Chapter 3

The rain had not let up. If anything, the storm outside the log cabin seemed to have grown in volume, a relentless drumming against the shingles that mimicked the frantic pounding of my own heart. We had retreated to the main hall of the lodge after dinner, seeking a moment of respite from the chatter of the other guests, the clinking of silverware, and the low hum of polite conversation that filled the large, timber-beamed room. It was a cavernous space, high ceilings lost in shadow, lit only by the warm, flickering glow of the massive stone fireplace and a few strategically placed lamps that cast long, dancing shadows against the log walls. The air smelled of pine, old wood, and the faint, sweet scent of the rain that had seeped in through the cracks in the doors. I stood near the entrance to the great hall, trying to adjust the heavy wool coat draped over my shoulders. It was too warm in there, but I had insisted on wearing it, perhaps as a shield, perhaps as a way to hide the way my hands trembled when I thought he wasn’t looking. He had been watching me all evening. Not