Passage West (39 page)

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Beneath the warm blanket, Abby yawned and stretched. A log crackled and hissed on the fire, and she sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. The wind shrieked and Abby glanced at the naked entrance to the cave. Except for a few tree branches, it was exposed to the elements. Where was Rourke’s saddle blanket?

She stared around. He was gone. And so was his horse. Leaping to her feet, she ran to the mouth of the cave and peered into the swirling snow. There were no footprints. No sign of a horse or rider. How long would it have taken to obliterate his tracks?

She returned to the fire. The logs had burned clear through. How long ago had Rourke placed them on the embers? An hour ago? Two? Long enough to be miles from here. Long enough to put some distance between them so he would no longer have to be responsible for her.

He’d gone. Rourke had left her. Left her just like all the others. Carrie. Aunt Vi. Pa. Even Lily, her real mother, had left her at birth to fend for herself. Everyone on the train was gone. And now Rourke.

She couldn’t stop the tears that sprang to her eyes. Viciously she wiped them away with the back of her hand. No more tears. She wouldn’t cry for them. Any of them. Especially Rourke. He hadn’t wanted to be stuck with her in the first place. And now he was rid of her for good. He didn’t deserve her tears. None of them did. But try as she might, she couldn’t stop crying. Tears flowed down her cheeks, dampening the collar of her shirt. Rourke’s shirt, she thought, causing another stream of tears. It was the only thing of him that she had left. A torn shirt, and ragged pants. And a few memories.

Listlessly she began to saddle her horse. She had two choices. Stay here and starve to death or face the bitter snow and take her chances on freezing to death. She might get turned around in the mountains and go the wrong way. She might slip and fall into a crevice and never be found. But if there was the smallest chance that she could find her way through this maze and reach California, she had to take it.

As she led her horse from the cave, she was blasted by icy needles of snow-laden wind. Drawing her hat low on her head, she pulled herself into the saddle. Wrapping the reins around her wrist, she dug her hands deep into the sleeves of the buckskin. There was no escape from the cold. It wrapped itself around her, whipping her hair into wild tangles, flaying her cheeks until they were numb.

The horse, balking at the deep drifts, had to be whipped to keep going. With every step he stumbled, until at last, too weary to go on, he stood with head bowed, ignoring the whip and the curses hurled at him.

For long minutes Abby sat, buffeted by the snow and ice, until, defeated, she slid from the saddle. The snow reached nearly to her knees, making it impossible to walk. The swirling flakes blinded her. Which direction would Rourke have taken? Which way was she headed? Which way was the cave?

Above the howling wind, a shot rang out. Clutching her horse’s neck, Abby shouted at the top of her lungs. But the words were whipped from her mouth and carried away on the wind. With frozen fingers she reached up to the saddle and removed her rifle. Aiming it skyward, she fired. The sound rumbled across the canyons, bouncing off mountain peaks, then disappeared into the wind. She waited, peering through the swirling snow. All she could see was a blinding whiteness. When she could bear it no longer, she fired again, and listened with sinking heart as the reverberations echoed across the mountain.

Her horse lifted his head and whinnied and Abby strained to see what he had heard. A shadowy form appeared in the swirling storm, and Abby, despite her trembling, aimed her rifle.

“Abby? Abby is it you?” A horse and rider emerged from the storm.

“Rourke? Oh, Rourke is that really you?”

Strong arms lifted her, pulling her close against him. Her teeth were chattering so badly she could barely get the words out. “You left me. Why did you leave me?”

He swore, loudly, viciously. Cradling her against his chest, he grabbed the reins of her horse, forcing him to follow. It took them nearly an hour to cross the few hundred yards that separated them from the cave. Once inside Rourke set her down and hurried to throw new logs on the fire. While he worked he unleashed a torrent of rage.

“Damned little fool. Rushing out in a blizzard. You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“And what would you care?” she hissed, throwing off the blanket. “You couldn’t wait to get rid of me, could you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Whirling, he faced her.

“I’m talking about the way you sneaked out of here while I was sleeping.” She brought her hands to her hips, looking as fierce as any wildcat. “I woke up and you were gone without a trace.”

