Arctic Enemy

by Linda Harrel

  With the snowmobile tucked into the shelter of the igloo, a tarpaulin roped securely over it, Guy and Sarah struggled against the storm with their precious bundles of supplies. The blizzard was descending on them with terrifying speed. The igloo, which had seemed within arm's reach only moments before, now receded into the swirling snow.

  Enclosed in a world of total whiteness, Sarah stumbled blindly down some crude ice steps. Guy yanked back the flap of skin that covered the entrance tunnel. Roughly, his hand found the top of her head and pressed her to her knees. The wind and thick snow vanished, but were replaced by a silence and darkness that were equally disconcerting.

  'I can't see!' she protested, inching haltingly along the constricting tunnel.

  'Just feel ahead of you!' he ordered from behind her. 'It will open out in another foot or two.'

  Cautiously she did as she was told, suppressing a nibble of horror at the thought of what might lie ahead in the blackness. She heard fumbling, tinny noises and the striking of a match. A pale orange flame flared and grew, bathing them in golden light and casting tall, wildly flickering shadows on the dome above them.

  'What do you think?' said Guy, setting the lantern down on a wide, raised platform in front of them.

  Sarah pushed back her hood and brushed snow from her bangs. 'It's bigger than I thought it would be. And more intricate.'

  'Igloos are nothing short of ingenious,' he said, rummaging through a dunnage bag. 'Those ice blocks actually form an inward spiral. And this pit that we're in now traps the cold air and keeps it away from the sleeping platform. A more permanent shelter would have glazed walls, ice windows, carved storage areas, and… well, that's a bonus!'

  He pointed to a pile of animal skins lining the sleeping area. 'They'll insulate us from below.'

  Sarah regarded them unenthusiastically. She said, suddenly very sober, 'Is there any chance— really—that we could freeze here tonight? I want you to tell me the truth. I promise I won't get hysterical or cry.'

  'None,' he replied firmly. 'And I'm not saying that just to be easy on you. We'll be uncomfortable, we'll have to use common sense. But our clothes and sleeping bags are designed for the Arctic. We've got warm food, and each other. Trust me.'

  The temperature inside their shelter was plummeting rapidly and a bone-deep cold was beginning to seep through their clothes. Quickly they finished unpacking their supplies. Sarah sat back on her heels and regarded all that stood between them and an icy death: two sleeping bags, a first aid kit, tiny packets of freeze-dried food, a minute solid fuel stove.

  'Oh, Guy,' she said wistfully, 'just a few miles back there lies warmth and clean sheets and the Enterprise's cooks making lovely things for dinner! It's such a short distance… we could even walk it if it weren't for the storm.'

  Guy was priming the stove, heating them sweet tea to keep up their resistance to the cold. 'I have something else that will cheer you up,' he said. 'Something not on the official list of survival supplies.' He dug into an inside picket and produced a silver flask. 'Good French brandy,' he announced. He poured some into the cap and handed it to her. 'Drink it,' he ordered. 'It'll do you good.'

  Sarah sipped and felt the soft warmth spread through her. Revived a little, she propped one of the rolled sleeping bags against the wall and leaned back. What an odd place for the two of them to end up in! she thought, sipping more brandy. Trapped in that pale capsule of dancing amber light, half buried beneath drifting, obliterating snow.

  What were the people back at the ship thinking now? Did they know it was like this? She stole a cautious look at Guy as he took a long drink from the flask. His chin was tipped, exposing the underside of his jaw and the pulse point there. Perhaps it was just the brandy, but she felt that suddenly a peace had fallen over them.

  'It's funny, isn't it?' she said dreamily. 'Here we are, horrified at the thought of spending a single night in the north, even though people have survived under these conditions, without all our equipment, for hundreds of years.'

  He leaned back beside her, long legs out-stretched, his ankles crossed casually. 'You're right there. It's not the climate that poses the threat to the native culture.'

  'I guess you mean the Enterprise does,' she replied. 'You know, since you're a part owner of Freeland Shipping, I find your hostility towards the ship incomprehensible. What do you hope to gain, undermining her the way you do?'

