September's Dream (24 page)

She could never please a man like Jase Conroy, she thought with an anguished heart. How foolish she must seem to him. How childish. From now on she would work even harder at keeping her distance from him. She couldn’t bear his ridicule.

Beside her, Jase listened to her quiet breathing and cursed himself. How had he ever deceived himself into thinking he could make love with someone as desirable as September? Love. What a fool he was. She needed a guide to find her father. Nothing more. Love was for fools and dreamers. And he steadfastly refused to be either.

The blizzard ended, leaving a world gentled by blinding white. In the morning mist, indistinct cliffs and mountain peaks rose to touch a sky smudged with pink and mauve. Ribbons of clouds parted. As the sun burned away the mist, the heavens were a wash of palest blue.

September stood by the mouth of the cave, remembering the loving way Jase had spoken about this land. He was right. If she looked beyond the cold, it had great beauty.

In the days that followed, Jase ate everything September cooked for him and felt his strength slowly returning. He surprised himself by sleeping in the afternoon like a baby and waking to feel refreshed and eager to test his growing strength.

He mended harnesses and cleaned their guns. He hunted, storing up meat for the long journey ahead.

While he worked he was achingly aware of the young woman who moved about the cave, cooking, stoking the fire, mending his clothes, and painstakingly cleansing his wounds. Though they carefully avoided touching except when necessary, they were gradually becoming attuned to each other’s moods.

The evenings were the best time. With the dogs settled down for the night and the chores behind them, September and Jase would sit by the entrance of the cave and watch the sunset turn the snow to flame.

Because his arm was still stiff, September continued to roll his cigarettes. She was getting better. And bolder.

"Let’s see what you like about this," she muttered, holding the cigarette to her lips and inhaling smoke into her lungs.

Her eyes filled with tears. She sputtered, coughed. Handing him the cigarette, she moaned, "This is what you save that precious tobacco for?"

Jase laughed. "I suppose it’s like drinking whiskey. You have to take it slow and easy. The first time always hurts."

"Is that true of everything?" she asked. Her mind wasn’t on smoking now. She was thinking about her awkwardness at lovemaking.

"I don’t think so." He drew deeply on the cigarette, then watched the thin stream of smoke. "But if you’ve never tried something before, you just don’t know what to expect." He turned. "Like shooting that carbine. Now that you know what a kick it has, you’re ready for it."

She laughed, remembering how stunned and angry she had been.

Jase joined in the laughter, recalling her fierce determination.

"I want to try some whiskey," she announced.

"Why?"

She thought about it. "I want to try all sorts of new things. I have to decide what I like and don’t like."

Jase watched as she got the bottle and poured a shot.

Remembering the cigarette, she sipped carefully, feeling the liquid burn her lips, then run hot down her throat.

She glanced up at Jase, who was watching her carefully.

"Well?"

She took a second sip. Heat trickled all the way to her toes.

She handed Jase the drink. "You can finish it."

"You don’t want any more?"

"Not tonight. Maybe I’ll try it another time."

She gave him a dubious look as he downed the drink in one swallow and poured a second for himself.

For a while, they sat in companionable silence, as night spread its dark mantle across the land.

As Jase flipped the last of his cigarette into the snow, he said carelessly, "We leave here in the morning."

She felt the quick slice of hurt and resentment. "And when did you decide this?"

"I’ve been thinking about it all day. I’ve decided I’m strong enough to withstand the trail."

And he hadn’t said a word to her. Not one word. "I thought we were partners. You should have told me what you were planning."

The anger and frustration came just as quickly to him. "Partners? Who said anything about that? I told you in the beginning, September. There can be only one boss. And that’s me." He stood and walked to their bed. "And I’ve decided we’re leaving at dawn." He threw off his clothes and climbed between layers of fur. "So be sure to get a good night’s sleep."

September stood at the cave entrance, seething. For days she had nursed him, cared for his every need, made all the decisions. And now he was dismissing her like some—some helpless female, and assuming the role of leader.

She walked to the fire and added another log. For long moments she stood, watching the flames hiss as snow melted and the log quickly caught fire. The longer she stood, the deeper grew her resentment.

Jase glanced up. "Come to bed, September. You need your rest."

"No. I’m not tired."

"Yes you are. You’re just being silly."

Her hands clenched at her sides. Her voice rose. "I’m not silly. I’m not helpless. And I’m not a little girl. I’m a woman. And you have no right to make my decisions for me."

He sat up. In the light of the fire, her eyes blazed.

He deliberately kept his tone even. "I’m the only one who can know how strong I feel. I’m the only one who knows what lies ahead on the trail. I’m the only one who can get you through the wilderness to your father." His words became clipped. "And that makes me the only one who will make the decision to go or stay. Tomorrow we go." His voice softened slightly. "Now come to bed."

"No, damn you. I’ll sleep over here."

She scooped up a pelt and wrapped it about herself. Sitting by the fire with her back against a rock, she stared bleakly at the flames.

Jase swore and rolled to his other side. Women. He would never understand them.

*  *  *

Jase sat up. The fur dropped from his naked shoulders and settled around his waist.

