CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sarah tears her chin away from Giles and looks at the blinding snow. “Yes.” Strands of her hair blow in the wind, tickling her face.
Giles takes a step, putting his hand on her shoulder, and whispers in her ear. “What are you doing here? Are you hurt? Have they done something to you?” He glances at the men before looking her in the eyes.
All the men stare in quiet curiosity at the two of them. None of them move. All of them wait for an explanation.
Sarah whispers back, “It’s a bit of a story, but I’m fine.” She offers a weak smile.
Giles’ green eyes glisten in the sunlight. The longer Sarah stands there, the more of him she takes in since they last stood side by side. He stands a rough five inches taller, maybe more in his boots, and looks much bigger in his fully arm
