Maggie walked over to stand beside Mace. The canoe was covered with leaves and moss, and strung with spider webs. She brushed some of the pine needles from the weathered surface.
This does not bode well
.
“When was the last time you took it out?” Mace asked.
Maggie could tell Robert didn’t want to answer them. “I take it out all the time. All the time.”
“Yeah, right,” Mace muttered.
She looked up, meeting his eyes. She kept her voice low. “We’re gonna die, aren’t we?”
Mace sighed. “No, we’re not going to die. I may have to stop myself from beating the shit out of Robert, but we’re not going to die.”
Maggie swallowed a nervous giggle.
“So,” interrupted Robert, “let’s get your canoe over to the dock. I want to load the canoes and the gear on my old fishing boat tonight so we can leave at dawn.” He glanced at his watch. “We have about an hour before supper.”
Maggie stayed out of the way as Mace and Robert maneuvered the canoe off the cement blocks and down the pathway toward the dock. She followed for a time, but turned off the main trail to hike along a narrow path leading into the woods. It really was very pretty on the island. Lynn had told her there were wolves, bears, white-tailed deer, moose, beavers, coyotes, hawks, eagles, owls. She hoped she would see some wildlife on this trip.
Well, wildlife other than Robert and Patty
.
Remember, you’re not a great judge of people. Look how many times you’ve messed up. People you thought were the best thing since sliced bread have turned out to be total losers. Look at your own father. You adored him and he vanished from your life without giving you a second thought. Maybe Robert and Patty are really nice folks with a few odd habits. Give them time. Who knows? Patty is probably stressed out by having visitors and maybe Robert is nothing more than a harmless eccentric. You’ve dealt with plenty of eccentric people, you can deal with this.
A squirrel ran across the path, darting into the thick forest. How far had she walked from the main house? It couldn’t be very far, but Maggie realized that once you’d gone into the trees, the growth was so thick you couldn’t see a single landmark. She’d have to pay attention on this trip or she could get lost looking for a place to pee.
This arboreal forest really is impressive
. She stood still, listening for the sound of the water lapping against the shore, a conversation from the cabin, any sound of civilization, but she heard nothing other than the voices of the forest—birdsong, the chirps and cheeping of chipmunks and squirrels, and the rush of the wind through the high branches.
I can’t be that far from the lake, yet I can’t see it or hear it at all
.
Wow
.
I wish Mace was standing beside me. Where did that thought come from?
Maggie shivered despite the afternoon warmth and the heavy, humid, Minnesota air.
I’m just tired. And why would you be tired? Hmm? Yeah, that’s right, that’s where Mace comes from...from the most amazing night of your entire life, you sex-starved dummy. He’ll be in your bed tonight. Want to make him another offer?
Maggie shivered again.
No. You’ll do no such thing. Keep your offers to yourself
.
Yeah, but…no buts. Keep your mouth shut.
Having grown up in a heavily wooded area, Maggie had no difficulty backtracking and making her way along the main trail to the cabin. She decided to take advantage of the fact that Mace and Robert were loading the canoes and the gear. Jeff had apparently been encouraged or coerced into helping out, so that left only Lynn and Patty in the cabin. Now was a good time to get in her last shower for five days, and she didn’t have to risk an audience.
Remember, take your towel
.
* * * *
Mace sat in the small chair beside the bed, reading by penlight. He glanced over at Maggie curled up in bed, pretending to sleep. She wore a pair of his boxers and one of his T-shirts. She’d forgotten to pack any pajamas and she’d asked him, red-faced, if she could borrow something. She didn’t want to ask Patty for anything.
Can’t say that I blame her
.
The woman’s a nutcase
.
He watched Maggie turn over for the twentieth time. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” She mumbled the word into the pillow and flipped over again, facing away from him.
Mace set the penlight down. He swiveled from his chair and sat on the edge of the bed. He didn’t touch her. His fists clenched involuntarily. It was hard to be this close to Maggie without touching her. “What’s wrong?”
Maggie sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. Her face was a mere shadow in the dimly lit room. “I can’t…I can’t remember the color of my napkin.”
Mace burst into laughter. “What?”
Maggie pressed her knee against his hip. “Quit laughing at me. I can’t remember the color of my napkin. Weren’t you listening at dinner? Patty said we have to remember the color of our napkin so we’ll know where to sit for breakfast. What color is my napkin, Mace?”
“Oh god, you little idiot. You’re worried about that? I have no idea what color your napkin is. I don’t know what color my napkin is. I wasn’t paying attention to a single word that came out of that woman’s mouth.”
“What are we going to do, Mace? How will we know where to sit?”
Mace laughed again. “We’ll just wait for everyone else to sit down and then we’ll take the two remaining seats. It’s no big deal.”
“No, Mace, it is a big deal.” He could hear how close to tears she was.
“Maggie…” Mace laid her back down on the bed and rolled over her so that he was on the side nearest the railing. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his body, cradling her. “I don’t believe you’re worried about the color of your napkin. What’s really bothering you?”
A quiet sob escaped her. “I don’t…I don’t like these people, Mace, and I have a bad, bad feeling about this trip. Robert keeps repeating that he grew up here, that he knows more about the Boundary Waters than anyone, but no matter how often he says it, I don’t believe him.”
