A Calculated Risk by Katherine Neville (most difficult books to read txt) 📕

that. I was furious—and I wondered if it would be possible to murder him, and still get back to land in one piece.

“Now that we’ve warmed up, let’s try something really exciting—shall we?” he suggested.

I felt certain my heart wouldn’t take much more excitement. But I was so dazed and shaken, I couldn’t speak. Furthermore, I suspected that any sign of weakness on my part would only prolong the agony. Tor loved to test my nerves.

Without waiting for my response, he hooked the sail into the wind again, and began picking up speed. Soon, we were moving so fast that the shore beside us was only a blur in the corner of my eye. But as long as we hugged the land, it seemed cozy and safe. When he suddenly whipped out onto the lake, the vast black expanse seemed to unfold before me, like the dark, wide, open jaws of death.

“These boats can do well over a hundred knots,” he said casually, pitching his voice beneath the monotonous whine of wind.

“How much is a knot?” I forced myself to ask—not really wanting to know. I felt if only I could keep him talking, he might forget his idea to “try something really exciting.”

“A nautical mile,” he said, “well over a hundred land miles per hour. We’ve picked up to seventy already.”

“How thrilling,” I said, but my voice betrayed my feelings.

Tor glanced at me sideways. “You’re not frightened?” he asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied as the hot blood came up behind my eyes. I was sure I was going to faint.

“Great! Then we’ll open her up—and really fly!” he said with glee.

My God, I’m going to die, I thought.

The sails seemed stretched to the breaking point—the snow crossing the bow was so thick it formed a tunnel of insulation that blocked all view. We were inside a pillowcase of silent snow as I strained my eyes and ears to make things out. The silence and blindness were more terrifying than what they obscured.

Suddenly, the snow vanished—and my heart stopped.

We were nearly on top of the dock! Ships loomed before us, surrounding us like horrible leering monsters! As we hurtled into them Tor dropped the iceboat on its side. If I hadn’t been lashed in, I’d have fallen out on my head. The turn was so tight I was sure the blades would slide from beneath us, and we’d crash into the dock. For one awful instant, my head nearly touched the ice as gravity pulled us down and down. Then we sheered sharply the opposite way, and headed around in a smooth, sure circle toward the dock.

I was literally gasping—gulping down air—so I wouldn’t black out. Tor was slaloming gracefully back and forth, in smoothly widening arcs. At the instant we reached shore, he dropped the sail, slid the boat into the slip in an unexpected diagonal slash, and leaped from the deck to tie her up.

I was frozen—immobile with fear—so shaken, I could barely stand. When he reached for my hand, I wasn’t sure I could move at all. But when I stumbled to my feet and Tor helped me onto the dock, I was amazed suddenly by a rush of warmth—a powerful, glowing energy far beyond excitement or hysteria. It took me a moment to understand what it was. It was euphoria.

“I loved that,” I said aloud, surprising myself.

“Yes, I rather thought you would,” he said. “Can you tell me why?”

“I think it was the fear,” I blurted out, wondering why that should be.

“Precisely—the fear of death is the affirmation of life,” he explained. “Men know that. But women—almost never. I saw it in you that first night—standing there in the hallway like a lost child. You were so afraid, you actually jumped when I spoke. You were afraid of what was about to happen in your job as well—but your fears didn’t stop you. I held out my hand, and you took it. You went up against them all, and all alone.”

He smiled, and lifted me off the dock. He held me a moment too long, the warmth of his body penetrating my heavy coat, his face in my hair. I felt suddenly frightened—panicky—though I couldn’t say why.

“That’s why I chose you,” he told me at last.

“Chose me?” I asked, pulling away to look at him. “What on earth do you mean?”

“You know perfectly well what I mean,” he replied.

He looked a bit shaken himself. The dim moonlight turned his pale skin and hair to silver. He put his hands on my shoulders and bent toward me. I’d never seen this expression before.

“Perhaps I’m too jaded,” he told me. “I’ve always been bored with the people around me. Life holds no challenges for a mind like mine any longer. I’ve missed you, my dear. I’m happy you’re back at last.”

“I’m not back,” I said, feeling the pounding in my chest. Surely the throbbing in my brain was caused by the rush of the iceboat. “Besides, I thought I was the one with jaded emotions—or so you’ve always said.”

“Your emotions aren’t jaded—they’re repressed,” he told me coldly. “How can something be worn-out, when it’s never been used?”

He turned on his heel and headed for the car. I stumbled after him in my ridiculously inadequate evening shoes. It was astonishing they’d stayed on my feet through the maelstrom.

“My emotions have been used,” I called after him.

I saw he was opening the door, and I raced ahead through the drifts.

“I have an emotion myself, that’s about to be used,” he told me, shoving me into the car. “It’s the emotion of anger—and you evoke this emotion in me so frequently, I wonder that I haven’t taken a bullwhip to you yet!” He slammed the door.

He got in on his side, yanking his gloves on. I was silent as he started the engine and waited for the car to warm. I could see my breath fogging the windows. I didn’t know what to say.

“I think it’s a good investment,” I told