by Webb, Peggy
A white-tail deer was poised in the snow-covered thicket, his ears cocked and his shiny black nose sniffing the air. He was a young buck, with his rack just beginning to show evidence of another point.
They were downwind of the deer, so they stood still, undetected, as he arched his graceful neck and looked at the frozen world about him. Lifting a dainty hoof on a fragile-looking leg, he pawed the snow and then shook his head in annoyance as the unfamiliar powdery stuff sprayed around his nose.
Maggie and Adam had to cover their mouths to keep from laughing aloud at the deer’s puzzlement. The movement of their arms alerted the young buck, and his head turned swiftly toward them in alarm. For an instant his soulful brown eyes held them, and then he leaped into the thicket. Maggie and Adam saw a flash of white, the underside of the deer’s tail, as he disappeared into the forest.
With Adam’s hand still on Maggie’s arm, they stood still, afraid to look at each other, knowing that the buck had brought their differences to the surface.
“I don’t see how you could...”
“Now I see why...”
They both spoke at once. Adam looked down at Maggie. “I know what you were thinking, Maggie.”
Their gaze held for a moment before Maggie turned away. Looking off into the forest, she spoke softly. “It’s always there between us, isn’t it?”
Adam pulled her into his arms and crushed her against his chest. “Don’t say it, Maggie. I won’t let it be between us. I love you.”
She pressed her cheeks against the rough wool of his jacket and dug her fingers into his coat sleeves. “Oh, Adam! Why?”
And he understood her anguished cry, her need to know how he could hunt an animal so beautiful. “There’s a primitive challenge in the hunt, a pitting of man against beast. It’s not the thrill of the kill, Maggie. That is anti-climactic. There is a moment just before the trigger is pulled when man has triumphed over nature, when he has fulfilled that ancient urge to embroil himself in conflict and to prevail. Without that struggle, man is a double edged sword hacking away at crabgrass.”
He felt her shudder against him, and his arm tightened around her. “But hunting is more than that, Maggie. A true sportsman never kills over the limit and always uses his game for food. He is also one of the greatest animal conservationists in the country.”
“No,” she protested against his coat. “It’s not true.”
“Yes. The money collected from hunting and fishing licenses is used to pay for conservation efforts and for the salaries of game wardens whose job it is to protect the animals.”
“They wouldn’t need protection if it weren’t for the hunters.”
“Do you know what would happen if there were no hunting?”
Her head snapped up. “Of course. The animals would live.”
“That’s simplistic, Maggie. They would over populate until their feeding grounds could no longer support them, and then they would die of starvation and disease.”
“That’s survival of the fittest, Adam. Nature’s way.”
“But without hunters and the laws we made to protect game animals, they would be slaughtered by the hundreds, like the buffalo, until there were no more left.”
What he said made sense, but she couldn’t adjust emotionally to the killing. “Didn’t you see his graceful neck and the shiny smoothness of his coat? Hunting is not just the snuffing out of life: it’s the destruction of beauty.”
“I saw, Maggie.” His voice was quiet. “And I appreciate that beauty.” He cupped her cheeks with his hands and looked into her face. They hardly breathed as they looked at each other. The air sizzled with undercurrents. Doubts and uncertainties swirled between them and disappeared, submerged by the powerful current of sexual awareness that left them breathless.
“You have a choice, Maggie.” His deep voice was the only sound in the silent forest.
A cold hand clutched at her heart. She wasn’t ready to choose. How could she ever choose between this man she adored and the animals she loved? She swallowed a lump in her throat and looked at Adam with wide green eyes. “What?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Suddenly, he grinned. Maggie could feel the sunshine of his smile lighting up the entire Tallahatchie River bottom. “Kiss me and create a little body heat or stand there and freeze.”
She reached her arms around his broad shoulders and lifted her mouth to his. As their lips met and the familiar fire spread through her, turning her bones to hot maple syrup, Maggie was fleetingly aware of her cause fading to a mere shadow in the corners of her mind.
“I wonder what it would be like to make love in the snow?” Adam murmured as he devoured her lips.
