Midnight Sun (18 page)

“He came out here because he’s impulsive. Reckless. You should know that.”

She drew back as if he’d slapped her. “You don’t know me.”

He softened his tone. “You’re right. I don’t. I’m sorry. But you don’t know Marcus. He doesn’t think before he acts. Witness this ‘rescue’ effort.”

She stiffened. “It wasn’t his fault we went down.”

“It’s never his fault.”

His tone was bitter. Sibling jealousy? Marcus was the youngest, and Harris seemed to carry all the responsibility. But Marcus was changing. Did Harris see that? Or did he not want to?

“A good thing you’re injured,” she said through her teeth. “Marcus took charge on the ship, made sure I was safe, made sure everyone was safe. I know you don’t think he takes initiative, but he took charge. He risked his life to save the others.”

“He risks his life all the time, that’s what he gets off on. That, and making bad decisions.”

She felt like her molars would grind to powder. She rocked back on her heels. “You know, you’re ungrateful. I thought you were different when I talked to you on the phone. I thought maybe Marcus saw what he wanted to see when he said you judged him hard. Now I think maybe it’s you who only sees what he wants to see.”

She rose in one movement and pivoted away, almost stumbling over George, and looked into Marcus’s hooded eyes. He’d probably heard all of that. Silently he turned back toward their nest. She followed, her stomach tight in anticipation of what he might say, but he said nothing, just held up the blanket for her to slide beneath. But he made no move to take her back into his arms.

Damn, it was getting hard not to fall asleep, even with the pain that throbbed constantly in his leg. Marcus lifted his head from where it rested against the side of the plane and jostled Brylie, whose breathing had slowed.

“Wake up.”

“’M awake,” she muttered, but he’d lay odds she hadn’t been.

The plane was bloody frigid. The wind had died, but he knew from experience that only made the temperature drop. He folded his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer, though he’d been pretty pissed at her for talking to Harris about him earlier. She had no right to talk to his brother—and no business defending him. Harris had been right that she didn’t know him. She didn’t know what a screw-up he was. She didn’t need another screw-up in her life. He should have thought about that before, but hadn’t thought anything would happen after their night in Hobart. Now…he couldn’t think of anything except their future.

“How long have we been here now?” she asked, turning her face into his throat. Her nose was icy.

“Five hours, just about.”

“Probably we should move around to keep warm.”

“Check on the others, anyway.”

“You could try the satellite phone again, see if you can raise the ship, see if they’ve heard anything.”

They had been able to make a garbled call to the ship to let them know the situation, but hadn’t heard back. The phone battery was draining quickly in the cold, and that scared the hell out of him. He pushed back the blanket, then struggled to his feet, grabbing onto the back of the seat when his leg wanted to collapse beneath him. “Christ.” He beat his gloved hands against his chest, then reached down to help her to her feet.

“You check on our patients,” she said. “Wake up Carl and George. I’ll make the call.”

Because using the phone meant walking out of the plane to get reception. He opened his mouth to protest, but the way his leg was rebelling, he’d have to let her. He might make it to the end of the plane, but coming back would be a different story. So he’d play nursemaid while she called for help.

He was rousing Carl when she returned up the aisle, shaking her head.

“I could go to the helicopter and use the radio there.”

He straightened so fast he hit his head on the overhead compartment, and his leg screamed in agony. “No. you’re not. We have the beacons. They’ll find us. They’re on their way. We just have to wait.”

She lifted an eyebrow and he realized he was being the cautious one.

“I can see the helicopter from here,” she said.

“Distances are deceiving in this landscape. And if anything happens to you, none of us can come to your aid. We stay here. We wait. Move the bedding over here. We’re going to have to use our body heat to help these guys. I can’t wake George up.”

He could see the tension in her shoulders that told him she wanted to act. He understood that too well, but that she was the healthiest made him uneasy. If rescue didn’t arrive soon, she might be required to do something that would put her at risk, and he couldn’t protect her.

She moved the bedding to the door of the cockpit, close to the lantern giving off stingy heat. Once she was settled, she roused George enough to get him to eat a power bar and sip some bottled water, while Marcus got Carl to move next to Harris, to keep him warm.

