The Bearwalker's Daughter (24 page)

Nothing happened. No howls, only the wind rustling the stark trees overhead and the leaves of an ancient gnarled oak. The moon and the glittering stars washed a pearly stream down through the branches.

Karin lifted a limp hand and pointed. “Home,” she whispered, and sagged against him.

To Jack’s surprise, the McNeal cabin lay just ahead. In his haste to escape the wolves, he’d hardly noticed the route they’d taken. Even so, he never meant to end up here. Not after encountering John McNeal and the others hurling threats across the stream. Had he gone in circles?

Then it occurred to him just where the wolves had been sent and who’d have to fend them off tonight if they dared cross that stream. Shequenor had bought them brief respite. Iron-hard as that warrior was, even he must see Karin’s need now.

Jack wasn’t even certain she was conscious as he prodded Peki the last of the way to the old homestead. Dry leaves swirled around the dark outline of the log cabin and stable.

Bring
her
to
me
on
the
morrow
, the all too familiar voice directed in his head.

Anger roiled up in Jack. “She’s not strong enough,” he bit out to the listening forest, well accustomed to these bizarre arguments with the unseen beast.

An answering roar split his ears.

But Jack was unmoved. “Keep the men at bay. I’ll damn well see to Karin before I haul her one step farther.”

With that, Shequenor must content himself or take Jack on. And in his volatile state he was prepared to fight the whole bloody world for Karin.

Chapter Seventeen

Soothing warmth lapped over Karin and she heard the crackle of wood, smelled the fragrant hickory smoke. A pile of dry blankets and soft fur encased her like balm. If her life depended on it, and maybe it did and she didn’t realize, she couldn’t have moved from her cozy nest. Where that even was she didn’t know, or how she’d come to be here, only that she was tucked in as snugly as if Neeley had done the deed. No one tucked like Neeley did. But a part of Karin sensed that dear soul had gone and another stepped in.

Who, then?

A man’s rugged good looks floated in her mind. Ah yes, Jack. He must’ve brought her home...her first home, where she felt closer to her mother.

Jack would keep guard over her and watch for whatever threatened them. She felt certain something or someone did, but for now, that wasn’t her concern. Peace enveloped her and she fell more deeply asleep.

When Karin awoke again, not that she’d really been aware before, she opened heavy eyes and looked around. She lay on the thick bearskin not far from the glowing hearth in the old cabin. Jack must have used every blanket left in the house and those in the bedroll to wrap her, save one.

He stood with his back to her, bare from the waist up and a striped woven blanket draped around his lower half. Likely he wore nothing beneath that if she could see. Admittedly, an unladylike part of her wanted to.

She chided herself and lifted her eyes to the orange flames playing over his muscular torso, corded arms, and the loose chestnut hair spreading down over his broad shoulders. He wasn’t muddy as she’d expected him to be from their hellish evening, but had washed off the dirt and creek water.

My, he was golden in the mellow light, every glorious inch of him. Even in her drowsy state, his powerful appeal struck responsive tremors through her. And she saw him only from the back now. When he turned, his devastatingly handsome face would be her undoing, even apart from his recent bruises. She needed strength to absorb his pulsing allure. Breakfast, at least.

Last night’s wild right was a nightmarish blur, but she knew that running off with Jack had brought them both near to ruin and death. What lay ahead, she couldn’t begin to fathom. Would her angry kinsmen burst through the door? And what of Shequenor, was he friend or foe? Though terribly uncertain about this strangest of all fathers, she couldn’t turn away from Jack now any more than she could tear her eyes from a natural wonder.

His every move intrigued her. She watched the muscles ripple in his back as he bent to stir something in the black kettle suspended over the flames. The pleasing scent of sassafras wafted in the steam. Had he actually brewed tea from the spicy roots of the trees that grew out back?

Beneath the kettle, nearer the flames and skewered on an iron rod, a plump rabbit sizzled over the red coals. The scent of roasting meat mixed with the tea in an appetizing blend. Jack dipped a wooden ladle into the fragrant liquid and poured it into an earthenware mug. He sipped appreciatively, seemingly content with his efforts.

“Is that for me?” she asked.

He swiveled, fixing his tender gaze on her. As if that weren’t enough to render her witless, he smiled in a dazzling flash of white teeth. Fire rushed through her at the warmth in his eyes. Light from the hearth reflected in the rosy iridescence in the quartz suspended at his neck and drew her attention back to his bare chest. She almost sighed at the tantalizing sight.

He knelt beside her and held out the mug. “Here.”

She wished his blanket would slip down a little more, but he’d fastened it securely at his waist. She remonstrated with herself again, hoping to God Jack couldn’t read her mind, as she often suspected he did.

Keeping her covers in place with her hand, she sat up. It occurred to her simultaneously that she was quite bare beneath them and not responsible for her state of undress. Her thoughts immediately took a very different bent. Almost too amazed to get the words out, she asked, “Did you strip off my clothes?”

His smile broadened. “You were wet through and senseless, so made no objection. Was I to leave you in all that muddle of drenched cloth?”

