Gabriel's Angel Read Free Page A

then took his place behind the wheel. It took a little maneuvering, but with a minimum of effort they inched back onto the road.
    The dependable Jeep started up the hill. Laura uncurled her hands as they moved along at a steady pace. They’d finally stopped shaking. “I wasn’t sure anyone lived along here. If I’d known, I’d have begged a roof long before this. I wasn’t expecting a snowstorm in April.”
    â€œWe get them later than this.” He said nothing for a moment. He respected other people’s privacy as zealously as his own. But these were unusual circumstances. “You’re traveling alone?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIsn’t that a little risky in your condition?”
    â€œI’d planned on being in Denver in a couple of days.” She laid a hand lightly on her belly. “I’m not due for six weeks.” Laura took a deep breath. It was a risk to trust him, but she really had no other option. “Do you live alone, Mr. Bradley?”
    â€œYes.”
    She shifted her gaze just enough to study him as he turned down a narrow, snow-covered lane. At least she assumed a lane was buried somewhere under all the white. There was something tough and hard about his face. Not rugged, she thought. It was too lean and fine-boned for that. It was coldly sculpted, as she imagined a mythic warrior chief’s might be.
    But she remembered the stunned male helplessness in his eyes when he’d seen she was pregnant. She believed she’d be safe with him. She had to believe that.
    He felt her gaze and read her thoughts easily enough. “I’m not a maniac,” he said mildly.
    â€œI appreciate that.” She smiled a little, then turned to look out the windshield again.
    The cabin could barely be seen through the snow, even when he stopped in front of it. But what Laura could see, she loved. It was a squat rectangle of wood with a covered porch and square-paned windows. Smoke puffed from the chimney.
    Though it was buried under snow, there was a path of flat rocks leading from the lane to the front steps. Evergreens mantled with white trooped around the corners. Nothing had ever looked as safe and warm as this snow-decked little cabin in the mountains.
    â€œIt’s lovely. You must be happy here.”
    â€œIt does the job.” Gabe came around to help her down. She smelled like the snow, he thought, or perhaps more like water, the pure, virginal water that poured down the mountain in the spring. “I’ll take you in,” he told her, knowing both his reaction and his comparison were ridiculous. “You can warm up by the fire.” Gabe opened the front door and waved her in. “Go ahead. I’ll bring in the rest.”
    He left her alone, snow dripping wet from her coat onto the woven mat inside the door.
    The paintings. Laura stood just where she was and stared openmouthed at the paintings. They covered the walls, they were stacked in corners, they were piled on tables. Only a few were framed. They didn’t need the ornamentation. Some were half finished, as though the artist had lost interest or motivation. There were oils, in colors vivid and harsh, and watercolors in soft, misty hues that might have sprung from dreams. Shrugging out of her coat, Laura moved in for a closer look.
    There was a scene from Paris, the Bois de Boulogne. She remembered it from her honeymoon. Looking at it made her eyes swim and her muscles tense. Breathing deeply, she forced herself to look at it until her emotions settled.
    An easel was set near the window, where the light would come in and fall on the canvas. She resisted the temptation to go over and steal a look. She already had the sensation that she was trespassing.
    What was she going to do? Laura gripped her hands together tightly as she let the despair come. She was stranded, her car wrecked, her money dwindling. And the baby— The baby wasn’t going to wait until she made