“I wish we had coffee or something,” Marcus muttered.

“Have you ever had hypothermia?” she asked, settling into the new nest of blankets, her legs drawn up so she wouldn’t jostle Harris’s.

He looped his arms around her so her back was against his chest. “Nah. The worst time was when a group of us got stranded on a mountain for a few hours. Storm blew in, rescue couldn’t come. We found an outcropping of rock and huddled together. Got to know my mates real well that night.”

She shifted so her cheek rested against his shoulder. “You did?”

“Yeah, we, ah, well, the rescuers told us we did the right thing using body heat, keeping our cores warm.”

She wriggled her hips between his thighs. “How exactly did you use body heat?”

“We stripped down to our shirts and huddled close, using our coats to cover us up. And we had coffee.”

She looked over at Harris, still unconscious despite Marcus’s attempts to wake him—including tossing insults at him. “You may have to get to know your brother just as well.”

He scowled but nodded. “Carl and George can be on this side, and you, Harris and I can be on the other. Whatever you do, don’t go to sleep, all right?”

Marcus insisted Brylie stay on the aisle, closer to the lantern for warmth. As much as he wanted to stretch out beside her, his brother needed her heat more. For a few minutes after crawling under the cotton blankets covered by the space blanket, Marcus actually felt warm. He reached across his brother’s body and closed his hand around Brylie’s forearm. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Her teeth chattered.

“Don’t go to sleep.”

She nodded. “I know. So talk to me. Tell me about the time you won the bronze.”

“Oh, hell.” He stroked his fingertips over her sleeve, wishing he could touch her skin, could feel her heart beat against his. “There was nothing special about that run.”

“You won the medal.”

“Yeah, but it was a run I’d done a hundred times. I just didn’t make any mistakes.”

“You really didn’t have a desire to be the best when you started?”

He chuckled. “I have never in my life had a desire to be the best.” If Harris was awake he would confirm that without hesitation.

“Why not?”

“Why?” He laughed through his nose. “It’s a hell of a lot of pressure. Who needs it?” He peered through the dim light. “You need it.”

She frowned. “So you don’t feel that drive in you? Why did you compete?”

“My friends were trying out. I tried out. I made the team. Some of my mates didn’t.”

She winced. “Did that cause bad blood?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, some. The whole silver-platter thing, you know? If I hadn’t tried out, maybe they would have gotten in. Who’s to say?”

“Maybe that’s why you’re not all that thrilled with winning. Guilt?”

He laughed out loud this time. “I’ve never felt guilty for anything in my life until I met you.”

“Maybe you have but just don’t know it.”

He blew out a dismissive snort. He’d been an egotistical, entitled brat and he knew it. He also knew he didn’t want to be that person anymore, didn’t want to think about what an ass he’d been. Which was why he didn’t like to talk about his snowboarding days. “So anyway, I trained, I developed a run, I executed, I won. Well, came in third.”

“And became the bad boy of snowboarding.”

He chuckled. “I’d have to get a lot worse to hold that title. Some of those blokes are off their rockers.”

“But you’re here because you punched someone in the face.”

“For being a jackass. I would have done the same if I hadn’t been a snowboarder.”

“What did he do that made him a jackass?”

“He was hitting on a girl, she didn’t want anything to do with him and kept telling him so. He wasn’t listening. I thought I’d help him hear what she was saying. He didn’t listen to me, either. He swung first and missed. I didn’t.”

“And you got arrested.”

“Wasn’t my first time.”

“Yeah?” He heard the smile in her voice. “What else?”

“What you’d think. Bad behavior. Vandalism, criminal mischief. No DUIs or drugs, if you’re worried about that. Have you ever been arrested?”

She laughed. “No, though I imagine Lily wouldn’t have minded seeing me in jail for something or another. I’m surprised she didn’t try it.”

He linked his gloved hand with hers and wished he could feel her skin. “Not something I would recommend.”

“Did you get a boyfriend?” she teased.

It was his turn to laugh. “I wasn’t there that long, thanks to Harris here. Couple of hours. I had one picked out, though. Big tattooed guy.”

