"Some people did. My father was a trapper. My mother was a teacher. She was all set to go back home to England, by way of proper Boston. But after she met my father, she decided she wanted to stay here. It was a wonderful place to grow up. Clean. Untouched. A paradise."
"It’s strange, hearing you call this wilderness a paradise."
He pointed to the shaggy forests, looming like sentinals in the pristine setting. "There’s enough game here so that a man need never go hungry. The lakes are teeming with fish." His voice softened. "You should see these valleys in the summer."
"It’s hard to picture this wilderness without snow covering it."
He chuckled, a deep, warm sound. "In June, the sun shines around the clock."
She looked astonished.
"It’s true. They call this the Land of the Midnight Sun. And in July, the sun shines twenty hours a day. The temperature rises to eighty or more degrees, melting some of the frost and providing irrigation. The land is dotted with flowers. I’ve seen vegetables as big as a man’s head."
"Now I know you’re teasing me," September muttered.
He touched a strand of her hair, then quickly dropped it. "It’s all true. You’d love it here in summer."
At his touch her mouth went dry. She swallowed. "If I didn’t freeze to death first in winter."
"You just have to look a little harder to see the beauty," he offered. "Listen."
She cocked her head and heard a muted sound.
"A snowy owl," he whispered. "And there." He pointed to a dark shadow circling in the sky. "Hawk. Looking for some sign of life in the snow. He’s hungry."
He pointed to the horizon. "I think the sunsets over these ice fields are the prettiest in the world."
She nodded her agreement.
"And the silence. Listen to it. It’s so peaceful," he murmured.
September sat beside him, listening to the night sounds. It was true. In Skagway, as in San Francisco, there had always been gunshots and rough voices, shouting, laughter, the sounds of fighting, and loving, and living. But here, there was time to think, to feel, to savor.
She turned to watch Jase as he smoked contentedly. There was a softness in his features that she’d never seen before. In Skagway, and along the trail, there was a toughness about him. He was a man determined to do a job, without distraction. But here, with a fire to warm his back and a ritual evening cigarette when the chores were done, he seemed a man at peace with himself.
When he had smoked the cigarette to the end, he tossed it into the snow and turned to her. "You must be tired. If you’ll help me up, we’ll turn in."
With his arm around her shoulders, she supported him back to the bed of furs.
"Sorry to be such a burden," he grumbled.
"You’re no such thing. In a few days you’ll feel much stronger. You’ll see."
She settled him down among the pelts, then added a log to the fire. Slipping off his flannel shirt, she lay it over a rock, then paused before climbing in beside him.
"Do you need anything?"
Jase watched the way the firelight touched her face with light and shadow. "Nothing."
As she lifted the edge of the fur, he caught sight of the bruises on her wrist and arm.
Angrily he caught her hand, holding her fast. "What are those?"
She avoided his eyes. "They’re nothing."
His nostrils flared. "Nothing? You have one here, and here, and over here." His fingers traced her wrists, her upper arm. "How did you get them?"
Her voice was barely a whisper. "You thought the wolves were attacking while you slept."
His eyes narrowed fractionally. "I did this to you?"
She pulled her hand away. "You didn’t know what you were doing."
She saw his gaze move up to the marks on her throat. Quickly she turned away and slid between the covers.
"My God. I tried to choke you." His voice sounded strangled.
"Don’t, Jase. Let it be."
"Let’s finish this. Answer me. Did I try to choke you?"
"Yes." It was a whisper.
"September." She heard the command in his tone. "Look at me."
Slowly she turned.
"What else did I do to you?"
"Jase, it doesn’t matter now. You’re mending. Soon you’ll be strong enough to travel. Let’s not talk—"
"What else?"
She lay very still beside him, trying not to touch him with any part of her body. "You’re very strong. You tossed me against the wall once. We wrestled on the bed several times." She gave him a half-smile. "And you swore a blue streak when I fought back. I learned some new cuss words I’d never heard before."
His eyes went dark, as dark as the midnight sky. His voice was a low rumble of self-loathing. "I’m sorry, September. I’d never knowingly hurt you."
Hearing the pain in his tone, she leaned up on one elbow. "Don’t think about it, Jase. You were out of your head with the fever. You didn’t know what you were doing."
"I could have killed you."
She heard the anguish in his voice.
"But you didn’t. Now let it be. I don’t want to talk about it again." She touched his arm. "My Ma used to say, ‘What happened yesterday shouldn’t be argued about tomorrow.’"
For long moments he stared at her hand. Without a word he lifted it to his mouth and pressed his lips to the bruises at her wrist.
Fire and ice raced along her arm, then seemed to radiate through her whole body.
Very slowly, he moved his mouth along her arm, then pressed his lips to the bruise on the inside of her elbow. At the touch of his lips, she felt her flesh begin to heat. He caught her other hand and she sank back against the furs. Lifting her hand, he pressed his lips to the bruises at her wrist, then rolled to his side. His gaze riveted on the marks at her throat. Before she could protest, he touched his lips to the spot.
Her heart leaped, then began hammering in her chest. Never, never had a man’s touch been so gentle. She swallowed and pushed a hand to his chest, trying to keep a barrier between them. With his left hand he traced the hollow of her throat, then moved the narrow band of her chemise to reveal the little birthmark at her shoulder.
"Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?" he asked gruffly as he bent his lips to her shoulder.
He dropped little butterfly kisses along her skin and was rewarded with a sigh which seemed to come from deep within her.
"You walked into Mueller’s Store and began describing your father. And without thinking, you revealed your birthmark, which you claimed was identical to his."
September felt her cheeks flame as she recalled the scene.
"Your skin is so soft," he murmured almost in reverence. He ran a work-roughened finger along the slender column of her throat, then lower, to her collarbone, then lower still, until he touched the lacy top of her chemise.
She crossed her hands across her breasts, preventing him from further exploration. She wanted to open her arms wide and cling to him. Why didn’t she want to stop Jase, as she had stopped the others? What was there about this man’s touch which left her breathless for more?
Jase cursed the pain in his right shoulder and moved to a more comfortable position. Leaning over her, he brushed his lips across her eyelids, then, with his mouth slightly open, he traced the curve of her cheek, stopped to nip her earlobe, then slowly moved along her jaw.
September’s heart seemed to stop beating. She forgot to breathe. She kept her eyes firmly closed. All her being was focused on the need for his lips on hers. Still he hesitated, tracing her full lower lip with his tongue. She swallowed. It was an eternity of waiting and wanting. If only she knew what to do.
"Put your arms around me, September."
Her eyes flew open. She stared into the darkest eyes she had ever seen.
"When I kiss you, I want you to hold me," he whispered.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, her arms came around him, thrilling to the warm flesh beneath her touch.
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His lips covered hers in a searing kiss. He took her fully into the kiss, his lips moving, his tongue expertly parting her lips and probing the sweetness of her mouth.
She had always wondered how she would swallow when a man kissed her like this. That fear dissolved as she was caught up in feelings too powerful for thought.
Her breasts were flattened against his chest. She was so soft, so small in his arms. She fit so perfectly to him, as if she had been made for him alone.
As he took the kiss deeper, he felt her hands clutch and knead the skin of his back. All this time he had remembered the taste of her, the wonderful woman scent of her, the way she had felt in his arms the first time he kissed her. So many nights since then he had lain awake, dreaming of holding her like this. He had known this kiss would unleash the smoldering passion he had nurtured for so long. And he had hoped that she would react like this to his touch. What he hadn’t anticipated was the hard, driving need. It fired him, drove him, consumed him. He wanted her as he had never wanted any woman before.
September became caught up in the kiss, reveling in the wonderful dark mysteries of him. He tasted faintly of whiskey and tobacco. His body was lean and muscled, complementing her softness. His work-roughened hands felt wonderful against her fine skin. He had been surprisingly gentle, helping her overcome her shyness. But now, as he took the kiss deeper, she could feel his control slipping.
She knew this could lead to that strange, mysterious place she had never been. The thought of making love with Deke had offended her. And Snake had repulsed her. But with Jase everything was different.
Her body was a mass of nerve endings. As his hands moved gently along her sides, his thumbs grazed the soft swell of her breasts. Instantly, she flinched and began to push away. No man had ever touched her like this before. His hands moved to her back, making gentle circles, until she relaxed once more in his arms. Then once again his thumbs found her breasts. This time, although she gave a little gasp, she didn’t push away. As his thumbs teased her nipples, she felt them grow hard. Deep inside her something tightened, then began throbbing.
A little moan escaped her lips. Arching herself slightly, she murmured his name as he slid down the straps of her chemise and brought his lips to her breast.
September had never known such feelings. She had never dreamed a man’s hands and lips could bring such pleasure. Her bones had melted. Her whole body seemed to have turned to liquid. She moved in his arms, awash in the sensual pleasure of his touch.
He moved to his back and brought her on top of him. Her eyes, when she looked down into his, were darkened with desire.
He felt her tremble. "Oh, Jase. I’m so afraid. I’ve never felt like this before."
"I want you, September. As I’ve never wanted anyone, anything."
She brushed her lips over his, and heard his groan of pleasure. Then she pulled back.
I’m afraid, she thought. I’m so afraid. There are things I should know. But I don’t. And Jase will realize, and be disappointed. And then he’ll turn away from me. Oh, Mama. Why didn’t we ever talk about love?
Jase sensed her hesitation. "What’s wrong?"
"Nothing," she lied, struggling for some semblance of sanity. "I want—to go to sleep."
His eyes narrowed slightly. The hands at her back stilled. If only he had the words to tell her how he felt. The con man on the boat would have found the words. And the miner with his sack of gold didn’t need words. After all the others, she probably found him a crude disappointment. What had he been thinking of, that he should try to take a beautiful woman like September on a primitive bed of furs in a cave?
Suddenly Jase’s shoulder throbbed. The pain in his leg became a knife thrust. Yet everything paled next to the pain in his heart. "We both need sleep. It’s been a long ordeal. I just lost my head." He felt the dampness of her tears against his skin. "Are you crying?"
She pushed away, embarrassed. "No. Something in my eye, I guess."
"You need some sleep. We both do." He rolled away from her.
Feeling more alone than at any time in her life, September bit back the sob that threatened to choke her. Angrily brushing away the tears, she took a long, shuddering sigh and forced herself to he very still.
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.
Chapter Nineteen
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 ma
ntle 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.
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