Still Lake - Anne Stuart [94]
He’d cut his way in with the hunting knife he held in his hand. It glinted silver in the moonlight, not stained with blood and rust like the one she’d found in Grace’s drawer. It was a new one. Maybe this was the first time he’d get to use it.
She tried to back away from him, but the bushes were all around her, trapping her. The moon was bright overhead, and she could see him quite clearly, the calm efficiency, the determination as he sliced his way toward her with that huge, sharp blade.
And he’d be able to see the total panic in her eyes as he finally reached her, and the glittering knife slashed through the night. She opened her mouth to scream, but the only sound that came out was a breathless, terrified squeak.
19
“That sounds like the noise you make when you come,” he said in a conversational voice, slashing away at the branches trapping her. She heard the ripping sound of fabric as he sliced through the long hem of her skirt, but she couldn’t even utter a protest, just stood there frozen as he cut around her.
And then she was free of the branches. With Griffin blocking her avenue of escape, his eyes glittering like the blade of the knife. “Come on,” he said.
“That’s not the way I got here,” she said with a croak.
“No, you took the long way. I came in by the gazebo.”
“What gazebo?”
He didn’t answer, she didn’t move. After a moment he lifted his arm, and she closed her eyes, expecting the knife to slash down. Instead he grabbed her hand and began hauling her through the rough path he’d cleared.
He was moving too quickly, and she had a hard time keeping up with him, but she knew she had no choice. Maybe once they were out in the open she’d be able to escape. Doc wasn’t that far away—he could help her. She just needed the moonlight to guide her.
The damned moon went behind a cloud, plunging them into darkness. She stumbled after him, falling against him, as she stepped free of the thorny bushes.
He caught her, both hands on her arms, and she wondered where the knife had gone. He didn’t release her, and his grip was strong, holding her, keeping her from escaping. She couldn’t tell whether it was threatening or protecting.
Moonlight, she prayed silently. Just a tiny bit of moonlight, enough to guide her away from this frightening man, back to safety. That was all she needed. Please God, some moonlight.
As if on cue, the moon came out again, bright and clear, and there was no way she could get away from him. They were at the edge of a small clearing, a spot she’d never seen even in her exploratory walks. A long picnic table sat in the middle of the space, though the chairs were gone, and the turrets of a fanciful gazebo loomed against the night sky.
“You’re a mess,” he said, pulling her into the open space. “This is getting to be a habit.”
“What is?” She sounded just as normal as he did. Bizarre, she thought distantly.
“Rescuing you.”
“Is that what this is? A rescue? I thought you were trying to kill me. Did you change your mind?”
“I was trying to scare some sense into you,” he said. His grip on her arms tightened suddenly, almost painfully, as he lifted her and set her on the picnic table. And then he let go of her, and if he’d just move, just turn his back for a moment, she could run…
“I wouldn’t try it if I were you,” he said, reading her mind. “This place is hard enough to get out of in the daylight, even if you’re used to it. You run off again and I’ll end up cutting your entire dress off. Which isn’t such a bad idea at that. Feel free to go for it,” he said helpfully, stepping back.
She looked down at her dress. It was now officially a rag—the hem was ripped and tattered around her long legs. She’d lost her shoes in her mad dash for the bushes, but at least she’d spent a lot of time barefoot that summer. Her feet would survive.
That is, if the rest of her did. She tried to take a calming breath, but it was hard going. Her heart was still racing, her breath coming unevenly from her crazy dash through the