The fire had died down to red coals. He stood and moved to the small figure slumped against a rock. She was lying on one side at an awkward angle. Her head had dropped backward against the boulder. The fur had slipped to reveal a creamy thigh. One leg was tucked beneath her. If she continued to sleep in that position, she would be stiff and sore in the morning.

He slid his hands under her and easily scooped her into his arms. She smiled in her sleep and drew her arms around his neck. He shifted her until she was held close against his chest. Then turning, he walked to their bed.

Their bed. The thought stunned him. Their journey. Their dog team. Their cave. Almost as if they were a team.

Partners, she had said. Sharing food, chores, everything except that final sharing of husband and wife.

He stood, staring down at the exquisite face cradled against his shoulder, and felt a tenderness welling inside him that he had never known before.

The fact came to him like a blinding flash of sunlight off steel. He would kill for her, die for her. He loved her with a fierceness that left him reeling.

She moved and drew her arms tighter around his neck. Bending his head, he touched his lips to hers. She sighed, smiled, and lifted her face to his.

His kiss was as tender as a snowflake. Drifting on the edge of sleep, September felt warmth and pleasure thread along her spine.

She blinked, then came fully awake. She stared into dark eyes and recognized the glint of smoldering desire.

"Jase." She touched a hand to his rough cheek. "Why are you carrying me?"

"Because you fell asleep against that rock, and I wanted you to come to bed."

She remembered their angry scene, but here in his arms it was impossible to renew her anger. She struggled to find it. It had dissolved. She nodded. "I’d like that."

As he knelt and deposited her on the bed of fur, she reluctantly unwound her hands from around his neck. He stared at her for long seconds, desire naked in his eyes, then made a motion as if to stand. She caught his hand. He hesitated, not wanting to take advantage of her sleep-drugged state.

"Lie with me, Jase."

He stiffened. "I can’t keep lying with you and not touch you."

Her sultry voice whispered in the night, weaving its spell over him. "Then touch me."

He became angry. "I can’t stand to merely touch you. It won’t end until I’ve taken you. I have to have you completely."

Her star-eyes gleamed in the firelight. "Then take me, Jase. I want to make love with you. Just show me how."

He was incredulous. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "But the other night. . ."

"I was afraid."

"Why?"

"Because I’ve—never been with a man."

The man on the boat. The miner. Had she refused them? The thought was staggering.

His voice lowered. "And now?"

"I’m still afraid. But I want you."

He caught her hand and buried a kiss in the palm, then curled her fingers around the kiss. He stretched out beside her and reached out to brush away the silken veil of hair that drifted across her eye. The moment his hand touched her skin, she felt the familiar fire.

He pressed his lips to her temple. "When I was young, my mother had a book of famous paintings. Did you know that you’re more beautiful than any of the women in that book? So beautiful," he murmured against her skin. "From the first moment I saw you, I’ve been fighting this attraction. But I’ve waited so long, I’m afraid I’ll lose control. I’d like to make this first time last all night." His lips burned a trail along her cheek to her ear, sending shivers along her spine. "I don’t want to hurt you, September."

"You won’t, Jase." She shivered. Would she know what to do? Would he find her ignorance appalling, or worse, laughable?

"Oh, God," he moaned. His lips covered hers.

The kiss was hot, hungry. She responded, her mouth avid, seeking. His kisses were by turns demanding, persuading, bis mouth gentle, then rough. She soared on a wild flight of sensations. Before she could touch down, his kiss lifted her again, higher, then higher still.

He brought his mouth to the hollow of her throat and felt her pulse leap at his touch.

She smelled of pine needles and evergreen. He covered her mouth with his and felt the flame threaten to engulf him as he became lost in the wonder of her. She tasted clean and sweet, like rainwater. He would never forget the taste of her. He wanted to drown in the taste and scent of her.

As he closed his arms around her, she instinctively brought her hands as a barrier between them. He continued kissing her throat and the little hollow of her shoulder, until she trembled in his arms.

Losing her shyness, she reached a tentative hand to his chest, allowing her fingers to play with the springy mat of hair. Hearing his sigh of pleasure, she thrilled to the power she had over him and grew bolder with her touch, following the mat of hair until it ended in a deep V below his waist.

Suddenly shy once again, she wrapped her arms around his waist and felt the hard, corded muscles of his back.

With her arms no longer a barrier between them, he brought his lips to the swell of her breasts. The thin cotton chemise grew damp from his lips. As she reached her hands to remove it, he gently stopped her.

"I want the pleasure of undressing you, September."

He untied the ribbons which held the garment closed, then gently removed it, freeing her breasts.

In the dim light of the dying fire, her skin was as luminous as pearls beneath fresh stream water. He touched a work-roughened fingertip, marveling at the softness of her flesh.

His tongue followed his fingertips. She was shocked at her instant reaction to his touch. Though her flesh remained soft, the peaks hardened, sending contractions surging through her body.

His tongue moved lower still, trailing her rib cage, circling her soft stomach, until she arched in his arms. Never had a man touched her like this. And never had she dreamed that a man’s hands and lips could bring such pleasure.

