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Page 314
She realized that the light chemise wouldn't provide much covering if she had to fleenot when wet. It fit rather like a second skin, leaving nothing much to the imagination.
What would Thorn think if he turned and saw her like this? The idea felt deliciously enticing, and a lazy warmth eddied up through her body.
But he wouldn't, she knew. He was too honorable.
She untied her chemise at the neck and pulled it away so she could strip away the bandages and examine her wounds.
Though still red, they seemed to be healing well. She bathed them carefully, as she did the rest of her body.
Again, she looked toward the spot where Thorn stood.
He was gone!
The iciness Mariah felt had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. Where was Thorn?
He wouldn't have left her. Not voluntarily. Had someone sneaked up, attacked him?
Was he lying somewhere on the bank, hurt? Dead?
A terrified sound welled up in her throat. Without thinking, she dashed toward the shore. She hardly felt the hardness of the stones she stepped upon, stubbing her toes. She felt as though she moved in slow motion, the water about her legs impeding her progress.
"Thorn," she whispered, barely able to hear herself above the noise of the disturbed water. "Thorn!" Her voice rang out.
He tore from the forest, his rifle readied and his head bent as he sighted along it. He aimed it first at one side of her, then the other. "What is it?" His shout was muffled as he kept his head down. "Mariah, what is wrong?"
She reached the shore and ran to him, half crying in her terror. "You!" she cried. "I couldn't find you, and I was afraid something had happened."
"I was patrolling to ensure your solitude." His eyes flicked alertly from one side to the other, but he lowered his rifle. "You saw nothing that frightened you? Heard nothing?"
"No," she admitted. She was out of breath, and adrenaline coursed through her, syncopating her wild pulse rate. Study-

 
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