Gabriel's Gift

by London, Cait

  Gabriel blinked, the thought pinning him very still, wrapping around him. He was the hunted. She made the rules. “This is very unwise,” he said to the airy barn and didn’t like the uneven sound of his voice.

  Eight

  When Miranda’s turn comes to court a man, she won’t be wanting the easiest of the pack. She’ll want one with all the little edges to explore and tame. Despite her orderly and ladylike appearance, she can be quite the hunter and needs a match to her game.

  Anna Bennett’s Journal

  “Stop scowling,” Miranda murmured easily. She glanced at Gabriel, seated next to her in her new red pickup. “You look like you’re being hauled into Doomsday.”

  Gabriel sat with his arms crossed. The pickup was small; his knees bent sharply to accommodate the length of his legs. It was better than revealing his fear of Miranda’s driving by holding on to the dashboard. The next bump on the road leading from his house took his head against the roof and jarred his knees lightly against the dashboard. He refused to rub the slight injury. “I could have driven down the hill to your mother’s house.”

  He hadn’t liked waiting for her to drive to collect him—“collect him,” as if he were a helpless…The reversal of roles called for by Freedom Valley’s courting system chafed him once again. In waiting for Miranda, he had changed clothes several times and nothing seemed right. He was a hunter, bred to stalk his prey, collecting it, and now as a potential groom candidate, he was very vulnerable and uncertain. No matter what his feelings were, how contrary being placed on an inspection block, he wouldn’t let Miranda down. At the last minute, he’d made a silly trip down the mountain, hurrying to purchase new jeans and a light blue dress shirt. He’d shined his best boots and belt and buckle. Miranda’s party was important to her, and Gabriel sensed that amid Miranda’s family and friends, he would be inspected as a suitable match for her. He wasn’t.

  By using the old system of messages by homing pigeons, he thought darkly, he was safe, not aroused by the tone of her husky voice. Why then had he ordered a new telephone line? This uncertain fragile-male business did not sit well with Gabriel Deerhorn.

  Gabriel inhaled and braced for the next rut, which she hit as surely as if she’d been aiming for it. She glanced at him. “Stop shaking your head. You’ll live.”

  “I’ve got magazine photographers coming up tomorrow. They’re staying for a week and I’m guiding them in the high country. A concussion would make that difficult.” He resented his bad mood and grumping. His life was no longer smooth and comfortable. The next bump jarred her breasts, which quivered beneath a soft green material concealed by her long coat. Her scent wafted to him, erotic, enticing….

  She patted his knee. “I’ll be careful with you, baby. I’ll get you home in plenty of time to rest up. About that guide trip. I don’t suppose you’d invite me along?”

  “It’s all men.” Baby. She was teasing him, and Gabriel refused to take the bait.

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  He felt like a stag protecting his harem of one precious woman from intruders. How could he explain that logically, even to himself? “We’re camping…. Bathroom facilities,” he muttered and his mind swung to another danger—Freedom Valley’s Bachelor Club. “Has Brody come around? Koby? Fletcher?”

  “Uh-huh, all of them. They’re going to be at my party tonight. I think Mom would have liked all of us together in her house. I enjoyed the preparations—good food, Mom’s punch recipe, baking bread and cakes…And I’m not buying that ‘bathroom facilities’ logic.”

  Gabriel settled into his dark thoughts of the potential poachers surrounding his woman. “But your hope chest is still at my house,” he said, carefully reaffirming his temporary rights to Miranda.

  “Yes, it is.” She glanced at him. “You look very nice, Gabriel.”

  “Thank you.” The words were tightly begrudged and dark and unlike him.

  Anna’s house was already lit up, cars and trucks parked carefully so as not to disturb her yard. Gabriel braced himself as he followed Miranda into the house, filled with laughter and chatter and good friends. At the back door, she replaced her serviceable winter boots with his beaded moccasins, and a bit of his uncertainty dissolved. Gabriel tried to shake off his image as a territorial male, and failed the first time Miranda stood on tiptoe to hug and kiss each of her guests—which included all of Freedom Valley’s known women-hunting bachelors.