  'Is that what you really think, or are you parroting things you hear Tony say?'

  'I form my own opinions, Guy. And I'd have to be blind not to see your aversion.'

  'Everything I do on the Enterprise, I do for the good of the entire company. I wish I could say the same for Tony. He couldn't wait to thrust Freeland Shipping into the twenty-first century, whether it was ready for it or not.'

  The brandy was beginning to unleash Sarah from prudent restraint. 'Rumour has it,' she said, 'that you and Tony fought it out in the boardroom over the L.N.G. contract and that you lost.'

  Even in that ghostly light, she could see anger flare his nostrils. 'There's some truth in that, I suppose,' he said, his voice dangerously calm. 'But I didn't oppose the Enterprise in principle… I was against certain terms of Tony's proposal that eventually won us the contract. I won't say what those terms were.'

  Sarah felt piqued. 'I wasn't asking you to tell me any secrets,' she replied defensively.

  'There's only one thing you need to know,' he said. 'No matter what problems there may be between Tony and me, I don't let my personal feelings affect my professional judgment. Now that the Arctic Enterprise is a reality, I only want her to succeed.'

  'Did it ever occur to you,' she asked, pulling her knees tight to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, 'that in trying to master your job, you've become bogged down in detail and lost your perspective?'

  'I see… and it takes a mind like Tony's to give purpose and direction to the company?'

  'Those are your words, not mine!'

  'Well, that's what would pass for a theory from someone who hasn't the faintest idea what she's talking about.'

  'You have the most amazing ego I've ever had the misfortune to be cooped up with!' she snapped, flaring.

  'That's tough,' he said unpleasantly. 'But I deal in facts… in all those tiresome details that get in the way of the soaring visionary minds like Tony's. I also deal in the price others pay for the gambles of their superiors. Tony's never pulled a charred hunk of flesh that used to be a man out of some blasted wreckage—I have.'

  'And that's how you see the Enterprise. Just another disaster waiting to happen?'

  'God, I hope not, I really do.'

  'Tell me something,' she prodded. 'Have you seen a single thing on the Enterprise that gives you grounds for your fears?'

  'No,' he observed slowly. 'On the contrary, I'm impressed. Now, have you got what you were pushing for?'

  'What is that supposed to mean?'

  'It means that you probably feel quite justified, now, in writing a nice, cheery story that your readers can thumb through over their breakfast coffee. No difficult issues to wrestle with, nothing to cloud their day.'

  So much for their truce! Sarah fumed silently. She tried, unsuccessfully, to push away the suspicion that had been nibbling at her for days, now—that Guy thought she had been brought aboard the Enterprise for the sole purpose of whitewashing the venture.

  If that were true, then in his eyes she had to be one of two things: either a wide-eyed ingénue who had fallen at Tony's feet, dazzled by his wealth and social position… or a scheming, grasping opportunist. Surely she was wrong. He couldn't believe that of her!

  She had come to agree with so many of the things he said. She had learned to give him grudging respect. In other circumstances, she thought they might have been friends. But instead, the gap between them widened at lightning speed.

  She looked at the chiselled profile, the cheekbones underlined by the leaping shadows. The ruddy glow of his cheeks had intensified, and the cleft in
his chin deepened.

  Like Tony, he had all the culture and refinement of his position. But unlike his cousin, who had honed and polished himself to perfection, Guy seemed carelessly unaware of his appeal. The life he'd lived had coarsened him just enough to make him interesting. It had made him a man of contrasts and contradictions. He had a brilliant mind, schooled in the most advanced technology, yet he championed the oldest, most traditional forms of seamanship.

  The sensible thing to do was to confront him with her suspicions and defend herself. Yet her pride stood firmly in the way. She realised that she was hurt just to think that he might hold such a low opinion of her. She was hurt very badly. Without warning, Sarah began to shiver uncontrollably. As she sat with her painful musing, the gale had borne down on them in earnest and the temperature had dropped past zero.

  'Talk's over,' said Guy, springing to a crouch. 'It's going to be a long, bitter night. I'll organise the supplies in arm's reach, you zip those two bags together.'

