Divine Deception Read Free Page A

penetrate her flesh.
    Fallon felt his breath in her hair. Periodically, his chin bumped her head when the horse faltered. The unfamiliar sensation of something similar to a fever began to rise within her. The warmth seemed to start in her chest, spreading throughout the rest of her like sunlight piercing an evaporating cloud. Sleep tempted her to a point of no resistance, and she let her head fall forward slightly.
    “ Stay awake! Do you understand me?” Trader Donavon shouted. He cupped her chin tightly in the hand that held the reins and shook her head. “Don’t give into the cold.”
    His voice was harsh and demanded compliance. “Yes, sir,” she answered, forcing her eyes to stay open. Fallon began to tremble again as her senses were well aware of the cold once more. She grasped the hem of the cloak, holding it tightly about her, vainly willing it to give her more warmth.
    In such a desperate state, Fallon tried to occupy her mind with other thoughts, tried to distract her fevered brain from nesting on the reality of the cold.
    “ Well,” she mumbled in a whisper to herself. “He’s got two arms, two hands, and two legs. It must be his head that is so monstrously misshapen.” But it was no use. Fatigue overcame her again, and her head dropped forward as she gave in.
    She was instantly revived as Trader Donavon’s hand uncomfortably encircled her throat. “Stay awake! Do you hear me, girl?” he shouted. Fallon nodded.
    “ Answer me!” he commanded.
    “ Yes, sir,” she managed to answer, straightening once more. She dared not ignore the commanding voice again.
    Pulling the folds of his cloak more securely about her, she shivered as his powerful arm tightened around her waist. She could feel the contours of his chest, his solid musculature beneath his shirt, as she leaned back against him. Again she fancied she was safer then, out in the elements, with no shelter in the brutal throws of a winter storm. She was safer held in one strong arm of Trader Donavon than she had been since leaving her mother.
    
    In her heavily fatigued, nearly dreamlike state, it seemed hours before the brightly lit windows of the Donavon ranch house cut through the blowing snow. The ranch house stood strong and impenetrable, and the smoke of a much-needed fire rose from each chimney. Fallon imagined the warmth inside reaching out to her, beckoning her with arms of haven and comfort.
    “ Good boy, Brigadier,” Trader Donavon soothed his horse, reining in before the front porch of the house.
    As the much-longed-for oblivion of sleep threatened to overtake her once more, Fallon was hazily aware of someone opening the ranch house door. Cozy, warm firelight streamed out onto the breast of the snow. Trader Donavon dismounted as a man approached them. Fallon, weakened by so many affects, slumped forward on the horse, and she felt her face come to rest in the comforting, soft hair of the horse’s mane.
    “ We’ve been so worried! Lost in the storm, were ya? I was sure of it! And what have ya dragged home with ya this time?” the man inquired.
    Fallon was aware of Trader Donavon’s powerful hands around her waist as he lifted her from the horse. “Warm the west room, Ben,” he said to the man.
    Fallon stood unsteadily. She looked up at the great tower of a man before her, cloaked all in black, head and face hidden by the hood. “I…” she began, and then she felt nothing but two powerful arms reaching out to support her frail body.
     
     

CHAPTER THREE
     
    “ She’ll be fine, Trader,” a voice said. “I’d suggest feeding her as soon as she’s able to take something. From the look of her, she hasn’t been fed well in some time. And then rest, of course. Keep the room warm, and see she drinks lots of water.” Fallon opened her eyes as her mind began to regain consciousness. Doctor Smithers was leaning over her.
    “ Well! Good morning, Fallon,” he said rather too happily. Fallon tried to reply, but her voice failed