September's Dream

by Ruth Ryan Langan

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.

  Chapter Twenty

  There was no time to appreciate the glory of the sunrise which turned the heavens to faint flickers of pale dawn, then palest shell pink, before giving way to blood red ribbons which stained the sky.

  Before the first rays of the sun, September and Jase loaded the sled. The dogs, chafing after the long days of their enforced idleness, yammered and bawled as they danced about the harness.

  Noting the pinched look of pain on Jase’s face as he struggled with the skittish animals, September began fastening their harnesses. He gave her a quick nod of appreciation before bending to his task.

  "You’ll have to walk until we’ve climbed that far peak," he explained almost apologetically. "Then you can climb aboard."

  She glanced at the jagged mountains in the distance. September accepted his grudging explanation with a light heart. For the first time, he seemed almost sorry that she would have to suffer the difficult climb. It was a small concession, but to her, an important one. Until this moment, he had acted as though she should be grateful just to be allowed to accompany him on the trip. Her discomfort, the punishment her body had to endure, had seemed of no concern to him. Now their relationship had altered. Her heart soared. Jase cared about her.

  All morning the dogs strained against the harness, painstakingly drawing the heavily laden sled up the steep mountain pass. By late afternoon, they stopped on the crest of a hill to rest.

  Eating her cold meat in silence, September glanced at Jase, slumped against a boulder. The ravages of the pain this trip had cost him were etched on his face. His eyes were red-rimmed, his mouth a thin, tight line.

  When he whistled the dogs up out of their snowy slumber and drew back the whip, she saw him wince in pain.

  "Why don’t you ride the sled for a while? I’ll handle the team."

  He turned to her in disbelief. "The team is even rougher than usual after that long layover. You couldn’t possibly handle them."

  "You’d be amazed what I can do in an emergency. I handled the team the night you were attacked. I can do it again."

  His features were grim. "Climb aboard."

  She shrugged and settled herself on the sled. Men. They were so damnably obstinate.

  With a flick of the whip, the dogs bounded forward. Behind her, Jase gripped the handles of the sled and rode the runners. The wind whistled past their faces, burning their skin, stinging their eyes until they were clouded with tears.

  The land was smooth and even here, and the dogs made good time, turning only to avoid a tree or half-hidden boulder.

  By late afternoon, the air had grown colder, until breathing sent needles of pain through their lungs. Long before dark, Jase stopped the team in a depression of some rocks and began to cut blocks of ice for their shelter. While he worked, September started a fire and set slabs of deer meat on a spit. While the meat cooked, she cut great chunks of raw meat for the dogs.

  They ate quickly, then led the team inside against the frigid night air. Gratefully Jase sank to the bed of pelts. Before September had removed her outer garments, he had slipped into an exhausted sleep.

  * * *

  It was early next morning when they arrived at the first mine along the Klondike. September felt a tremble of excitement.

  "Old Edgar’s been here longer than anyone," Jase explained as they drew near the mine. "He may have seen your father."

  September noticed a tumbledown shack, with huge gaps between the logs which formed the walls.

  "How does he keep warm in this weather?"

  "Adds another layer of clothing. You’ll enjoy him. He’s a real character. He’s been here for over a year now, and I bet he’s stashed away more gold than anyone in Alaska. But he claims he stil
l doesn’t have enough to go back to civilization and impress the sweetheart he left behind." Jase chuckled. "If you ask me, I think he just likes his life of adventure too much to give it up and go home. Back in California he’ll just be another husband and farmer."

  Yes, September thought as they rounded the shed and pulled up beside a series of sluice boxes. Some men needed the thrill of adventure. They would never be content to live like normal people. Like her father. Her heart lurched. Like Jase.

  "Hey, Edgar," Jase called, cupping his hands. "Come see the pretty visitor I’ve brought you."

  As September stepped from the sled, Jase said, "Sort through those supplies and find a pipe and pouch of tobacco. Last time I was through these parts, I promised old Edgar I’d bring him the one thing he said he missed most."

  September rummaged through their supplies while Jase ambled toward the shed. She could hear him calling cheerfully as he threw open the door. A moment later she heard his voice swearing in rage. Dropping everything, she ran to the cabin. In the doorway, she stopped. All the color drained from her face.

  What little had once been in the shed was now destroyed. A crude table and chair were smashed against the wall. A bedroll had been torn apart, bits and pieces of blanket and canvas strewn about the room. A wooden box had been smashed, its contents spilled about, forming a trail of litter to the door. And in the corner, his body bloodied and battered beyond recognition, lay the figure of an old man.

  At the strangled sound from her lips, Jase turned. "Get out of here. You don’t want to see this."

  She stood frozen, unable to move. "Is that— Edgar?"

  He nodded.

  "Was it a wild animal?"

  His face contorted. "Only one animal does something like this." His voice sent chills along her spine. "Man."

  "Oh, Jase." She covered her face and turned away. "Why would anyone want to do this to a lone old man?"

  "Gold. Gold turns people into devils. They’ll do anything to have it. Covet. Steal. Kill. Slaughter the old, the young, the innocent. No price is too high."

  His voice was fading, coming from a great distance. A blackness seemed to be closing in. She slumped in the doorway.