Mace swallowed his laughter. He didn’t think there was anything to worry about, other than the giant annoyance factor that hovered around Robert and Patty like a black cloud, but Maggie seemed really upset. Smoothing the short curls from her face, he pulled her closer. “It’ll be okay, Maggie. I promise.”
She turned in his arms and faced him, her tempting lips close to his. “You promise?”
The urge to kiss her almost overwhelmed him, but he held perfectly still. “Yes, Maggie, I promise.” Unable to stop, he ran the pad of his finger back and forth along her pouting lower lip, wondering if she’d pull away. She didn’t.
“Promise me something else,” she whispered.
“Anything.”
“If something bad happens, you’ll get us out of there.”
Mace looked into her eyes, wondering if she was joking. She was dead serious. “Maggie, I swear to you that if anything goes wrong, I will get us out of there.”
She pulled her hand from beneath the blankets and touched his face with light fingers. “Thanks. Sorry, I’m not usually like this.”
“Like what?” He kept his voice soft, soothing. His hand caressed the small of her back.
She sighed. “Emotional. Weepy. Nervous.”
“I know, Maggie. It’s okay. I think you just need some sleep. We both do. Close your eyes.” He reached over her to switch off his penlight. As he did so, she grabbed his arm.
“I know I said I didn’t want to share the bed with you, but would you mind staying right here? I think I’ll sleep better if you…well…just be careful not to fall over that railing. Maybe keep an arm around me so I’ll wake up if you get too close to the edge…please?”
Mace kissed her forehead. “I’ll stay right here. And I swear I won’t fall over the railing. I’m just shutting off the light. Okay?”
Maggie nodded. With a yawn, she lay back on the pillow. Mace shut off the light and Maggie snuggled against him, reminding him once again of a warm, cuddly, little kitten. When she let down her guard, she could be very sweet. Mace had discovered that beneath the prickly exterior was a very vulnerable woman. After a few moments, he felt her body relax. Her breathing grew soft and even, and he sensed she’d drifted off to sleep. Mace didn’t know if her sudden trust in him was because the situation was crazy and he seemed sane in comparison, or because she was just stressed and overtired, but he didn’t care. It was a beginning.
So what if I have to try to sleep with a raging hard-on? I’ve got her in my arms
.
Chapter Eight
The morning dawned cold, wet, and gray. They were out on the water for the grueling forty-minute ride to the drop-off point, the fishing boat rolling sickeningly in the white caps, as the group of four huddled in the middle with the gear to balance the craft. Mace made sure to keep Maggie behind him. Her hair was already plastered to her head and he knew the windbreaker she wore would only keep the rain off for so long.
What the hell is wrong with us, that we agreed to this?
Maggie had been very subdued during breakfast, picking at her food, barely touching her coffee, from the pot of coffee he’d had to wrestle from Patty’s control. He couldn’t tell if she was upset or angry. And if she was, he wondered if she was angry at him. She’d awakened in his arms, one of her long legs thrown over his hip, his erection cradled in the juncture between her thighs. She’d groaned and stretched, rubbing against him, and then seemed to remember where she was, pulling away from him as if she’d forgotten all about the talk they’d had the night before. Before they left in the boat, he’d seen her standing on the redwood deck in a heated discussion with Lynn. He’d wondered what it was about. When he’d asked Jeff, his brother shrugged and said something about Maggie wanting to return to Minneapolis today instead of heading out into the wilderness. Lynn had apparently convinced her to go on the canoe trip.
Despite Robert’s babbling about the weather report he’d supposedly heard, and how the weather was guaranteed to improve by noon, current conditions didn’t bode well for the trip. Even Mace was beginning to get a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, that there was something very off about Robert and Patty. Robert had gone over the map repeatedly with both of them, talking about distances, landmarks, campsites. As far as Mace was concerned, everything looked alike—twisting waterways and wooded shorelines. Sometimes the exposed bedrock appeared a little different, but to his eyes, that was about it. With the heavy cloud cover, he couldn’t even tell which direction they were headed.
He turned and put his mouth against Maggie’s ear. “Are you warm enough?”
She looked up at him. “Not really, but I’ll warm up as soon as we start paddling.”
“Are you clear on where we’re going? I don’t have a bloody clue where we’re headed.”
Her smile was wan. Shooting a quick glance at Robert and Patty, she whispered, “Weren’t you paying attention to Robert’s multiple lectures? We’re going to a marked drop-off point on the official border of the BWCA, the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. We’ll unload this boat, load our gear into the canoes, paddle about a half-mile to the portage…”
“Portage?” Mace interrupted.
“You really weren’t paying any attention, were you? The portage is where we pull up onto the shore, unload the canoes, carry them maybe two or three city blocks over a trail that leads into the wilderness, and then we reload and paddle off into parts unknown.”
Mace tugged his baseball cap down. It kept threatening to blow into the lake. “How far did he say we are paddling today?”
“Eight miles to the campsite, and if it’s taken…” She shrugged.
Mace turned and faced forward again.
Eight miles in this wind in that unwieldy Grumman? We’ll be lucky to make half that distance.