The Passionate Lover. Carole Mortimer

than she had imagined, although the fireplace was there, and miraculously, so were the matches! Her hands trembled as she ripped off her gloves and struck one of the precious matches, looking around in wonder at the well-stocked and provisioned cabin. Whoever it belonged to couldn't be that far away, possibly just in the nearest town for a few days’ shopping and seeing friends. Whoever he was she felt grateful to him, would leave a note of explanation and reimbursement for anything she used.

      One thing she had discovered on that cursory look around the cabin were some old-fashioned oil-lamps, and she lit one of them with her next match, grateful for its cheering warmth as she took stock of her surroundings. There was certainly no luxury to be found here, but there was the fireplace that would soon warm her, and a wood-burning stove that she would be able to use to heat up food and water on. She had never camped out in her life, never stayed anywhere this primitive before, but she had a feeling she was going to be plunged in at the deep-end, that she had to learn, and quickly, if she were to survive. It wasn't even night yet, only early evening, and the temperature that was already more severe than anything she had ever known before could get even lower during the night hours, making her first priority the lighting of a fire.

      She was sure it wasn't the best fire anyone had ever built, and the stove threw more smoke out into the room at first than went up the chimney, but she soon fixed that by adjusting the door so that it fit into place better, and the fire threw out enough heat for her to be able to remove her jacket and take stock of the rest of the room.

      For the cabin was only one room, well-planned to give the maximum amount of space, but still only one room for eating, sitting and sleeping. Four bunk beds, two on each side of the room, one above the other, stood at one end, a small sitting and eating area in the middle, and the wood-burning stove at the other end to cook on. But the furniture looked clean and serviceable, the scatter-rugs on the floor giving it a homely touch. Rustic charm, her London friends would have said it had, although they would have expected plumbing and electricity to go along with that charm. Shelby was sure it didn't have the latter, and it didn't seem to have plumbing either. But at least she was safe from the blizzard, the inevitability of dying fading as the warmth increased in the room.

      Quite when the noises outside began to bother her she didn't know, but halfway through drinking the soup she had heated she suddenly had the impulse to lock and bolt the door. The noises were only the ones of the storm, she knew that, the wind and the swaying creak of the surrounding trees, and yet the feeling persisted, so much so that in the end she did lock and bolt the door just to settle her own mind. It wasn't just the human factor that frightened her, it was the wildlife too. A Londoner born and raised, she hadn't even seen a real live cow until she was ten years old, and then only because the school had taken them on a trip to a farm for the day. Kenny had told her they had deer and other small harmless animals in the thousands of acres of valley and mountains that was the Double K ranch, but she hadn't thought to ask if they had bears too.

      Every noise outside now seemed to take on frightening proportions, and she jumped nervously as a branch of a tree crashed against the window. But was it a tree? It could be a bear, or a wolf! She had read books and seen films where people had gone insane as a creature of the night stood watch outside cabins like this.

      Was that what she was doing? Surely she was made of sterner stuff than that? She had lived through, and survived so much the last few years, surely she was strong enough not to crack up at the sound of natural forest noises?

      But were they natural? She could have sworn she heard something moving about outside just now, and not just the random noises of the wind and trees but a definite pattern around the cabin. Her hands tightened about the mug that contained her soup, her eyes wide with fear as she looked towards the door expectantly.

      The first rattle of the door frightened her so much the mug of soup dropped out of her hand, and she stood up to back against the wall as it rattled once again, an eerie sound, much like a growl, accompanying it this time. God, there was a wild animal out there, and it sounded as if it were going to break in at any moment!

      Shelby had never been so terrified, listening as the predator moved away from the door to circle the cabin once more. Her heart rose in her throat as she saw the furry face at the window, her breathing seeming to stop altogether as a hairy paw struck the window pane, the eerie growl accompanying the fierce tapping movement.

      The window! God, she had locked and bolted the door and forgotten to shutter the windows! As she hurried to do so the face appeared at the window again, and she stepped back with a scream, her hands shaking so badly now she was incapable of closing the shutters even if she had wanted to. She watched the door with horrified fascination as the creature outside began to pound against the wood, sure that the bolts and lock would give at any moment, splinters already starting to break away from the top bolt.

      She huddled down in the corner of the farthest bunk bed. Suddenly there was an ear-splitting splintering of wood, and the door banged open with such ferocity Shelby couldn't hold back her gasp of horror and fear.

      Heavy fur framed the aggressive face, cold grey eyes turned on her in total assessment. ‘Why the hell didn't you open the goddamned door?’ Kyle Whitney grated in harsh condemnation, throwing back the furred hood of his thick jacket to reveal his overlong dark hair, snow-coated at the front of it.

      Shelby only had time to recognise him before the faintness became a black fog and she fell backwards on the bed in total collapse, still unsure whether her unexpected visitor was a predator or friend…

      She was still lying on the bunk bed when she woke up, although she had been moved into a more comfortable position, a heavy down quilt placed on top of her to keep her warm.

      Her panicked gaze flew across the room, hardly daring to move as she once again recognised the harshly glowering profile of Kyle Whitney as he stared into the flames of the roaring fire. He looked more human now, the heavy jacket removed, the frozen snow that had clung to his face and hair now melted, leaving his hair curling damply against his forehead and ears, hair that although carelessly styled grew overlong to the dark sweater he wore. He was drinking what smelt like coffee, his narrow-eyed attention fixed sightlessly on the fire as he took huge swallows of the warming brew. He looked hard and unapproachable, much as he had the first time she had seen him two weeks ago.

      She had met Kenny Whitney in London six months ago, an accidental meeting when he had called to collect one of the girls who worked in the salon. He had come back to the salon many times after that first meeting, but to see Shelby now, and not Anne. The other girl accepted the loss of his attention with shrugging nonchalance, quickly finding herself another companion. Shelby found it less easy to adapt to this change of affections, refusing all Kenny's invitations with a cool disdain she hoped would quickly dissuade him. It hadn't. His pursuit of her had been relentless and persistent, so much so that after she had watched him stand outside her flat in the rain for over an hour one evening she had finally relented and invited him in.

      He had stayed several hours that evening, the two of them discussing everything and nothing, Shelby finding his life that was so different from her own very interesting, Kenny in London on a year's agricultural course, his cousin and partner back in Montana running the ranch in his absence. Kenny's life was everything she had ever read life on a ranch could be, and he was everything she would have expected a modern-day cowboy to be, rugged, tough, and very decisive. So decisive, in fact, that when he asked her to see him again she found herself agreeing, her earlier reluctance forgotten under the warmth of his slow charm.

      The next two months had been the happiest she had known for a long time, Kenny insisting they meet whenever they could, his passionate but undemanding loving just what she needed to make her respond to him as she had to no man since Gavin.

      And then the two months had ended, and with it Kenny's time in England, his presence now needed back in Montana. Shelby had done her best to hide her disappointment, knowing she was going to miss him. Nevertheless, she was surprised when he asked her to go back to Montana with him. She hadn't accepted him, of course. It was only a year since she had lost Gavin, another serious relationship was out of the question just yet.

      But Kenny had been persistent, even from a distance, writing to her constantly,