She sighed, then let out a gasp of shock as his fingers moved lower still, and his tongue followed.

All thought fled. Her body was a mass of nerve endings, begging to be touched. A kind of madness took hold of her, driving her higher, beyond control.

His lips found hers once again, taking the kiss deeper, deeper, until she thought her lungs would burst from lack of air.

"Touch me, September."

"Where?"

"Anywhere. Everywhere."

She ran a hand along his rough cheek, feeling the scratch of beard. Bending her lips to his throat, she heard his sudden intake of breath. Laughing softly at her new power, she ran her fingernails along his back, and felt him arch against her touch.

Growing bolder, she brought her lips to his chest, running her tongue down his breastbone to his ribs. As she pressed a kiss to his flat stomach, she could feel his flesh quivering beneath her touch.

She moved lower and felt his breath coming harder, faster. At his moan of pleasure, she felt herself being lifted, as he brought her mouth up to meet his.

She kissed and clung and arched herself against him until their bodies seemed as one. And still he waited, driving both of them over the brink of madness, into a desperate, driving frenzy.

There was so much of her to learn, to touch, to taste. And he wanted time to savor everything. His mouth journeyed over her face, loving the high, firm cheekbones, the full, sensuous lower lip. And all the while his hands roamed her body. When his thumbs teased the tips of her breasts, she felt as if her body was on fire.

Her breath was coming faster now, her words broken, incoherent. When at last he took her, he fought to bank his needs in order to be gentle. She moaned his name and clutched his shoulders, moving, softly, slowly, against him, until she seemed to flow into him. They moved together in perfect rhythm, flowing, gently flowing, feeling bits and pieces of each other merging, drifting. Their breathing became more labored, as each uttered the other’s name, sighing, moaning, like the wind outside the cave.

Their movements became more hurried, more labored, as the tempo of their lovemaking increased. Jase heard her little cry and instantly held her a little away, furious with himself for hurting her.

"No. Don’t stop. Just love me."

September had worried that she wouldn’t know what to do, or how to tell him of her fears. Now she realized no words were needed. And no instructions were necessary. There was a universal language of love.

This was why she had been born. For this man alone.

Pleasure built, intensified, until, at her cry of exaltation, Jase followed her into shuddering ecstacy.

They lay, still locked together, his face buried against her shoulder, her hand gently brushing the damp hair from his face.

It had all been so beautiful. Deke Kenyon and Snake Rawlins no longer existed. Their weak imitations of love had been a mockery. With Jase, she didn’t feel ashamed or wicked. This man’s loving had unleashed feelings she had never even known she possessed. Passion. Desire. Tenderness. Trust. She swallowed down the lump which formed in her throat. She didn’t want to cry and spoil everything. But the tears wouldn’t be held back. With a little sob, the tears rolled down her cheeks, joining the damp sheen of his skin.

He touched a fingertip to her cheek. "Tears?"

"No," she sniffed.

"It’s all right," he murmured, rolling to his side and bringing her into the circle of his arms. "It’s all right to cry over good things, beautiful things."

How did he know? "It is?"

"Yes."

As he began to draw the robe around them, she glanced down at the scar along his stomach. Her lips had touched the jagged ridge of skin, which ran from his rib across his stomach to his hip.

Touching a finger to it now, she asked, "How did you get this?"

He had gone very still. For long moments he was silent, then he said simply, "A fight. Last year."

"You must have nearly died."

His eyes narrowed. "It was close."

"What happened, Jase?" She trailed a fingertip along the raised flesh.

"I was after a thief and murderer who was bilking miners out of their claims. He jumped me, left me bleeding in the snow, and took off with my supplies and team."

"How did you manage to survive?"

He caught her hand to still the trembling which her touch caused. It didn’t seem possible that he could want her again so soon. "I was found by an old miner who had walked from his own mine to visit a friend. His friend was dead, and I was close to it. He dragged me to his cabin and did what he could. Afterward, I spent several months in a hospital in San Francisco."

So, September thought, the rumors about Jase were true. He had just admitted he was after a thief and murderer. That had to mean he really was a bounty hunter. Or a hired gun.

Feeling the little tremors of fear that coursed through her, Jase drew her tight against him and wrapped the fur around them. "Sleep for a little while. And when you wake, I’ll still be here, holding you, ready to love you again."

To love you again.
Love, she thought. How did it happen? How did you stop it? She loved Jase Conroy. It was that simple. And she didn’t know anything about him, except that he was a hired gun, or a bounty hunter. And when he helped her find her father, Jase would go on about his business, out of her life, and out of her arms forever.

She shivered and drew him closer. For this one night, he was hers. And if she had to, she would make this night of love last a lifetime.

"I’m not sleepy, Jase. Just hungry. For you."

He smiled and brought his lips to her throat. "I’m glad to hear it. Because I have a hunger, too. That only you can satisfy."

Beneath her fragile beauty, he could feel her quiet strength. He was no longer certain who was leading and who was following. But it no longer mattered. He would gladly surrender to her power.

This time, he promised himself, he would try to be a gentle lover. As gentle as he could be, with the need for this woman clouding his vision and driving him like a madman.