“You’d have to be a fool to attempt an escape in this weather and with only a wool cloak to protect you.” He walked over to her and captured her chin with his fingers. “And if anything, Carissa, I know you’re no fool.”
He draped his fur-lined cloak over his shoulders, grabbed the bucket near the door, and, taking a tight hold on the door, he opened it and stepped outside, closing it firmly behind him.
Carissa almost sunk to the floor, her legs trembled so badly. He was learning too much about her, and she feared his piecing things together and discovering the truth. What then? Would he hate her even more? Or could he love her?
They were enemies, she reminded herself, and hadn’t her father warned her time and time again that once an enemy, always an enemy. Could she ever truly trust Ronan?
The door opened, and he hurried in, setting the full bucket on the floor. “Give me what you want filled from the rain barrel.”
Carissa grabbed the larger cauldron near the hearth and gave it to him. He once again disappeared out the door. She sunk down on the chair at the table. How was she ever going to survive her time here with him? She feared revealing too much of herself. She had to remember who she was. Hadn’t her father told her that often enough?
Never forget that you are Carissa, daughter of Mordrac the Barbarian.
And didn’t Ronan remind her the same often enough?
The door opened again, and Carissa stood, quickly gathering the bowls. She didn’t want him to find her sitting there in thought.
“Can you hang it on the hook in the hearth?” she asked him.
He did, then hung his cloak on the peg beside hers.
“The weather worsens,” he said, sitting down in the rocker and holding his hands out to warm them. “The snow grows heavy, and the skies look to promise more. If it keeps up, we will be stuck here for some time.”
She didn’t need to hear her worst fear confirmed though she hadn’t expected any different.
“Is there enough food in the root cellar for us?” he asked.
“More than sufficient,” she assured him. “There is even dried meat.”
“Good, for it would not be easy to hunt in this weather.”
“The sky shows no promise of change?” she asked, seeking a shred of hope.
Ronan shook his head. “The sky is barely visible, the snow falls so heavily, and it feels like the storm brews as if it has yet to reach its peak.”
Carissa nodded, knowing that it wasn’t the only storm out there brewing. The one inside the cottage had yet to gain momentum, and when it peaked, she feared the results.
Chapter 9
You would think that there would be nothing to do but wait out the storm, but there was a matter of survival to consider. Which was why Ronan braved the harsh weather several times during the day to gather as much of the firewood as possible to stack inside the cottage. It needed time to dry in order to burn properly.
Carissa had suggested that they collect certain food staples from the root cellar to keep in the cottage so that they didn’t have to continually open the root cellar and lose the much-needed heat.
She also found two extra blankets in the chest beside the bed. Ronan watched as she took a chair from the table, placed its back to the hearth, and draped one blanket over it. She turned the blanket several times, exposing all sides to the heat. She’d test it with her hand now and again, and when it seemed to please her touch, she moved it to the bed and placed the second blanket over the back of the chair.
He wondered over her domestic actions. He never imagined her capable of anything useful. To him she was the spoiled and selfish daughter of a barbarian, who demanded and got whatever she wanted, and that included killing people at her whim.
He had a difficult time seeing her as a capable woman, especially one who could cook more than a decent meal and see to keeping a bed warm with little to help her accomplish the task. Least of all, he had not expected her to provide him with a tankard of hot cider every time he had come in out of the cold.
He had to remember who she was and ask himself why she acted so contrary to her nature. The answer was obvious. She was a cunning creature who would do anything to survive, even change her demeanor. He had to be very careful around her. He couldn’t allow her to deceive him. He had to remember always who she was…the person who had killed the woman he loved.
Night had fallen hours ago, and for supper they had enjoyed the hearty soup that had simmered in the cauldron all day. Carissa had baked two loaves of dark bread, saving one loaf for tomorrow. She had also made some type of apple spread to go with it, and Ronan had savored every delicious bite, not leaving a drop of soup or crumb.