“But—you saw me.”

He pushed the mug into her hand. “I tried not to look, I swear, and you were so covered in filth I hardly noticed your nakedness at first. Until I washed you off.”

He broke off at her open-mouthed astonishment. “Drink up while it’s hot.” His lips twitched. “It’s the best I can do for you until the rabbit’s cooked.”

She sipped the spicy brew, but tea was the least of her interests. He’d seen her naked. Naked. She probed his humorous study. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“You feasted your eyes on me, Jack McCray. The least you can do is to tell me what you thought.”

“What I thought—” he repeated, his reply disrupted as he convulsed into doubled over, deep down in the belly laughter; the sort of gut-splitting mirth that rendered him temporarily unable to speak coherently.

“Oh, God,” he sputtered, clutching his middle, tears running down his cheeks.

This wasn’t promising. Karin swallowed the hot liquid between pursed lips. It was a perfectly reasonable question. Here she’d just been agog over his dizzying grandeur and he hadn’t even been completely disrobed.

What did he find so hilarious about her? Was she too skinny, knock-kneed, flat-chested? Had the private place she’d guarded so closely from male eyes tickled his funny bone? ’Twas mortifying to consider and her cheeks flushed so hotly she couldn’t conceal her chagrin even if she’d wanted to.

“Jack!”

“Sorry—” he got out between guffaws, wiping at his eyes, and waving off any further efforts at speech. “Give me a moment, darling.”

Oh, she’d give him more than that. Not being brought up to waste food, she’d finish the tea and then hurl the cup at him.

She never thought to be seen without her clothes by any man until she was wed, if then. She’d even envisioned the security of darkness. Now, all was out in the open and he was downright hysterical.

****

Jack had rarely ever been so debilitated by mirth. He actually ached across his middle and could scarcely catch his breath. His bruised rib protested and it was apparent from the flame in Karin’s face that she did too. He must stop this highly inappropriate response. He must. Biting his lip, screwing up his face, he fought against another explosive outburst, but her unexpected query ran through his mind again and he rolled with laughter. She was too adorable. He thumped his fist on his thigh and the floor. It was too much. He nearly pleaded for mercy.

She set the mug down with the exaggerated gesture of the outraged. “Jack!” In the next breath, she flung herself at him, pounding his chest with balled-up fists.

Blankets slipped down over smooth shoulders worthy of a Cherokee princess. The silver band he’d given her gleamed in the firelight as she lit into him. Her punches lacked the hard muscle he was accustomed to, though, and hardly caught his attention. But the rounded breasts peeking out above her drifting coverlet surely did.

Mounds of glory
, he thought, wishing he’d offered her something like that instead of breaking into laughter.

He captured Karin’s hands to keep her from attacking him further and to prevent her salvaging the blankets. Her nakedness suited him just fine.

“Let go,” she protested, struggling delightfully to pull free from his hold. Clearly a novice, she was unprepared for what followed.

Not Jack. As expected, the cloth dipped lower to fully reveal rounded spheres with a plump nipple in the center making rosy contrast with her olive skin...creamy perfection, and the nipples, he could spend hours in admiration.

His unbridled amusement ceased almost as swiftly as it had come, replaced by throbbing need that seized him with greater intensity than the mirth had. Dear Lord, she was lovely, even more so in her utter lack of awareness. It would be safer to lose himself in laughter again than to give into the molten desire coursing through his veins. But he couldn’t go back to that. Not anymore.

Karin stilled as if she’d sobered at the same realization. Her fists grew limp in his and she stared at him, eyes wide. He gazed into the smoky blue depths and saw the transformation from indignation to fascination. He held her with far more than his hands. Sensing his magnetic draw, he beckoned wordlessly.

She slowly bent nearer, nearer, her black mane cascading over them both. He didn’t rush her, but let her come at her own pace…she hovered a breath away.

“Jack?” Her whisper held an uncertain sort of plea.

Loosening his grip on her hands, he circled his arms around her back, threading his fingers through her tumbled hair. “You are beautiful beyond description.”

Her eyes deepened to an ethereal blue and she melted into him like mist in the warmth of the sun. Her breasts pressed wonderfully to his bare skin and her chest rose and fell against his. He covered her seeking mouth, kissing her in the completeness of lips answering each tug, reciprocating the slightest pressure in sublime communion. The headiest music he’d ever heard pulsed inside him, in his very soul. She was an exquisite being who’d come to him in some marvelous dream. What else?

For starters, he could remain eternally at her mouth, but deeper urges compelled him on. He should constrain himself before this progressed any further. They weren’t yet wed, and there’d be hell to pay, worse than there already was if he were accused of seducing this near sacred virgin. But how could he possibly pull back now when he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone or anything in the whole world?

Was he taking advantage of her innocence if he loved her more than his life, if he intended to wed her at his earliest opportunity? God only knew when that would be—

“None of our kinfolk would. I shall marry you properly as soon as may be. But we’re on the run now, darling. Lord knows for how long.”