Where The Heart Is. Kate Hardy
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she found herself nodding. ‘Thanks.’
He waited until they were out of the refugio before asking, ‘So how come someone who’s “done some first aid” knows rather more than the average person about treating hypothermia? Are you on a mountain rescue team somewhere?’
‘No. I…’ She sighed. ‘OK. I’m a qualified doctor, too.’
‘How come the organising team didn’t know that?’
‘Because I don’t want to be responsible for other people. I’m here to walk, raise money.’
‘Mmm-hmm. And that’s why you waded right in just now.’
‘You were the one in the water,’ she pointed out.
‘Don’t split hairs.’ He gave her a sidelong look. ‘That’s the thing about being a doctor. You never quite switch off, do you?’
‘I suppose not,’ she admitted.
They walked in silence to her tent—a silence which grew tenser by the second. Rowena was beginning to find it hard to breathe. All she could think of was how it would feel to have his mouth covering hers. Hell. This was the last thing she needed. She dragged in a breath. ‘Thanks for walking me back.’
‘Least I could do.’
She hadn’t intended to meet his eyes. By starlight, they were very dark and very intense. And his mouth wasn’t that far from hers. She saw the instant he realised it, too, and she moved away before he could make the thought reality. ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said, knowing she was being a coward, and ducked into the safety of her tent.
ROWENA was a doctor, just like he was. So why hadn’t she said anything before? She’d claimed that she didn’t want to be responsible for others, but he didn’t believe that. When you were a doctor, being responsible for others was part of the territory. And hadn’t she stepped in to help when she’d been needed?
Maybe she was shy. He’d noticed that she either chatted to Carly or stayed on the sidelines of the group, not saying much. He didn’t think she wasn’t being snobby or standoffish—it was almost as if she didn’t know how to mix in, had never been taught how to be part of a group.
Not that it was any of his business. He should just follow her lead and back off.
Except he was sure she felt the same.
And he couldn’t back off. Something drew him to her. The same something that gave him the kind of dreams he really didn’t want to wake from. Maybe, Luke thought the next morning, as he gulped a cup of viciously strong coffee in a vain attempt to clear his head, maybe he just needed to get it out of his system. And hers.
Maybe it would be good for both of them. No strings attached, no promises, no broken hearts. She’d lost someone close, too, so maybe this was a way of helping them both heal. Let the barriers down, let the pain out, let themselves move on instead of being stuck in regret and mourning and loss.
Maybe.
Stephen was up and about at breakfast and seemed none the worse for his adventure the night before. Rowena smiled at him and Melissa, gulped her coffee and disappeared before anyone in that little group could hail her as a hero. She hadn’t done that much after all.
When they started the next part of the hike, the forest was cool and damp, and Rowena was glad of her waterproof jacket. The scramble up to the top was easy—but the view of the lake and the glacier took Rowena’s breath away. She’d expected the glacier to be white or grey, but it shimmered in different shades of blue, huge vertical waves and peaks of frozen ice, as if a choppy sea had been frozen in mid-wave. The lake itself was grey, which she’d read was due to the mineral content of the water. Obviously the glacier was named after the lake.
She could hear a rumbling, crashing noise in the distance. She couldn’t place it at first, and then she realised that small bergs were ‘calving’ from the Grey Glacier and falling into the lake. The wind was driving the smaller bergs down to the shoreline. The smallest lumps of ice were white, but the larger pieces were bright blue, like the glacier.
‘It’s stunning,’ she breathed.
‘The southern part of the Patagonian Ice Field,’ Luke said, his voice filled with pride. ‘It’s the largest ice field in the world.’
Ice, ice, everywhere—and not a single bit of it could cool her body’s reaction to him. Panic made her want to run, but she knew that would be stupid. Immature. Maybe a neutral conversation would help ease the pressure. And didn’t English people always talk about the weather? ‘I thought ice was clear or white.’
‘It is when there’s air in it and the pressure’s low. In a glacier, the weight of the ice causes major pressure within the ice, and that’s why it’s blue. The bigger blocks end up in coves and inlets; as they melt, the density of the ice slowly decreases and they lose their colour.’
‘And I thought they were supposed to move really slowly.’
‘Glaciers, or icebergs? The glacier’s receding at a rate of just over three centimetres a day. New caves and crevasses form every day—so every time I come here, it looks different.’ He sounded wistful.
He was standing close enough to touch her. All she had to do was take a step backwards and she’d be in his arms. She could almost feel the pressure of his body against hers, the warmth leaping out between them. What would it feel like to curl her fingers through his hair? Her hands almost itched with the urge to touch him, to pull his head down to hers and touch her lips to his.
But that would be a seriously stupid move. She didn’t do flings. Didn’t do for evers. Didn’t do relationships, full stop.
She mumbled some excuse about needing to see one of the others, and stepped away. But she was aware of every move he made on the way back. And even though she was sitting on the opposite side of the dining room that evening, during their customary meal of soup, hot tea and stew, it felt as if she was right next to him.
Why couldn’t she get him out of her head?
The worst thing was, the one time she caught his gaze, his eyes were saying exactly the same thing. Hot, dark, full of passion. Passion he kept reined in—but it was there. And she knew it was all for her.
Ah, hell. Maybe she should break a rule. Just this once. Let somebody get close to her. And maybe she shouldn’t. Who knew if one night would be enough, for either of them? And it wasn’t fair to start something she couldn’t finish.
It was another clear night, so Rowena sat at the edge of the lake to watch the stars, wrapped in a scarf and gloves and a thick jacket. Last night, when Stephen had fallen into the lake and she’d been caught up in the rescue, she hadn’t had the time to pinpoint the Southern Cross. Tonight Stephen and his friends were safely inside the refugio—and, she noticed, they hadn’t touched a single drop of alcohol. So tonight she’d be able to enjoy these moments on her own.
The sky was so very different from home. Darker, without the light pollution that usually lightened the city sky. The stars were sharper, more intense, and the constellations unfamiliar. And then she saw it: the Southern Cross.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ a soft voice asked.
She should have guessed that Luke would follow her out here. They’d been avoiding each other all day, ever since the glacier—but every time they’d looked up, they’d met each other’s gaze. ‘Mmm.’
‘Would you rather be alone?’
Yes. No. Both. She shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
He sat on the rocks next to her, close but not actually touching. ‘At least we shouldn’t have to rescue anyone tonight. That’s something. Did you enjoy the glacier?’ She’d joined the group which had trekked right to