Wild Passion

by Dawn Luedecke

  “Or get the train to start running loads.” Garrett’s forehead wrinkled, and Simon knew his concern was deep. His new brother-in-law, and friend, had put everything he owned into this venture. His future as partner in the railroad logging rested on the new system doubling what they brought down the mountain. If he couldn’t get shipments going, he’d lose his contract and new business, which would leave Beth with less security in her life. Simon couldn’t afford to worry about his married sister’s future when he barely kept control over his own.

  “I’ll go talk to Aunt June and get the men ready to head out in two days.” Wall rushed past, leaving Garrett and Simon alone.

  “Don’t let my sister go,” Simon said.

  Garrett held his hands out in surrender. “I agree. The rivers are way too dangerous this year. The only safe place would be in Aunt June’s wannigan, but it’s still down at the mill. Aunt June’s going to have to make do with a bateau to carry the cooking supplies and food.”

  Simon locked his hands together to keep from revealing too much of his emotions with gesture. “Could you also keep an eye on Carrie? Especially around Thomas. I don’t trust him, and he seems a little too eager to court her. Desperate even.”

  Garrett chuckled under his breath. “Beth mentioned something about him earlier at the wagon. I’ll have her stay by Carrie’s side the whole time you’re gone. Wouldn’t want something to happen to your woman.”

  “Thanks. And she’s not my woman.”

  “Of course. Why worry about someone you don’t care for?” Garrett studied his palms and gave a smile that irritated the heck out of Simon. Not that what his friend said wasn’t true, but it meant too many people knew about his newfound infatuation. He hated people poking sticks at his personal business.

  “I’m simply concerned for my sister’s friend is all.” Simon clenched his teeth until his jaw ached, hoping Garrett would take the hint and change the subject.

  “Right.” Garrett nodded, and started toward the Railroad Grove. He motioned for Simon to follow as he continued. “At least it will help keep Beth occupied while I get this train fixed. I know you must realize this already, but your sister is one hell of a bullheaded woman. She wants to help, and no one’s going to tell her she can’t.”

  “Carrie is a bit more manageable than my sister. She gets into trouble, but most of the time she sees her wrongdoing and will respond as a woman should.”

  “Are you certain there’s not something between the two of you?” Garrett gave him a sideways glance. “I mean besides the fact that she is your sister’s bosom friend.”

  “No.” Simon knew Garrett would ask the question eventually. They spent a great deal of time together, and she had risked her future to bring him up here. And for what? So he could discover what he’d known back in town? That he was no longer built to be a logger. No longer had the passion he once did for the job and the mountain. He knew the question about he and Carrie burned in everyone’s mind, but he still didn’t know how to respond.

  Carrie was a dream. A waif a man like him could never fully catch. A distraction to keep him occupied while on the mountain, but once they returned home she would disappear like all ghosts were supposed to do. Unless, of course, she chose to stay behind and haunt him for the remainder of his lonely years. In which case he would have to marry her once she was senile enough to see past his scars. Despite her claims otherwise, he’d seen her cringe a time or two when she’d nursed him back to health. She’d noticed. What woman wouldn’t?

  There were more than his looks. She was pure and good, where he’d lived his life searching for those few moments of happiness in the arms of any woman willing to crawl into bed with him. On more than one occasion he’d regretted his actions, but he had a name to keep for himself. Scoundrel. A flannel-mouthed mudsill to the lonely women of Missoula. What woman didn’t love a good chase? And everyone knew a predator always got his prey.

  But Carrie wasn’t prey. At least not in the visceral sense. Seducing her was the only thing he found up here on the mountain that gave him happiness. The moment he’d seen her chasing that damned chicken he knew he needed her. The choice he made then and there to make her his, at least in the carnal way, eased the ache in his chest. As if someone had lifted an entire pine tree off his ribs. The decision brought him to a level of life where he could function once again. Well, mostly. When at the Grove he hated life, and all he could think about was the next time he could be with her. What she felt like beneath his palms. Even the thought of watching her tiny hands serve the loggers food calmed him enough to bring a smile to his face. People thought her balled-up plan had worked, but the only thing keeping his soul at ease was Carrie.