“Don’t... you... dare,” she said between kisses. “We’d ... freeze.”
A heavy pine bough above them drooped and deposited its load of snow on Maggie’s head. “Brr! That’s cold.” She broke the kiss and shook her head, sending snow flying.
Adam laughed. “You look like a cocker spaniel.”
“Oh, I do, do I?” Devilment danced in Maggie’s eyes as she bent down and carefully lobbed a fistful of snow into Adam’s face. “Let’s see how you look.”
The fight was on. Like two high-spirited children, they scooped up the snow, packed it into balls, and sailed them through the air at each other. Maggie proved to have the most lethal aim, and Adam found himself dodging more than he threw.
“Truce, Maggie!” he yelled as one of her well- aimed snowballs found its mark on his nose.
“You say that just because you’re losing.” Gleefully she lobbed two at once, which found their mark on his broad chest.
“Maggie!” Adam roared as he charged. He came bounding across the snow toward her like an avenging bear.
Her feet flew across the snow as she ran lithely before him. She felt carefree and giddy and wonderfully alive. Ducking behind a Cottonwood tree she waited, breathless, for Adam to find her. Her cold, wet hand clutched her throat, and her green eyes sparkled as she leaned against the tree trunk.
The seconds ticked by, and there was no sound in the forest except her own ragged breathing. The seconds stretched out, and anticipation quivered in Maggie as if a phantom hand had plucked the bowstrings of her heart.
Cautiously she stuck her head around the tree trunk. “Adam?”
Splat! “Got you!” he yelled as the snowball caught her squarely in the face.
“Oh, you...”She wiped the cold, powdery flakes from her face with both hands.
“You what?” Adam’s arms encircled her waist as he pulled her down into the snow.
“Sneaky,” she sputtered as she lay atop him.
He caught her face between his hands and brought it close, so that their noses touched. With careful precision, his tongue outlined her icy lips, licking away the moist snow.
“Hmm, good. And what else?”
“Underhanded,” she murmured against his chilled skin as she peppered small kisses all over his face.
“How about hungry?” He rolled her over, so that her golden hair was spread out upon the snow. One of his legs was thrown across her hips, molding her to him so that even through their thick clothes she could feel his desire.
“How can you be hungry? We just ate.” Her warm breath fanned against his cheek as her fingers lovingly traced his jaw.
“For you.” His mouth descended swiftly, and he very thoroughly communicated just how hungry he was. Snowball fights and wild animals and forty-four magnum guns and bright silver trumpets melted and dissolved into a puddle of nothingness before the fierce onslaught of his lips.
The cold snow and the damp frozen ground could have been softest eiderdown for all Maggie knew as she clung to Adam, mindlessly answering his kiss. They rolled together, legs entangled, as they sought relief from the fire that enveloped them.
Maggie was only dimly aware of being scooped into his arms and carried to the cabin. His footsteps were muffled by the snow, and his progress was hampered as he stopped at intervals to press h
is lips to hers.
Her fingers were already working on the buttons of his shirt when Adam kicked the cabin door shut behind them. Clothing made an untidy trail across the floor as they made their heady progress toward the fire. The shaggy fingers of the rug caressed Maggie’s bare back as she welcomed Adam into her soft, secret warmth.
“I love you, Maggie.” he whispered hoarsely into her ear, and then the world was blotted out.
o0o
Much later, she lay sprawled across Adam’s chest like a contented cat as her fingers idly played in the crisp dark hair on his chest.
“Do you know what I think?” she asked dreamily.
“Hmm?” Adam was content to lie on the rug with Maggie in his arms and the fire warming his backside.
Maggie looked at their strewn, snow-soaked clothes, and her lips curved into a satisfied smile. “I think if we continue this cavorting, we’ll not have a single thread left to wear.”
“Is that what you call this? Cavorting?”
“Umm... awe-inspiring sex.”
“I call it love.” His vivid blue eyes bored into hers, belying the lightness of his voice.