  With large gold hoop earrings and a matching emerald tunic and flowing slacks, she moved easily through the role of hostess. Little remained of the pale, hurt woman who had first come to his home. She didn’t need him now, he thought whimsically. Miranda had always been very capable, very organized, and now amid her friends and family, she laughed easily. Her green eyes danced with a tidbit Tanner had remembered of their childhood, a time when Miranda and Kylie had surprised him and his friends while they were skinny-dipping.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Gabriel ordered lightly to Dakota Jones, who was woman-chasing for a mother for those children he wanted.

  “You’re going to have to step out more often, old man,” Dakota returned easily with a grin. “Miranda likes this—family and friends around her. Look at how she glows. She’s all lit up and you sure as hell can’t be the reason. You haven’t said much all night, and everyone knows you prefer your mountains to a crowd like this.”

  Koby Austin, who had lost a wife and son to childbirth, sipped Anna’s aged blackberry wine and studied Miranda, then Gabriel. “Too bad about her baby—your baby.”

  Dylan Spotted Horse nodded. “A real shame. If I’d been the one she wanted, I wouldn’t have kept it a secret, visiting her away from Freedom Valley.”

  Brody Thor, who had married at seventeen and had raised his daughters alone after his wife deserted them, nudged Gabriel with his shoulder. “I have a hard time believing that story, because I know you. If that baby were yours, she would have been wearing your ring. You’re an old-fashioned man, Gabriel. You’d have lassoed her into marriage right away.”

  Gabriel closed into himself, shielding his thoughts. Apparently his friends knew about the lie told to protect Miranda. In all possibility, any one of them would have done the same. He tried to concentrate on Dakota’s sister, Karolina, as she asked him questions about the old outlaw’s grave, reputed to be in the high country he roamed. But he worried about Miranda, the way she placed her hand on Gwyneth’s round body, feeling the child nestled within. The delight in Miranda’s expression said that her own trial had slid somewhat into the past. She laughed outright as she placed her other hand on Kylie’s as yet flat stomach.

  Gabriel’s heart stopped as she turned, green eyes sparkling. She found him in the crowded room and the rising flush on her cheeks told him that she recognized him as her lover. The moment danced between them, softly, sweetly, laced with a mixture of sensuality and tenderness and memories of a wildflower bouquet between them and that first heavenly, sweet kiss. She moved toward him, and he went dizzy just looking at her. The conversation became a buzz, the people he’d known for a lifetime fading into the background. Then Miranda stood in front of him, her expression one of pleasure.

  There was little he could do but lower his lips to her soft ones.

  Five days later, Gabriel ignored the men grousing about the freezing mid-March wind on a high, rocky mountain peak—perfect for photographs of the bighorn sheep nearby. He settled into the warmth of Miranda’s lovemaking, the taste of blackberry wine and happiness on her lips, and knew that he was no longer complete without her. His mind told him that she would soon leave, taking his heart with her. He braced himself for the lonely life ahead and for a time gave himself to the cleansing wind and the stars above, allowing his soul to flow to hers, twining together like the campfire smoke. He felt her in his body, pulsing, the warmth of her embracing him, those grass-green eyes drowsy in the aftermath of lovemaking. His hand curled within his heavy glove, sensitive to a softer texture, her fle
sh cruising along his body, drifting in his mind.

  He’d invited her into his home after her party and once inside, he’d tugged her to him, hungry for her, the fire raging between them instantly. That primitive need to claim her could not be restrained.

  His body sprung to her touch too easily, leaving him little resistance. Each time she came to him, she left him less complete than before.

  She would leave soon enough, that brilliant mind needing challenges Freedom Valley could not offer….

  Gabriel opened his eyes to the night, the men huddling around the campfire, cleaning their expensive camera gear. She belonged to their world, business-savvy, smart, brain crunching numbers, logic layering every thought. What did he have to offer Miranda?

