Wilderness Passion by Lindsay McKenna Page A

the spirits that inhabited those trees. Later on, some Roman general ordered the groves to be cut down to break the power uniting the clans by destroying the druids’ sacred trees. When you said that these woods are like a cathedral and that chopping the timber down was close to desecration, it reminded me of how the druids must have felt when the Romans cut their forests down.” He gave her a bashful smile. “History and mythology happen to be my favorite subjects, if you haven’t already guessed.”
    Libby was fascinated with his story, finding herself a mesmerized child sitting at his feet while he spun the myth. “If history had been taught to me the way you’ve made it sound, I would have loved it,” she responded, delighted in finding another facet of Dan Wagner that met with her approval.
    Dan grimaced, getting to his feet. “Who knows, maybe you’re a druidess reincarnated, coming back to your rightful home.”
    “You believe in reincarnation?” Another surprise. But then, he was a totally unique man in so many ways. So it really didn’t come as that much of a shock to Libby.
    He shrugged. “I’ll turn the question back on you. Haven’t you ever experienced déjà vu? As if you’ve been in a certain city or country before? Maybe a vivid flash or recollection of an event?’’
    She thought about it “Y-yes, I have.”
    “Haven’t you been experiencing one just now? When you started talking about these trees, this forest, your eyes began to shine, Libby.” His blue eyes danced. “For a city gal, you sure are at home out here. Think about it,” he challenged, offering his hand to her.
    Libby looked up, sliding her hand into his, aware of the strength and steadiness of his grip. Once on her feet, she stood dizzyingly close to his body, her heartbeat beginning to pick up. Reluctantly he released her fingers. There was a searching look in his eyes as he scanned her features. Unconsciously her lips parted beneath his hungry gaze; her breathing stopped. An electrical current seemed to pass between them. Their relationship changed in those few seconds, an unspoken need expressed. Libby trembled inwardly at the invitation in his blue gaze. It was as if he had removed the thick protective walls from around himself for those fleeting seconds so that she could sense how he felt toward her.
    “Let’s go,” he urged huskily, and the magic of the moment evaporated like fog that had been struck by the rays of the sun.

4
    S ITTING CLOSE TO the small fire, Libby fought to keep her eyes open. There was enough light to finish writing down her comments about the necessary changes that would have to be made to protect the land from the logging. But darkness fell rapidly, and finally she closed the book.
    “All done?” Dan inquired, coming back into camp with another armload of wood. He dumped it near the fire and brushed pieces of bark from his sleeves.
    “No. I’m so tired that I’m not thinking clearly,” she admitted. Glancing at her watch, she groaned. “It’s only nine-thirty! I’m used to going to bed around midnight.”
    He walked over to her pack, releasing the lightweight sleeping bag and spreading it near the fire. “We made ten miles today, so it’s no wonder you’re feeling a little tired.”
    Libby rubbed her eyes. “A little? Humph, a lot. I don’t think I even have the strength to go to that small stream and get cleaned up.”
    Dan gathered a soft cushion of dry pine needles beneath the sleeping bag. Putting a ground mat beneath the bag, he unzipped it and motioned for her to climb in. “You can wash up in the morning. I’d advise you to sleep with your socks and at least a T-shirt on.”
    “I didn’t bring a T-shirt,” she began lamely.
    “I’ll loan you one of mine.”
    She struggled to her feet, brushing the back of her pants off. Giving him a weary smile, she went over to the bag and flopped down. Unlacing her boots, she placed them near her head. “Thanks for making my bed,