Maggie turned her face to the fire to avoid his eyes. She couldn’t say the words. If she said, “I love you, Adam,” she was committed and there would be no turning back. The blaze leaped and crackled in the fireplace, and sparks shot out from the fire, falling harmlessly on the brick apron and changing to black, dying embers. That was what she would be without Adam, she thought, a lifeless lump. A dead ember. Maggie sighed and wished they could stay trapped forever in the woods, shut off from the world, wrapped in the soft cocoon of their love.
“Do you know what this occasion calls for?” Adam stood and swatted Maggie lightly on her naked hip. Ever aware of her moods, he sought to dispel the sadness he felt creeping over her. He seemed instinctively to know when she felt the heavy weight of their differences descend between them. “Taffy.”
“Taffy?” She looked up in amazement. “What’s the occasion? And whatever brought taffy to your mind?” She stood up and slipped her arms into the flannel shirt.
“The occasion is us together in the snow, and cooking a batch of taffy is the way my grandmother celebrates big events.”
She watched the way his slim hips moved in the tight-fitting jeans as he walked, shirtless, across to the kitchen. With all the efficiency of a man who knows what he is doing, Adam began to rattle pots and pans.
She followed, her bare feet whispering on the wooden floor, and leaned against the cabinet. “Don’t tell me you know how to make taffy.”
“I won’t tell you. I’ll show you.” Adam whistled as he measured sugar and corn syrup and butter into a large aluminum-lined copper pot.
“I suppose you learned that at cooking school.”
“Nope.” He took a wooden spoon and stirred the sugary mixture. “Grandmother Trent taught me. She is quite a lady. When I was a child, I spent every Saturday night at her house. ‘Now, Adam,’ she’d say, ‘since I don’t have any granddaughters and Heaven knows! It doesn’t look like Paul and Martha are going to give me any, I’m going to teach you how to make taffy.’ And then she’d set me on a tall kitchen stool and let me stir.”
Maggie listened with fascination. Adam Trent had a grandmother. How wonderful! She loved families. All she’d had were Dad and Jim. She wanted her children to know the love of aunts and uncles and grandpas and great-grandmothers. Adam had a grandmother! She beamed at him.
“You said ‘is.’ That means she’s still living?” She leaned forward, her eyes shining and her honey- and-wheat hair tumbling across her shoulders.
“Yes. On Highland Circle, in Tupelo. She lives with two cats—the parents of Beauregard—a sassy myna bird, and a bossy housekeeper named Elijah Jane.”
“Elijah?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die. She said her pappy swore to name his first child after his favorite Biblical character and she had the good fortune to be born first.” The taffy bubbled in the pan as they talked, permeating the cabin with a sweet, buttery smell.
“The good fortune?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to meet them.” Maggie clapped her hands in glee, forgetting her stubborn refusal to acknowledge a future for them. “I’ve always dreamed of having lots of kids and going to family reunions with great grandmas and doting aunts and adoring uncles and lots of pets and Elijah Janes.”
“That’s what our children will have, Maggie.”
Our children? Our children! Maggie clapped her hands over her mouth. What had she said? “Oh, I didn’t mean... I just meant...” Her thoughts ran squirrel-like around the cage of her mind, trying to find an escape. There was none. “How’s the taffy coming?” she asked faintly.
Very carefully Adam took the pot off the stove, trying hard to keep a straight face. An occasional twitch at the corners of his mouth betrayed his mirth. “About ready for pulling.”
It was quiet in the cabin except for the splat of wooden spoon against cooling taffy. Maggie watched the muscles ripple in Adam’s smooth back as he beat the mouth-watering mixture. Our children, our children, her heart sang, while doubt reared its ugly head in the dark corners of her mind. Oh, how could she ever leave Adam? Anguish settled in her heart.
“Maggie?”
More than anything in the world she wanted to have his children. She wanted to go to sleep at night and wake up in the morning in his arms. Everything would have been perfect—except for the animals.
“Maggie?”
She snapped to attention. Adam was smiling at her across a smooth, cream-colored mass of candy. “Grab that end and pull.”