  With his teeth, Gabriel tore away a chunk of dried deer jerky and chewed it without tasting. He’d been right the first time—to set her free, and after a long week away from the sensual needs of their bodies, Miranda’s laser-sharp mind would be defining reality. She would define her life apart from his, recognize the folly of any relationship between them.

  Gabriel scanned the night, listened to the wind in the trees and the animals that were a part of him. She could never be a part of his world, and his spirit, the strength of his essence, could never live in hers….

  The savage, deep bloodred pulsing fever her scent could cause in him, or even one look from those dark green eyes—the need to mate with her, to give her his child, made him uneasy. Now it lurked inside him, humming when he would have peace.

  Fletcher was restless, pacing the camp with raised hackles, a sign of a dangerous animal nearby. A man lit a cigarette, killing it when Gabriel stared coolly at him. The “man” smell, carried by the wind, would drive away any animals.

  Or attract the big cat stalking them.

  The next afternoon, Gabriel’s binoculars pinned the bright red jacket, the slight figure of Miranda, bent against the forceful wind. On a rocky ledge above her, the cougar was sunning and watching her. Suddenly the cat was on his feet, his body crouched to stalk.

  Gabriel quickly told the men to stay put, to watch for the cougar, and that he would return. At a run, with Fletcher at his side and his rifle slung to his back, Gabriel plunged into the thick pines, fear icing his blood, pushing him to his limits. Miranda…

  Terrorized that he would cause the cougar to react, harming Miranda, Gabriel closed the distance, motioning for Fletcher to be silent. They hunted together now, man and dog, trained to notice and interpret the slightest movement of the other.

  In the clearing, Miranda stood poised, a rifle to her shoulder. Wind whipped at her blue-black gleaming hair, released from the coat’s hood. On a rocky ledge above her, the cougar was poised to leap. Gabriel forced himself not to yell, and moved silently closer. He could miss the long shot, only wounding the cougar and Miranda would be in more danger. To distract the cougar, focused now on Miranda, was safer. He heard the noises of the approaching men behind him and damned them for the complication that could cost Miranda’s life. Without distracting Miranda, Gabriel inched closer, and motioned for Fletcher to circle the cougar.

  “Miranda,” Gabriel said quietly and moved forward, rifle in hand, placing himself between her and the snarling, crouched cougar.

  Her voice was an uneven thread, caught on the wind. “Gabriel. Don’t—”

  Everything happened at once: Fletcher barked, startling the cougar. It leaped on Gabriel, who was closer, and Miranda fired. Torn from him by the feline’s impact, his rifle was useless. Battling the wiry, strong mountain lion, Gabriel protected his throat and the slash of claws burned his thigh.

  He rolled with the cougar and heard a second shot; pain stabbed into his left buttock and the cougar slumped upon him.

  Pinned beneath the wildcat and stunned, his thigh burning, Gabriel distantly heard the sound of clicking cameras, saw their glass eyes focus at him as Fletcher barked excitedly in the distance. Heart pounding, Gabriel pushed off the limp beast, struggled to his feet and caught Miranda, who flew into his arms. He tugged back her hair, read the stark fear in her face, the tears streaming down her cheeks. She was safe.

  He dived into her kiss, locked onto it and forgot everything but the joy in knowing she was alive and unharmed. She tore herself from him, then bent to see his leg, the torn cloth soaked with blood. “We’ve got to get him to medical help. I need a tourniquet…. Now!”

  Gabriel’s icy fear still held him. He didn’t know if it was Miranda shaking, or his heart, trying to leap free of his body. He wrapped a fist in her collar and tugged her upright in front of him. His fear shifted into anger. “You could have been killed. What are you doing up here?”

  She dashed away her tears with her glove, her eyes fierce and green and lashing at him. “Tracking that cat. His prints are all over your yard. Then I saw them heading in the same direction as your regular trail—it was muddy and the prints were clear—and I couldn’t bear to have him hurt your less than affectionate hide. You had no business placing yourself between him and me. If you had only stayed out of this, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Now see what you’ve done.”