  He felt like a scallywag, but he needed to have her—body and soul—maybe not for the rest of her life, but at least for now. She was the only way to get through this season. What was he going to do once he didn’t see her face for the next few weeks? Wallow in self-pity and bourbon?

  Simon patted the pocket of his jacket where the flask full of whiskey lay tucked away. He’d bought it in case a moment ever arose where he needed a huge swig, but he didn’t intend to drink it otherwise. He always refrained from drinking when at camp, and this year was no different. He needed to get back to a place where a level head and hard day’s work weren’t simply visions of a past life but who he was as a man. He wanted to find his way back. If not for himself, then for Carrie and those he loved.

  * * * *

  Carrie arranged a few pans in the wooden crate that would carry what little supplies Aunt June would take with her in the small boat, while Nots played at her feet and chewed on the hem of her dress. Unlike last year, when they had had a whole kitchen in their raft, this year Aunt June would have to make do with the bare minimum supplies needed to feed the men.

  “I need you to go get me a bushel full of huckleberries for the drive.” Aunt June tightened the lid down on a canister of flower and placed it in the box of food. “If I can’t give those boys big hearty meals for the next few weeks, at least I can give them something that tastes good.”

  Carrie tipped half her mouth up in a smile to the older woman, but inside her stomach hollowed even more. Aunt June was leaving and Carrie would be the sole cook for dozens of men. This would be the biggest test of her womanly skills. She was destined to either drown or swim in this river she’d chosen to take in her life. Too bad she hadn’t purchased the three-piece bathing costume she’d found at the Missoula Mercantile last summer. She was destined to at least float through the next couple of weeks. “I’ll get the basket and go.”

  “Nope.” Aunt June dusted the loose flour off her hands and adjusted the crate. “I’ve done picked all the berries in our patch. You’re going to have to go higher up the mountain. I’ll go get a man to take you up past the Grove. Mind you don’t go getting yourself ruined. Your mother swore to lock you in the attic if I returned you a soiled dove, and your father threatened to pass you off to the first man to show interest.”

  “I’ve no intention of ruining anything about me. I’ll get the basket ready.” Carrie smiled, but her stomach flipped. The last time she’d been up past the Grove was when she’d gotten lost. The memory still fresh and frightening in her mind, she swallowed back the lump forming in her throat. At least Aunt June was kind enough to send her with an escort, and she had one guess as to who the older woman wanted to fetch.

  “Better hurry.” Aunt June studied the sky. “Looks like the clouds can’t decide whether they want to storm or not. If you’re not back before the storm, I will send a search party. I swear it.”

  At that, Aunt June pivoted and headed out of camp, leaving Carrie to gather her supplies. A few minutes later her fears were confirmed as Simon sauntered into camp. Nots bounded toward him with tail wagging. As soon as the pup reached his feet, he scooped the little scamp up and stopped before Carrie, plucking the basket from her hands as Nots sniffed the
wicker handle. “Aunt June says you’re too scared and vulnerable to go berry picking alone. You need a guide. Of course, I volunteered.”

  “I’ve also heard her say you were a prize of a man. She’s senile.”

  The blasted man chuckled and led the way up the hill while carrying Nots in one hand and a dainty basket in his other. “Senile or not, she’s usually right. And if she’s not, then we pretend she is so she keeps feeding us.”

  “Where’d she go?” Carrie asked, peering over her shoulder to the spot where Simon had appeared alone. “I thought she was going to return with you.”

  “Ran over to talk to Blue and the boys. I think she’s putting them to work to get her set up for the drive.”

  “Oh,” she answered, and hiked silently as she enjoyed the quiet serenity of the mountain and physical strain on her legs.

  Carrie let the time tick by in happy quiet until after they passed by the graveyard of widowmakers that marked last year’s Grove. “I’m a little nervous about this whole situation.”

