The blankness in her expression concerned him. The shaking hadn’t stop and had in fact gotten worse as reaction seemed to settle in. She shook so hard that her knees buckled, and she would have gone down if he hadn’t tightened his grip on her arms to keep her standing upright.
With a curse, he hauled her toward the couch and sat her down. He left her long enough to grab a blanket and then he wrapped it gently around her, gathering the ends under her chin so she would be warm.
Her lips quivered and she closed her eyes, her face crumpling. She lowered her head, and her shoulders hunched inward as if she was closing herself off from the world.
He sat beside her and pulled her into his arms, holding her against him so his warmth would bleed into her too-cold skin. Ignoring the fact that she was soaked, he tucked her head underneath his chin and smoothed a hand over her tangled, wet hair.
“Hey, it’s okay now. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything hurt you. You’re safe.”
She snuggled farther into his embrace, her arms leaving the confines of the blanket to clutch desperately at his waist. Finally he gave up on trying to keep her in one place and hauled her into his lap. He leaned back and reached with one arm to gather the blanket around the both of them.
Realizing he wasn’t going to get a word out of her until some of the shock had receded, he concentrated instead on getting her warm and soothing some of the horrible fear in her eyes.
“It’s all right,” he crooned as he stroked down her arm. “You’re safe now. Take some deep breaths.”
She shuddered against him and he tightened his hold until they were wound so tight around each other that his clothing soaked up all the wetness from hers.
Gradually her heartbeat slowed and he could no longer feel the erratic thump of her pulse. She raised her head, bumping his chin as she stared across the room at the table where his gun rested.
“You have a gun,” she whispered.
He winced. Trust her to notice that detail. She was probably one of those women who fainted at the sight of a weapon.
“Yeah.”
She raised herself off his chest to look into his eyes. “Can I have it?”
As what-the-fuck moments went, this one was one of the bigger ones. The thing was, she was dead serious. There was an earnestness to her gaze that said she really wanted him to give her his gun. Shit.
He touched her cheek and let his fingers trail down her jaw. He tugged at a wet strand that stubbornly clung to her skin and tucked it up over her ear. “Sarah, honey, tell me what happened.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled again. It came out as a staccato stuttering over her lips. “Someone was in my cottage. I heard him.”
Garrett sat up, nearly upending her from his lap. He caught her arms and pulled her back against him, but he sat up straight, processing what she’d just said.
“How the hell did you get out? Did he hurt you? Tell me what happened. Everything.”
“I crawled out my window. I know I sound like the world’s biggest coward, but all I could do was lie there, terrified. I had to make myself get up.”
He brushed his lips across her hair in an unconscious gesture of comfort. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, sweetheart. Fear can render even the most powerful person immobile. Now tell me the rest.”
“I pushed the dresser away from the window and crawled out.”
“Where did you hear the noise?”
She frowned. “In the kitchen. There was a creaking sound. Like maybe a cabinet opening. It was what woke me up. I thought I was dreaming it at first.”
“Do you think maybe you were dreaming?”
Her head popped back up and fire blazed in her eyes. “I’m not crazy, Garrett. He was there. I heard him.”
“Shhh. I believe you, Sarah.”
“I can’t stay there.” It came out as a sob. “Oh God, I can’t do this.” She beat her fist against his chest and then her head fell forward onto his shoulder.
Garrett gathered her in his arms and rocked back and forth, murmuring soothing nonsense in her ear. She reminded him so much of Rachel, so broken and afraid. Sarah was teetering on the edge and he wondered if this would be the final straw in the tight grip she kept on her composure. Sooner or later she would break. No one could hold up under the strain for so long. Not with everything that had happened to her.
“You don’t have to stay there,” he murmured. “You can stay here with me.”
She went still against him and then she pushed herself away. It was then he knew she realized that she was close to him. Touching him. Allowing him to comfort her. Her initial terror had faded enough that the barriers had gone back up and she had returned to self-preservation mode.
Her eyes became troubled and she edged backward, but for the first time, he forced the issue and kept a tight hold on her. He watched her closely for signs of true distress but what he saw was uncertainty. Not fear.
“Listen to me, Sarah. I want you to stay here while I go check out things at your cottage.”
She shook her head but he put a finger to her lips to staunch the denial.
“What I want you to do is to take a hot shower while I’m at your cottage. I’ll bring back your things. You’re freezing.”
She clutched at his hand, her cold fingers curling around his. “Garrett, you can’t! What if he’s still there?”
“I hope to hell he is.”
He lifted her and set her over to the side and then he pulled the blanket up over her knees and tucked the ends around her neck.