CHAPTER FIVE
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DARCY DIDN’T TAKE OFF the t-shirt she had borrowed from Nick earlier. She discarded only her dirty jeans and sneakers. Then she stretched carefully on the bed, afraid that she would jar something inside her body and closed her eyes.
The bed appeared to be a relic forgotten in that cottage sometime at the end of the eighteenth century.
The piece of furniture was quaint, but it hadn’t been an easy feat for Darcy to climb onto the straw mattress, which reached up to her hip. The woman’s muscles screamed at every move anyway, and getting onto the bed had worsened her aches.
Darcy’s entire body hurt because of the fists or boots that had made contact with her skin and bones or the tumbles taken during the crazy race through the forest and upward the slope of the mount
