September's Dream (13 page)

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Jase had been brooding since the first few minutes after he watched her climb the stairs. What was keeping her? Why wasn’t she heading for the boardinghouse as she should?

His first thought was to go upstairs and make certain she was all right. What stopped him was the fear that he wouldn’t like what he found. After all, she was one of Rawlins’ women. What if the innocence was all an act? He didn’t want to know. And so he stayed at the bar and drank another whiskey, and brooded.

Relief flooded through him when he finally saw her slender figure descending the stairs. By the time she raced out the door, the relief was replaced with simmering anger. Snake Rawlins, Jase noted, had been absent from the saloon for some time now. What had she been doing up there for so long with him?

His anger mixed with fear and disgust at what he suspected.

Finishing his drink in one swallow, he pounded the glass down on the bar and turned, just in time to see the signal which passed from Snake to his men.

The two men stalked through the swinging doors and pointed, then hurried into the moonlit night. Deep in thought, Jase followed them out of the saloon.

He’d intended to mount his horse and head for his cabin. But what he had seen inside changed his plans.

Two figures blended into the shadows. Jase stiffened. It was easy to see what they were up to. Ahead of them, clearly outlined in the moonlight, was the small figure of the Velvet Voice. He had a feeling in his gut. They meant to harm her.

Deep in thought, September hurried along the dusty road. Every few minutes she dug her hand into the pocket of her dress to assure herself that the money was still there.

Her mind swirled with angry thoughts. Snake had cheated her. Used her and cheated her. Hadn’t she lived up to her promise to him? Hadn’t she helped fill his dirty saloon with men? But that wasn’t enough for Snake. Nothing would ever be enough for a man like that. He would always demand more, until she had nothing more to give.

Twenty-five dollars for a made-over dress. Ten dollars for the piano player. She was willing to bet Blackie never saw a penny of that money. And thirty-five dollars because she wouldn’t help cheat those poor old miners out of even more of their money.

Her hands clenched at her sides. She knew what he was after. For a girl who didn’t know much about men, she was quickly learning. He and Deke Kenyon were alike. The only difference was that Deke hid behind a pretense of wealth and sophistication. At least in that respect, she thought, Snake was more honest. He never pretended to be anything more than he was—an out-and-out thief.

Hadn’t Aggie warned her? The lure of big money was a trap. It was time to take a good look at her goals and then stick to them. There was only one thing she wanted in Alaska. Her father. And no one was going to keep her from going after him. No one.

Hearing a murmur of voices behind her, September froze, then slowly turned. Two men stopped abruptly and engaged in a whispered conversation.

She took a few steps more, then whirled quickly. Again the two men stopped.

They were following her. She touched the money in her pocket. Fear wrapped itself like a vise around her heart. Her pulse began hammering in her temple.

Hiking up the hem of her skirt, she started to run. Aggie’s boardinghouse was so far. She’d never be able to make it there ahead of those two. But she dared not stop. She cursed her foolishness. Why hadn’t she agreed to let Billy come for her? But then, she realized, she would have placed him in grave danger as well.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the two men were now running. They would soon overtake her. Increasing her speed, she misjudged a deep rut in the road and felt herself pitching forward. With a grunt of pain she sprawled in the dirt. Picking herself up, she ran between a row of tents. Still the men kept coming, gaining even more ground.

The boardinghouse. With every ounce of energy, September willed herself to make it to the safety of Aggie’s boardinghouse.

Chancing a quick look, she realized the men had nearly caught up to her. Her life depended on running even faster.

Rounding a corner she slammed into a solid wall of chest. A hand covered her mouth, stifling her scream of terror. She was lifted as easily as if she were a child and carried, kicking and biting, into one of the makeshift dwellings which dotted the landscape.

September was thrown unceremoniously to the blanket-strewn floor. Before she could react, a powerful man threw himself on top of her. With little effort he pinned her hands above her head. His other hand firmly covered her mouth, to keep her from crying out.

She lay beneath him, her chest heaving, her breath burning her lungs from the effort. Twisting her head from side to side, she tried to disengage the offending hand. He only tightened his grip.

Terror seized her. She had eluded one danger, only to fall into another.