“You would have been cute together.”

Something in her voice alarmed him. “Don’t go to sleep, Brylie.”

“’M not.”

“Brylie!” he said sharply.

“I’m awake.”

“I’ll pinch you.”

“Marcus. I’m fine.” But her voice was slurred.

He shifted closer against the fuselage. “Get over here. Between me and Harris.”

“I don’t want to move.” Her voice carried a hint of a whine, like a child who didn’t want to be put down for a nap. “Besides, he’s hurt. He needs our heat.”

“He’ll get it again after we warm you up. Come here, Brylie.”

She shifted and rose, her movements slow, which scared the hell out of him until he realized she was being careful not to jostle Harris. She eased between the brothers and nestled her cold nose against his throat. Her gloved hands slid inside his coat and wrapped around his back.

“You’re warm.”

He pounded her hard enough to make her pull away to look at him.

“Ow! I’m awake.”

“See that you stay that way. You tell me a story now.”

“I don’t have any good stories. I can’t think, Marcus, don’t make me think.” She snuggled deeper into him.

But he had to make her think. That was the only thing to keep her awake. “Where do you live in the off-season?”

“I told you that the night we met.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Because you had one thing on your mind.”

He rubbed his hand down her back. “Can you blame me? Did you see yourself in that outfit?”

“I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt.”

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

She looked up at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He shouldn’t have said anything. He didn’t want to reveal too much, even in the interest of keeping her alert. “All that pretty red hair. I don’t usually go for redheads, but it looked so soft.”

She reached up to touch it. “My hair.”

“And your skin. So smooth. And you looked—sad.”

“I didn’t think sad was a turn-on.”

“Not a turn-on.” He shifted and drew her closer. “It just—you asked why I approached you.”

“You didn’t ask me why I was sad. Which I wasn’t.”

“I didn’t really want to know why—I just didn’t want you to be sad anymore.”

“So you took me to your room to cheer me up?” Laughter colored her voice.

“Something like that.” He brushed his lips over her forehead and felt himself grow hard at the memory of taking her hand in his and leading her into his room. “Why did you come?”

She drew in a breath, like he didn’t already know it had been out of the ordinary to accept a man’s invitation to go to bed. “I guess I wanted to feel something and you had this look in your eyes that promised I’d definitely feel something.”

He chuckled. At least she was awake now. “I hope I lived up to that.”

“I’m not indulging in ego-stroking today.” She smiled, then ducked her head back under his chin. “And I live in San Francisco. I have a friend with a restaurant there. It’s not a grand place and it doesn’t pay great, but enough for me to live in the city and rebuild my reputation.”

He didn’t let himself examine the pang in his stomach at her words. Instead, he said what he would have said to any girl he’d shared a casual night with, like that was all she was to him. “If you want a recommendation when we get back, I can do that. My family’s not without some pull.”

She stiffened. “I don’t want anyone to think I got my reputation by sleeping with the ship’s owner.”

Huh. She was alert now, and her pride was pricked. He would have gone for that first if he’d known it would work. Still, he regretted taking those measures, losing the softness of her tone, the sweetness of the memory of their night together. “But you work for a friend. Is it that different?”

Before she could answer he heard something outside the plane, and put his hand over her mouth. When she protested, he shushed her, which made her more indignant.

“Listen!” he ordered.

She stilled, and then wriggled again as she heard it, too. Approaching engines. Not a plane, though.

He used the seat to pull himself to his feet—okay, his foot, since his right leg would no longer take his weight, “Snowmobiles,” he said.

“That’s weird.” She’d risen behind him. “They can’t carry out injured people on—”

The engines died and Marcus found himself holding his breath waiting to see who had come for them. Brylie tried to push past him, but he held out an arm to hold her back. Something wasn’t right. Relief had him slumping his shoulders when Michael and Evan, Jimmy’s two friends, stepped through the opening of the plane.

“Thank God you guys are here. We have three injured, one dead—”

“And Marcus hurt his leg when we went down,” Brylie added, edging up to stand beside him. “Is a plane or helicopter coming, because I don’t think they can ride out on snowmobiles.” She motioned to the men behind her.