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.Suddenly the beam from the flashlight behind her began to swing crazily—as if its bearer were running, she realized, moving correspondingly faster.She was almost to the edge of the branches when the light disappeared altogether.A moment later a body hurtled into hers, tackling her and landing them both in the cold, wet mud.Anne went down face first, spread-eagled, as his body landed on top of hers, and she felt a sharp stinging in her face before the cold mud covered her.A moment later he had rolled her over.It was too dark to see his expression as he loomed over her, but the furious sound of his voice was bad enough.“You criminally stupid idiot!” he shouted at her.“Didn’t you hear me calling you?” Cruelly strong hands dug into her shoulders, yanking her into a sitting position for the sole purpose of shaking her.“I don’t like being ordered!” she screamed back through rattling teeth and the strong night wind.“Would you rather I let you run into the power line that’s about two feet away?” he yelled back.“You may have a death wish today but I have no desire to be a witness.”All the fight left her.“Power line?” she echoed.“I dropped the flashlight trying to save your stupid neck or I’d show it to you.”“Oh, God.”“Oh, God, indeed.” He rose to his feet, hauling her shivering body along with him.“Come on.” His tone of voice had softened perceptibly, and she followed him blindly, her cold wet hand still clasped in his.“Where are we going?” she murmured, completely cowed.“Out of this damned rain.One thing’s for certain—no one’s either leaving or coming in here tonight.That tree has blocked the driveway, and there’s another one down on the far side of it.”“But what if Proffy decided to come home after all?” she fretted.“He won’t be able to get anywhere near the power line unless he’s a lot more agile than he appears to be.”“He’s not.Proffy abhors physical exercise in all forms.” Anne told herself that relief should be utmost in her mind, but as she glanced at the lean, rain-soaked figure beside her she found herself wishing that the fates hadn’t chosen tonight of all nights to bless them with a power outage and a house cut off from the outside world.The wet mud was caked to her legs, her arms, had even found its insidious way up inside the loose poncho when he tackled her.“Are you as muddy as I am?” she questioned in a husky voice as they reentered the darkened house.In answer Noah reached into his pocket and withdrew a pack of matches.He lit one, the flickering light illuminating an expression on his face that was no long angry, just wryly amused, and Anne could imagine exactly what she looked like.“No one could be as muddy as you are,” he declared.“Then I get dibs on the shower.We’ve lost our power before—I know from sad experience that there’s only enough water pressure for one decent shower.You can make do in the kitchen sink.”“I don’t think I’ll fit,” he drawled.“There are candles in the drawer by the sink,” she continued, ignoring him.“What about you?”“I always keep them around in each bedroom, just in case this happens.I’ll meet you back in the library when I’ve scraped off the first few layers of Jersey dirt.I…I’m afraid I dropped the dinner.”“I remember.” He shook the match out just as it was about to burn him, and once more they were plunged into darkness.Anne could feel the warmth of his body heat so very near her, the heat of his breath on her upturned face, the very sexy smell of fresh rain and yes, mud, on his skin.His voice dropped to a lower note in keeping with the intimacy of the darkened space.“I’m sure we can rustle up something from the refrigerator if we’re hungry.”She felt his hands on her shoulders, and she flinched nervously.Instead of pulling back he strengthened his grip, the long fingers digging gently into her shoulders, kneading away some of the tension.“I’m not going to hurt you, Annie, love,” he said gently.Oh, yes, you are, she responded silently, resigned as she stared at him through the pitch blackness.She could only make out his outline, but she knew exactly what his expression would be.That achingly sweet smile coupled with the blazing warmth of those magical eyes.It was a good thing she couldn’t see his face, she realized belatedly.The darkness was her only defense against a man she wanted far too much.“Go on up and take your shower,” he murmured when the silence between them had stretched almost to the breaking point.And without another word she turned and fled through the darkened house.It was like a litany murmured under her breath as she quickly undressed in the candlelit bathroom.“Wilson,” she murmured.The name failed to conjure anything more than a disapproving glare from his blandly handsome face.Kicking the rain-and mud-soaked clothing into the corner, she ran some of her precious water supply into a washcloth.“Nialla,” she tried, and the sudden vision of Noah’s dark-haired wife swam into her mind.A beautiful, dark-haired witch, willful and pregnant with Noah’s longed-for child.Dead, leaving him to mourn with only half a heart.The eyes that stared back at her from the mirror were filled with a sadness still touched with her unwilling longing.She winced as the washcloth danced too roughly across her cheek.Peering through the candlelight, she gazed with awe on the rich purpling bruise on her right cheekbone.She must have hit her face on a rock when she went down, she mused, remembering with unwilling warmth the feel of his body on top of hers.Something she’d felt too many times, and not enough.Not completely.The shower was gloriously hot and forceful as she stepped under the heavy stream.There was nothing she would have liked better than to have stood there beneath the pounding water until all those sweetly seductive fantasies left her
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