  “Why? Because you don’t trust me to be alone with you?” Simon teased, and juggled Nots as she wiggled in his arms. “Well, you shouldn’t.”

  “No, you blowhard.” More to herself, she said, “Bully me to try to talk my feelings out with a logger.”

  “I’m not any logger. I’m the man you can’t stop thinking about.”

  “You certainly are a confident one.” She leapt over a large tree root jutting out of the damp earth. She looked up. Her stomach rolled when she realized they had walked past the spot where she’d strayed from the path weeks ago. She moved closer to Simon’s side, as if his mere presence could change what had happened in the past.

  “Fact is, you do think about me.” Simon smiled down at her. Humor shone in his eyes. “Otherwise you would never have concocted this sideways plan to fix me, or snuggle up next to me whenever you feel threatened.”

  “I do no such thing,” she lied. “And for your information, Mr. Sanders, the plan was Aunt June’s. I simply went along with it.”

  “And took credit.” He sent her a dimpled grin. A smile that made her want to slap it off his face and caress the indentation on his cheek at the same time. He was infuriating.

  “I’ve done no such thing.”

  “You’ve let me believe all this time you cared enough to kidnap me.”

  “If you remember, no one coerced you into putting on the chloroform mask.” The air grew thinner, and Carrie struggled to climb over a particularly large boulder in the path. “You did that all on your own so you could escape into oblivion without a care to the rest of the world around you.”

  “You’re right. I should never have trusted you. I should have known you planned to drug me so you could have your way with me.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down, which made her want to growl.

  Instinct told her to snarl at him, but she was a lady and fought the urge. Although why she would care to act like a lady in front of Simon, she had no clue. It wasn’t like he acted like a gentleman—she gave a sideways glance to the dainty basket he’d toted up the mountain for her—well, most of the time.

  He could be chivalrous on occasion.

  She moved to the opposite side of him so she could see the evidence of his fight with the cougar. The jagged, but fading, wound across his face wasn’t as bad as he believed. To her the scar proved only one thing. Simon Sanders could take on a hungry predator and escape with his life. No man she knew had ever been able to claim such bravery. Such strength. Why couldn’t he see that and be proud of his courage? “You’re a frustrating man.”

  “Then we are at an impasse, because I enjoy finding every chance I can to tease you. It’s utterly delightful.” He said the last like a chattering, overzealous socialite.

  Carrie rolled her eyes, but a giggle fought to burst free from deep within her chest. She enjoyed the easy banter she shared with Simon when he wasn’t engrossed in his misery. Almost as if he were the same man he had been before the accident.

  He caught her stare and moved away from her, blocking the view of his scar.

  Almost.

  Her heart grew heavy as she crested the top of the mountain to reveal a large, flower-speckled field. The peaceful sight around them lightened her mood. In the center, a crude cabin commanded the attention of all who entered the meadow. Behind the small abode and field of trees beyond, the jagged peaks of the Mission mountain range sat high against the azure sky. Gray clouds floated by like filthy puffs of cotton on their way to whatever storm cloud in which they wished to collect. Aunt June was right. If they didn’t hurry they could be caught in a storm. Alone on the mountain with a reprobate like Simon. Her reputation would be ruined for certain.

  “The huckleberry patch is over behind the cabin.” Simon set down Nots, who scampered off to bound in the flowers. “If it hasn’t been picked off by the local animals.”

  “Like deer?” Carrie asked while keeping an eye on Nots. She giggled at the way her little dog’s head bobbed up every once in a while in the tall grass.

  She chanced a look at Simon, whose expression mimicked her own—one of contentment and happiness. He motioned toward the berry bushes. “And rodents and bears.”

  “Bears?” Her stomach flipped. Instinct told her to fetch Nots, and she took a step toward the grass where her pup played.

  He must have heard the concern in her voice, because he pressed his hand on her back reassuringly. “Don’t worry. You can usually smell them before you see them. And I have Garrett’s gun. You’re safe.”