  'I will not. I'll sleep on my own, if you don't mind,' she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

  'I do mind. You may want to freeze to death to protect your precious modesty, but I don't. You don't think I have designs on your body, do you?' he asked witheringly.

  'Of course not,' she snapped, but she turned her back to him so that he could not see the blood that burned in her cheeks.

  She yanked off her mittens and her fingers stiffened instantly from the shock of the cold. Clumsily, she struggled with the two zippers, her hands unfeeling, until she succeeded in forming a single plump bag.

  They removed their heavy boots and stuffed their parkas down inside the sleeping bag. 'But leave your cap on,' Guy warned. 'You lose a lot of heat through your head.'

  Ill at ease, her teeth chattering, Sarah climbed into the bag, followed roughly by Guy. He reached out and turned off the lantern, plunging them into a blackness so total that Sarah had to resist the impulse to cry out against it.

  She was now more worried about their fate than she cared to admit to him. The cold was truly terrifying. Her feet and hands ached so badly she could have cried. Her whole body cried out for warmth and sleep.

  She felt Guy roll to his side and cup himself to her, his thighs snug behind hers, her bottom resting in the bend of his hips. She wished she did not crave the warm enclosure of his body, but she did—desperately. The cocoon of heat he formed around her was irresistible. Slowly, slowly her anger-tensed muscles relaxed and she uncoiled gratefully against his sheltering body.

  As the long Arctic night closed around them, she heard his breathing deepen, gradually taking on the rhythm of sleep. His breath was gentle against her neck. He was asleep, and she was, she supposed, safe. He had absolutely no intention of taking advantage of their situation, despite the kiss he had once wrenched from her.

  Behind her, he stirred and murmured something unintelligible. His arm slipped around her waist and loosely cupped her breast. She held her breath, but he did not wake.

  Pressing her eyelids tightly together, she willed sleep to come for her, too. But it evaded her, held at bay by the irresistible pleasure that had begun to flow through her. Desire stirred in her for a man who slept, uncaring, beside her. For the first time in her life she felt the pain of a wanting that was not returned. The extent of her need for Guy shocked her.

  Only much later did exhaustion push her down into a restless, dream-filled sleep as troubled as the night around them. In her nightmares she saw herself imprisoned in a floating, suffocating bubble, drifting away from everything she knew, being sucked into a swirling, icy vortex. She called out his name in anguish.

  Groggy with sleep, Guy turned on to his back, his strong arm dragging her half on top of him. Her head came to rest in the hollow of his shoulder, her leg between his thighs. Her eyes opened, and the dream vanished. But the cold had not gone away. Shivering, she burrowed into his embrace like a tiny, soft animal. Though still asleep, he responded to her soft, demanding presence. He brought a hand to her cheek and pressed her face gently to his.

  His lips were still soft with sleep against her temple. She knew that for this one frozen moment in time, there were to be no hard, accusing words from that mouth. A dreamlike longing washed over her.

  For so long she had postponed love. There had been too many men who had not seemed worth the distraction from her goals. Men who gave her moments of gentle pleasure, but who never intrigued, maddened and, ultimately, inflamed her the way this man now did.

  She gave herself over to the sweet delight of feeling him. Her fingers traced the planes of his face and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes that she had come to know so well. His power and strength drew her like a magnet. Here was a man that complemented her in will.

  The defences that she had marshalled so carefully over the years began to fall away. She no longer wanted to argue or find fault—or deny her yearning one moment longer. She wanted him to make love to her.

  '… Sarah?' He was awake now, concern for her in his hoarse voice.

  'I'm here…' she whispered. 'It's all right…'

  He spoke her name again, his voice low and insistent. In answer, she tilted her chin, brushing her lips against his with exquisite tenderness.

  His mouth closed over hers, tentatively at first. But when he heard the tiny, sobbing breath she drew and understood her need of him, he unleashed the full power of his passion. His lips parted hers, drawing soft moans from her.

