.

She had helped him. He wouldn’t repay her by sinking his teeth into her lovely throat. No matter how much he longed to. He shot a quick look at the world beyond the barn and noted that the light was gray, clouds having obliterated the sun. He could make it to the house. And once inside, away from the light, he could gather his strength. Then he’d leave her before his hunger outstripped his sense of chivalry.

“Lean on me.” She wrapped one arm around his waist, tucking her shoulder under his arm.

“This is getting to be a habit,” he muttered and was rewarded by the smile she flashed at him.

“Let’s get you into the house.”

They made it across the yard and up the steps, with Seraphine supporting his every stride. It had been a long time since Aleron had needed anyone’s help. And accepting that help didn’t come easily to him. Still, he didn’t have much choice. If he didn’t get into the house and away from the danger of sunlight, he would die. And just at this moment, with Seraphine’s scent filtering him, he realized that he wasn’t ready to march into hell.

His strength was returning, and the more it returned the less he needed her help, but he tried not to look too recovered so she wouldn't ask anymore questions. What was he going to tell her? One minute he was too weak to even stand, and the next he was walking around without help? He could only imagine how that conversation would go.