Her eyes widened as she heard the pounding footsteps of the two men just outside the tent. They passed by, panting heavily from their efforts. In the silence which followed, September felt her shoulders ache from the unrelieved tension. A minute later, the footsteps returned, growing louder as they drew nearer.

"She’s here somewhere, I tell you. Maybe she ducked into one of these tents."

"Well what do you want to do now? Search every one of them?"

"It’s that or go back and admit we lost her."

"Not me. Come on."

September felt her heart begin to drum painfully in her chest. She hadn’t escaped them after all. They would find her very soon. And if they didn’t, there was still this man to deal with.

Outside, she could hear the voices raised in complaint as tent flaps were roughly jerked open. The voices grew more distinct. They were closing in on her. Her two trackers would quickly discover her in this tent.

The man who held her pinned beneath him hadn’t moved. Straining to hear everything, he lifted his head while continuing to hold her.

The men’s voices were very near. Someone cursed. The footsteps drew closer. The flap of this very tent was being raised. A knot of terror rose in her throat. September thought her heart would explode from the fear that paralyzed her.

Very deliberately, the man holding her brought her hands around his neck. She gasped, and began to cry out. Instantly his mouth covered hers.

The kiss was firm, intending to silence her. The moment their lips touched, everything changed. Shockwaves coursed from one to the other. Heat, energy, flowed through them. She lay engulfed in his arms, too stunned to move.

A torch flickered in the opening of the tent. A man’s voice called, "We’re looking for a woman."

The man who held her lifted his head. In the dim light, she recognized the gunman who had saved her in the saloon. The same one who had been on the boat. The same man who’s dark, brooding look held her night after night while she sang.

Without turning around, he said gruffly, "There’s only one woman in this tent, and she’s mine. Now get out of here and leave us alone."

The men outside hesitated. Pretending to ignore them, the stranger lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. One hand moved to the gun at his side.

The men watched a moment longer, then, grumbling, moved to the next tent.

All fear of the men who chased her was erased at the touch of this man. His simple kiss left her mind reeling. There was no time for fear. There was no time for a single thought. There was only this man holding her in his arms, his lips bringing a pleasure, an excitement she had never before experienced.

Now, as softly as a snowflake, his lips brushed hers, tasting the sweetness of her lips, allowing her to taste him as well. Subtly, ever so slowly, the kiss deepened. His arms came around her, holding her to the length of him. She fit perfectly into his embrace, as if she had been made for him alone.

Forgetting herself in the kiss, her arms, which at first had been placed awkwardly around him, tightened, drawing him even closer. Her fingertips brushed lightly over the bunched muscles of his upper arm and shoulder. The soft curves of her body seemed to melt into the hard muscles of his.

He lifted his head. Through a hole in the tent, the light of the moon filtered softly, bathing them in a golden glow. With his finger, he traced the outline of her lips. Tiny splinters of fire and ice inched along her spine. As his finger traced the curve of her cheek and moved downward to the slant of her jaw, she moved her face against his touch like a kitten.

He studied the cloud of silvery hair which drifted about her cheeks and spilled onto the blanket like moondust. His eyes narrowed. He thrust his hands into the tangle of hair, thrilling to the silken texture. Lifting a strand, he watched as it sifted through his fingers. He buried his hands in her hair and drew her face up to his. With an urgency, his lips covered hers in a searing kiss.

September gave herself up to the feelings that flowed through her at his touch. There was no thought of protest now. She had never known anything like this. The world had disappeared. In his arms, there was no Skagway, no cold, no fear. There was only this tent, this man, and the pleasure his lips, his touch brought.

His tongue traced her lips. At her little gasp of pleasure, her mouth opened, giving him access to her tongue. As his tongue entered her mouth, she hesitantly touched it with hers. He took the kiss deeper, allowing her to savor all the dark, mysterious tastes of him. He smelled faintly of whiskey and tobacco, of leather and horses. An altogether pleasant, masculine scent. His arms were strong, holding her so close against him she could feel the steady beat of his heart.

Leisurely he explored her mouth, until he felt her hands slide from his neck to tighten and clutch at the front of his shirt.