Gingerly she took a sticky mass in her hands. “Now what?”
“Pull, Maggie. It won’t bite.” Adam laughed at the way she stepped cautiously backward, holding the taffy stiffly in front of her. “Haven’t you ever made taffy?”
“No. There was only Dad, Jim, and me. I had one grandparent living when I was born—Papa Merriweather—but he died while I was still too young to remember much about him. I missed all the family activities most kids have.”
“So you filled your life with animals?”
“Yes.” She gave the taffy a sharp pull. No wonder Adam was the youngest bank president Mutual had ever had. He understood people. “Why are we doing this, Adam?” She gave the string of sticky taffy a jiggle.
“So it will be smooth and chewy. Wait and see.” Adam walked toward Maggie, doubling back the long string of candy so they could start afresh with the pulling. His hands covered hers as he put the ends of the taffy together. “Making taffy with my grandmother was never like this!” He raised one eyebrow and leered at her cleavage, visible above the third button of her shirt.
He looked so adorable standing there, and he was so close it would be a shame not to hug him. Maggie’s arms wound around his neck.
“Maggie! The taffy!”
It was too late. The taffy was draped around his neck, hanging in sticky strings down his bare chest.
Maggie dissolved into laughter. The undersides of her arms were glued by taffy to Adam’s neck and the hairs on his chest. “Oh—” she gasped, taking great gulps of air to try and stop laughing, “I think we’re stuck.”
“Probably permanently.” he agreed amiably as he bent to taste her lips.
“Adam, the taffy!” Her lips were muffled against his.
“Yeah. There are things Grandmother Trent didn’t tell me about the taffy.” He lifted one of her arms and began to leisurely nibble away the bits of candy clinging there.
Maggie tasted a string of candy on the side of his neck. “You were right. This is smooth...” Her tongue made a hot little circle against his skin. “... and chewy.” She playfully nipped his neck.
“Marry me, Maggie.” He said it just like that, right in the middle of the taffy.
“What did you say?”
“I said, ‘Marry me, Maggie.’ “ He casually licked a sticky glob
of candy from one of her fingers.
Her heart thumped so loudly in her chest, she was sure it could be heard clear to Belden. There it was. The question she had been afraid he would ask and terrified that he wouldn’t. And she wasn’t ready to give him an answer. She wasn’t even sure there was an answer. “Be sensible, Adam.”
“Sensible?” The laughter rumbled deep in his chest as it heaved against her shirt. “The world’s all-time master of nonsense and deviltry wants me to be sensible? The tigress with the horn tells me to be sensible!”
“Well, somebody has to. You know I can’t marry you.”
“Why not?”
“You know why. Our differences would destroy us.”
“Love allows differences, Maggie. Marry me.”
“Our problem is more than just differences. It’s a volcano under us ready to erupt.”
“I’m partial to volcanoes.”
“And can you imagine me at a bankers’ meeting? The tigress with the horn?”
“I love tigresses.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And horns.” He kissed her eyelashes. “Marry me.”
“You’re out of your mind.” She tried to pull away from him and found herself bound by the taffy.
“Thank goodness for taffy.” Adam squeezed her close, nuzzling her hair with his lips. “Say yes, Maggie.”
“No, Adam.” Her heart thundered in her chest. “I can never marry you.”
“I’ll make you change your mind.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Maggie was wide awake. She had no idea what time it was. One pale moonbeam penetrated the blackness of the room, and outside, a screech owl was sending its eerie call through the night.
In spite of the warmth of the covers, Maggie shivered. A crushing sense of loss pressed against her heart, and she felt desolate. Carefully she lifted Adam’s arm from her chest and climbed out of bed. The chill air of the cabin struck her naked body, and she reached for the flannel shirt on the chair beside the bed.
Her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, and, as she buttoned the shirt, she looked at the form on the bed. Adam was sleeping on his back, with one arm flung across her side of the bed and the covers pushed down from his chest. His left leg was sticking out from under the quilt, and his dark hair was tousled across his forehead. In sleep his face looked boyish and relaxed and completely vulnerable.