  He took her hips easily in his large hands and in a smooth, forceful movement, shifted her off of him and pressed her back on to the voluptuous layers of down and fur. The weight of his body obliterated whatever reserve she had left. In reply to his hypnotic movement she lifted her hips to him, her arms circling his neck, her face buried in helpless surrender against his chest.

  Crouched over her, his knees pinning her beneath him, Guy slipped his hands beneath her sweater, pulling it up to expose the curve of her tiny waist. Like a worshipper, he kissed her tenderly from side to side, then drew his tongue lightly from her navel to the bottom curve of her breast.

  Sarah's head arched to one side. 'Oh, Guy… Guy!'

  His hands slid up to her shoulders and he pressed his forehead against her stomach. 'I know… I know,' he whispered. He was struggling for his voice, and she understood that he, too, was experiencing a pleasure so intense that it verged on agony. Lowering himself on to her again, he cupped her face in his hands and covered it with a dozen longing kisses.

  'You're so beautiful,' he murmured, his voice rough with passion. 'I've wanted you—you knew that!'

  She hadn't. Not really. But the knowledge that he did stripped her emotions bare. She clung to him like a woman drowning, for no one, ever, had loosed such feeling in her.

  'Trust me,' he whispered, cradling and stroking her. 'I want this to be so good for you, better than it ever was with Tony. You're going to forget him, Sarah.'

  It was like a fist in her stomach. She felt choked with the nausea that rose in her. The heat that had flushed her skin seconds before was replaced by a chill that left her clammy and shivering. Wounded, yet outraged, she tried to scramble out of his embrace.

  'Better than what with Tony!' she demanded in a strangled voice. 'You think I sleep with him, don't you!'

  Startled by the intensity of her reaction, Guy pulled back from her. 'Don't try to tell me,' he scoffed, 'that you're going to plead innocence:— not after the display of expertise I've just witnessed! I've seen the two of you together. I heard you accept his invitation to stay with him in England. In fact, you made very sure we all heard you, didn't you?'

  'No!' she pleaded. 'It's not that way at all—you don't understand!'

  'Oh, come on, Sarah!' he taunted. 'Everyone knows what an aphrodisiac wealth and power is. Why should you be any more immune to it than other women?'

  The brutal cutting off of pleasure was a physical pain. And so was the understanding that her first true response to sensuality, given so lovingly
and unashamedly, had been perceived as the soulless performance of a seasoned professional. What she had offered him so ingenuously was being tossed back at her with an experienced man's scorn and disrespect.

  At least the darkness hid her tears from him. 'I loathe you,' she said. 'I think I've hated you and your insufferable ego since I first saw you!'

  'Maybe you do,' he jeered. 'But that didn't stop me from exciting you.'

  'You don't excite me!' she shot back, knowing even as she spoke how ridiculous her protest must have sounded. Fluttering in his arms like a bird snared in a net, she pushed him away and huddled miserably as far from him as the narrow confines of the sleeping bag would allow.

  The Arctic sun rose clear and bright, igniting a billion sparks in the unsullied snow that blanketed the land. Crawling on hands and knees from the mouth of the tunnel, Sarah blinked in pain at the brilliance of the morning.

  She stood still for a very long time, staring at the glory of the untouched snow, and marvelled that they had survived the night. At least, physic-ally, they had come through. But in no other way had she and Guy survived, she knew with a bitter, aching heart. Whatever relationship they had once struggled to maintain was now shattered, completely and for ever. The radiance of the dawn held only mockery for her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  'Terrified!' pronounced Katie. 'I'd be quaking in my boots. But having a man like Captain Court to look after you must have been a comfort.'

  'Uh-huh…' murmured Sarah noncommittally.

  'I'll bet he took right over,' Katie breezed on. 'And what about the hunters at the camp? You haven't told us anything—'

  'Look!' cried Sarah, relief flooding her voice. 'Here's Mr Dunn. Perhaps he can tell us what's happening.'

  Ever since the two young women had met in the lounge that afternoon, Katie had been trying to extract information from Sarah about the three-hour excursion that had turned into an overnight drama. Sarah had dodged and weaved as best she could, but she was fast running out of stories about the joys of spotting a snow goose or a seal sunning itself.