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Page 65
larger than cots. In the corners of each were piles of neatly folded blankets.
Mariah felt shocked. "Travelers have no private quarters?"
René laughed. "If they expect luxury in the wilderness, mademoiselle, they should not be in the wilderness!"
Mariah realized then that Thorn had done her a favor by relegating her to the stable. There, she had her own room.
She had, indeed, misjudged him.
Turning to head back downstairs, she found Thorn standing behind her. She started; she hadn't heard him arrive. Glancing down, she noticed again his hand-sewn leather moccasins. She'd heard that Indians could move silently in such footwear. Obviously Thorn could, too.
She'd have to watch her back around him.
"Has René given you your chores yet?" he asked as the Frenchman preceded them down the stairs. Thorn's rich, throaty voice sounded less cold, more friendly.
"Not yet." She smiled. Though he didn't return the gesture, his brown eyes, too, seemed warmer than they had earlier. Maybe, Mariah thought, he wasn't so far from the Thorn of the story. That Thorn had become friends with Matilda almost immediately.
And Mariah sorely needed a friend here, wherever and whenever she was.
"I do not yet know how many we will be for supper," René said as he led her into the kitchen. "I began a stew hours ago over a small fire so it could simmer nicely, but the fire has gone out. Me, I left someone else in charge of tending it while I went to pick mushrooms" He glared at Thorn, who had followed them into the kitchen. Thorn merely regarded him mildly, but Mariah imagined what he was thinking. If he'd been here minding the fire instead of saving her, the fire would not have gone out. "Perhaps mademoiselle could start the fire again,'' René continued.
"Fine," agreed Thorn.
"Sure," Mariah said, nervously pushing her hair back from her face. Her heart sank. She stared at the men's re-

 
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