“I was out hunting,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

“You sneaked off, without telling me, and you expect me to believe you were hunting?” Her eyes blazed; her nostrils flared.

Rourke muttered a stream of oaths. “You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you. I figured I’d be back before you even knew I was gone.”

“Stop lying. You were leaving me,” she shouted. “Just like all the others. You were going to leave me in this cave all alone.”

Like all the others. So that was it. Hearing the pain in her words, Rourke felt his anger drain away. She was afraid. Not angry, just afraid. How many times in her young life had she been abandoned? Attempting to soothe, he said softly, “I’m sorry, Abby. Sometimes I forget you’re just a kid. You were scared, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t scared. I was mad. And don’t call me a kid,” she bellowed.

At the sight of her, Rourke threw back his head and began to laugh. It was such a relief to be able to laugh again. “My God, look at you. Little spitfire. I was right. You reacted just like a little brat, running off into the storm before you even took the time to think things through.”

“You take that back.” In pain and frustration, Abby attacked him, pounding him about the head and chest with her fists.

Catching both her hands easily in one of his, he looked down at her, still laughing. “See what I mean? A little tomboy who can’t even admit when she’s wrong.”

Stung by his words, Abby kicked him in the knee. Shocked, he let go of her hands. She immediately began attacking him again. In defense, he grabbed her hands, twisting them behind her back, then pulled her roughly against him.

“Goddamned little hellion. Settle down before I…”

“Before you what?” Her breath was hot against his cheek. “Leave me again?”

“I told you I wasn’t leaving you. That deer in the corner ought to convince you.”

She swiveled her head. Abby’s expression changed from anger to stunned surprise, and then to the sudden knowledge that this had all been a terrible misunderstanding.

“You bagged a deer? You were hunting? You really weren’t leaving me?”

Rourke let out a slow hiss of anger. “If you hadn’t behaved like such a damned little fool, you could have spared us a lot of trouble.”

Trouble? He’d been furious when he’d found her gone. And terrified, if he wanted to be honest. To have come through so much together, and then to lose her. He couldn’t bear it. Like a wild man, he’d rushed out into the blinding snow with no idea where to go, how to find her.

But now she was here, frightened, cold, furious, but safe. Back in his arms, where he could reassure himself of her safety.

Though he continued to hold her firmly against him, she felt the slight change in pressure in the hands holding hers.

“I’m sick and tired of having you call me a little fool.”

She saw something flicker in his eyes and felt a moment of fear. Then, as he continued holding her, the fear turned to something new, something that exhilarated yet still frightened her.

“If you don’t want to be called a fool,” he muttered, his voice suddenly low and husky, “don’t act like one.”

He drew her perceptibly closer, and a little thrill raced along her spine.

“Rourke, I…”

“Don’t say another word,” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers.

Heat, liquid, golden heat flowed through her, leaving her flushed and breathless.

He’d had no other plan than to hold her. There was no passion, no rush of desire. All he wanted was to keep her close, to share his warmth until he felt her flesh heat, her trembling still.

He took the kiss deeper, savoring the sweet, wild taste of her lips, her mouth, her tongue. He couldn’t have enough of her taste. There would never be enough of her. Plunging his hands into her hair, he tipped her head back and plundered her mouth, filling himself with her.

As he lifted his lips, he heard her little sigh of pleasure.

“I’m sorry about all this, Abby. I didn’t want to wake you this morning. You were sleeping so peacefully. But I should have realized you’d react like a scared little kid if you found me gone.”

“Kid.” He saw the temper return to her eyes. “There you go again. Stop calling me that. I’m a woman, dammit.” Clutching the front of his shirt, she pulled him close. “And I want you to treat me like one.”

His eyes narrowed. Staring down at her, he muttered, “I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

“Yes I do,” she whispered, bringing her arms around his neck and drawing him even closer. “Oh yes I do.”

He took a step backward, staring at her as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Touching a hand to her cheek for long moments, he stared down into her eyes, as if trying to read her mind. He had promised himself that she would have to make the first move. But now, as he watched her eyes soften, felt her body press closer into his, he was thunderstruck.