  Her riotous body leaned toward his warmth, but not for fear of bears. She knew he’d protect her from any threat, and she’d yet to see a ferocious animal in this wild forest. Not that they didn’t exist.

  No.

  She sought the freedom she’d felt the other day when he’d held her against the tree and gave her the lesson in seduction she didn’t really want. Or did she? Would letting him bring her to a plane of happiness be so bad? She didn’t plan to marry. Why not feel the skilled touch of a man one time in her life? Or twice.

  Because you are a lady and made a promise to yourself and your parents, she mentally chided. Deeper inside her mind, Simon’s mischievous voice whispered, What mother doesn’t know can’t be held against you. The damned devil in her conscience always sounded like the man walking silently by her side as he watched her pup play in the grass.

  She needed to get these berries and down the mountain before the storm, and Simon, decided to keep her occupied otherwise.

  Chapter 12

  Why is she suddenly in a hurry?

  Simon placed a handful of huckleberries in the basket next to Carrie and moved to the edge of the bushes so he could watch her. She knelt on the damp ground with no care to her dress as she furiously plucked berries and tossed them toward the growing pile, almost missing the basket in her haste. As if she wanted to get away from him as soon as possible. Or was it that she feared being this high in the forest? Either way, she’d changed from the prim husband-hunter she’d been since coming of age. One who wouldn’t dare be seen with a dusty hem, let alone the stains she’d have mid-skirts upon standing.

  The lumber camp had a way of changing people. Most of the time for the better. With Carrie it gave her a freedom she reveled in. One that dusted her once pale, flawless skin with a pink tinge. Broke her tight, perfectly arranged hair into a mane hastily tied back with a ribbon, which allowed wispy blond tendrils to frame her face and take his breath away with her waif-like beauty.

  His stomach dropped at the thought of not having her there each morning to center him with nothing more than the sight of her cooking over a fire. He dreaded the drive. The last few years he’d been a timber beast. Not a riverman. Although he’d learned the trade over the years, he had never wanted to be a riverman.

  Carrie ducked her head underneath the bush and stretched her arms to get t
o a hidden berry. He clenched his hands against the desire to touch her, and his mouth grew moist at the memory of her sweet lips against his. She was a drug more powerful than the chloroform she’d given him. More powerful than the booze burning a hole in his pocket.

  Thunder boomed overhead and made her jump. He would have laughed if the sound hadn’t caught him off guard as well.

  “What was that?” She searched the skies as a raindrop hit the back of his hand.

  “Just a little rain.” In two steps he stood over her and helped her stand. He plucked the basket off the ground and handed it to her. “Go inside the cabin. I’ll fetch Nots.”

  Instead of doing as he bid, she studied the trail across the meadow. “Shouldn’t we go back to camp? I think we can make it before the rain gets too hard.”

  He shook his head as the rain began to drizzle, wetting her wisps against her forehead. “No time. We’ll have to wait it out.”

  He’d never seen her bite her nails before, but she did as she glanced between the cabin and trail. He raised his voice enough to let her see the urgency in his command. “Get into the cabin.”

  Lightning struck miles away, causing a thunderous boom to echo through the trees around them. Carrie ran toward the front of the small abode. Simon searched the field for the dog, but luckily didn’t have to search long. The scamp came bounding toward them, shivering as another flash of lightning filled the sky. He scooped up the pup and ran as rain poured out of the skies.

  Simon thanked the crying heavens above Carrie had the good sense to leave the door open for him as he rushed through. He kicked it closed and let the soaked dog down onto the dirt floor. In no time at all mud would take up every inch of the animal’s fur. Then who was going to carry him down the mountain?

  He would, of course. He might be unwilling to participate in social niceties in town, but he wasn’t going to make Carrie tote a mud ball down the trail. No matter how much he wanted to see her bask in the reality of life in a logging camp. It was quite enchanting to see her rough it in this world. Like a dirt-speckled sprite frolicking around in the forest.