Jase was stunned at the feelings he was experiencing. He had intended only to fool her pursuers. He hadn’t planned to get caught up in this senseless, mindless passion. But the touch of her lips, the sweet smell of her, were driving him beyond thought.

What had this little creature done to him? Need, terrible, urgent need, ripped through him, shattering his cool control. Her breasts were flattened against his chest. With every rise and fall of her breath, she tormented him. He wanted to unbutton that maddening row of little buttons and discover the body beneath. He wanted to feel her heated flesh against his. He wanted to make her cry out with the same frantic, driving passion that drove him. But something in the way she kissed him had him puzzled. It was almost as if she had never kissed a man before. As if she were discovering all these pleasures for the very first time.

That was impossible. He had seen her in that cabin on the boat. And here in Skagway, she was one of Rawlins’ women. It wasn’t possible to have that much in her past and still remain innocent. Yet the feeling persisted. If this wasn’t her first kiss, she was an amazing actress.

While he kissed her, he ran a hand along her side, across the gentle flare of hip, upward to the tiny waist, then higher, until his thumb grazed the swell of her breast.

She gasped and drew away. Immediately he moved his hand to the small of her back, drawing her inexorably closer, until she relaxed and melted against him once more.

September puzzled at the strange, new feelings she was experiencing. What was it about this man’s touch which set him apart from all the rest? Deke Kenyon’s touch had repelled her. Snake Rawlins’ created only fear and loathing. But this man. His kisses turned her blood to fire. The touch of his hand on her body, though it frightened her, melted her bones and left her clinging to him, wanting more, so much more. What she was experiencing in his arms left her afraid, yet oddly exhilarated.

With great effort, Jase held his passions in check. The woman in his arms was taking him higher than he’d ever been, and yet all they shared was a kiss.

He buried his lips in her hair and breathed in the clean, fresh scent of her. As he moved his mouth along her cheek to her ear, he became aware of the light trace of French perfume. The scent was stronger here. Summer flowers. Poppy and mountain harebell. He was drowning in the wonderful summer scent of her. Her taste was on his tongue.

"I suppose we could hide here all night."

"No." The single word rasped. She was surprised at how difficult it was to speak.

With a little moan, September pressed her hands to his chest and drew her head away. Slowly surfacing, she stared into his dark eyes, seeing herself reflected there. She had given more in that kiss than she had ever given of herself before. Even now, as her mind began to clear, she felt as if a part of her was still with him.

Jase lay very still, watching the confusion in her eyes. Wide, startled, they glistened in the glow of moonlight like the brightest stars in the heavens. As she struggled to sit up, her hair spilled forward like a veil. Jase clenched his fist to keep from reaching out to it. He felt the familiar tightening deep inside him. He wanted her as he had never wanted anyone in his life. If he could, he would take her here, now. But something in her eyes, a look of innocence or fear, or possibly both, stopped him.

Beside him, he could hear her taking deep gulps of air to calm her ragged breathing. His own breathing was none too steady. When they had composed themselves, he stood and offered her a hand. As she accepted his hand, she averted her gaze.

"I think they’ve gone now. It’s safe to leave." He held the tent flap aside as she followed him. "I’ll see you home."

The soft look in her eyes was replaced with a hard wariness.

"I go home alone. And I don’t need anyone along for company."

"I wasn’t planning to make small talk. I just wanted to see you home safely."

"I’ll see to my own safety."

She plunged her hand deep in the pocket of her dress. The blade of a knife glittered in the moonlight.

Surprised, Jase’s eyes narrowed. There was a note of guarded admiration in his voice. "Do you know how to use that thing?"

Her chin jutted. "Would you like a demonstration of my skill?"

He fought to keep the laughter from his voice. In one fluid motion he twisted her hand, causing her to drop the weapon. She was hauled roughly against him. His breath was hot against her temple.

"Damned little she-wolf. Don’t you recognize a friend when you see one?"

She blinked, then stared boldly into his eyes. "In this place, it’s hard to tell your friends from your enemies." She lifted her head defiantly. "Now take your hands off me."

He stiffened, then bent and retrieved the knife, examining it closely before giving it back to her.

They walked to the boardinghouse without speaking. Each was lost in private thoughts.

On the porch, September turned. "How did you know those men were following me?"