Slowly, slowly, his arms came around her, drawing her close, pinning her to the length of him. His mouth covered hers in a hot, hungry kiss.

He wanted to drown in her kisses. She was sweet. So sweet. Yet there was something new in her kiss. Something bold. There was a giving, a taking, that he had never sensed in her until this moment.

Abby felt as if her very breath was being taken from her. And still he lingered over the kiss, as if worshiping her mouth. She sighed and felt herself filling with him, his taste, his breath, his tongue, moving with hers, daring her to explore his mouth as he was exploring hers.

Tentatively, she followed his example, and thrilled to the intimacy of his mouth. She heard his sigh of pleasure before he took the kiss deeper, and she felt herself being caught up in feelings she had never known existed.

Her body strained against his, eager, pliant. Running his hands along her sides, he explored the narrow, slender hips, the tiny waist. When he encountered the swell of her breasts, his thumbs began to stroke, until he heard her little sigh of impatience.

Always before, these sensations frightened her. She had feared losing control. But now, hungry for more, she gave in to the pleasure his touch brought.

When his lips abruptly left hers, she felt bereft. But before she could protest, he brought his lips to her throat. He murmured words of endearment as he ran openmouthed kisses along the column of her throat, before dipping lower to the soft swell of her breast.

She gasped and clutched at him when his lips found her breast. Needs pulsed through her, and she felt warmth radiating through her veins, until she thought she would suffocate from the heat.

His fingers found the buttons of her shirt, and he slipped it from her shoulders and bent his lips to the ridge of her collarbone. His lips, his fingertips, followed the lacy edge of her chemise until he untied the ribbons that held it. With the rest of her clothes, it drifted to the floor about her feet.

“Abby, you’re so beautiful.” Drawing her close, he kissed her eyelid, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, then brought his lips lower to trail her neck, the hollow of her throat, her breast.

She shuddered. Heat seared her. She felt her knees buckle, and before she could fall he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the blanket. When he lay beside her, she reached for the buttons of his shirt. As her awkward fingers fumbled, he helped her, until they lay at last, mouth to mouth, flesh to flesh.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” He buried his face in her hair and inhaled the wonderful fragrance of evergreen and forest that mingled with the woman scent of her.

“Oh, Rourke,” she breathed against his neck, sending spasms of pleasure along his spine. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never loved a man.”

“Shh.” He touched his lips to hers, stilling her words. “There’s nothing to know, Abby,” he murmured, rubbing his lips across hers. “We’ll take a journey together. We’ll explore,” he whispered, tracing a finger across her eyebrow, to the curve of her cheek, and then along the sweep of her jaw. “Together.”

As his lips followed his fingertips, she relaxed, allowing the pleasure of his touch to soothe, caress. Steeped in pleasure, she felt warm and contented. But as his lips and fingertips moved lower, the warmth became heat.

He nibbled the slope of her shoulder and pressed kisses to the inside of her elbow, her wrist, her palm, until, hungry for his lips on hers, she drew his face back to hers. No longer content with just her lips, he brought his mouth lower, to taste her neck, and feel her pulsebeat at the hollow of her throat. Then his lips moved lower still, to tease and taunt her already erect nipples. Contractions began deep inside her, and she moaned and clutched at him, begging for release. But he had only begun. Moving lower, he explored the smooth flesh of her stomach, then lower still to the softness of her inner thigh. Before she could jerk away he kissed the back of her knee, and she began laughing.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?”

“It tickles,” she said, and laughed again as he continued kissing her leg, her ankle, the bottom of her foot. “Rourke, it tickles. Stop.”

But he didn’t stop. He ran his tongue along the sole of her foot until she yanked it away.

“So you want to play.” Twisting, she caught his leg and tried to kiss the back of his knee, but he moved and she caught him at mid-thigh instead.

Her laughter died as her fingers began exploring the muscular, hairy leg. She had never before thought of touching a man like this. But he felt good. All of him, she realized, not just his arms, his lips. Explore, he had said. She suddenly realized she wanted to explore him as he had explored her.