  Now see what you’ve done…. The words seemed to echo in the distance and Gabriel shook his head to clear the weak, drowsy feeling. Perhaps it was his reaction to the shock of seeing Miranda facing the cat. Perhaps it was the toll of fear—

  “I’m sorry I shot you in the butt with that tranquilizer, dear heart,” Miranda was saying somewhere near him as his head went floating off into the wind and his body sagged heavily into the men’s arms. She bent low to him and tugged the stinging dart from his backside. “I was aiming for the cougar. We’d better get out of here, guys, before that cat comes awake. It’s a pretty light dose, that’s why I thought a second one might be okay. Please be careful with Gabriel.”

  “We’ve been with this guy for five days and four nights, lady. He’s made out of leather,” one of the photographers said in the distance. Gabriel tried to make his mouth move, but his lips were thick and useless, his tongue not obeying his command.

  “Shush. He could hear you. You’ll hurt his feelings. He’s very sensitive about some things. Come on, let’s move. We’ll use my sleeping bag to fashion a stretcher for him,” Miranda crooned from another galaxy. Her voice came harder then, more determined as Gabriel struggled against the heavy weight in his brain and body. “An emergency medical kit? Great. Whiskey? Great, the alcohol will disinfect the wound. Make that stretcher—cut holes in the bottom of the bag and put those two branches through the bag. Give me a knife, someone. I’ll disinfect and wrap this.”

  Cold liquid poured over his leg and pain seared through him, bringing Gabriel close to the surface, and he struggled to defend his pride and honor. “I am not ‘less than affectionate.”’

  The men’s laughter angered him, but there was little he could do as he drifted off again. He was barely aware of the trek down the mountain, and then Dr. Thomas White, a frequent visitor to Freedom Valley, was bending over him. Dressed in slacks and a matching vest, Thomas’s immaculate dress shirt was folded back at the cuffs. “I was just passing through on the road to Freedom when the call came in from Ella, the sheriff. Seems like one of your photographer guests has more sense than you do and packs a mobile telephone. I was here when they packed you in like a big game trophy. Seems like you had a nice sleep down the mountain, except for rousing enough to spout some pretty romantic stuff—something about the grass-green of her eyes, the petals of her lips—”

  When Thomas caught Gabriel’s scowl, he paused, grinned and then continued. “She’s done a fine job, keeping you off that leg. The wound isn’t bad and you’ve got a few minor scratches. You lost some blood and the exertion as you fought with the cougar—when combined with the tranquilizer—caused you to go night-night pretty quickly. Offhand, I’d say you’d been missing some sleep—probably working on those neat little romantic phrases, like ‘the sunlight of my heart’ and ‘wild rose beauty.’ You’ve got a few stitches and probabl
y a scar or two—good bragging material for those children you’ll probably have one day.”

  “He’s angry and pouting,” Miranda said quietly. “He didn’t want me to help him.”

  Thomas chuckled. “He’s the old-fashioned type. He’s brooding because you’ve stolen his thunder. He wanted to protect you and I would say that he did his job. That cat could have hurt you badly before falling asleep. Gabriel had the strength to hold it off, until the tranquilizer did its job.”

  Lying in his bed, Gabriel ignored Thomas, and found Miranda in the shadows. He had stoically managed to let her sponge his face and neck, because the unique sensation of her fretting over him, tending him with such care, was too enticing to resist. His adamant protest had died the moment she placed her hand on his forehead. “You endangered yourself. You could have been killed.”

  “Mr. Deerhorn thinks he’s the only person who can lend a helping hand. He resents his current position of being the person who needs help. I chose to go up that mountain. I was safe enough until you entered the ball game. I read the directions for the tranquilizers that you keep on hand. I am sorry to have shot you, though.”

  “She’s a highly intelligent woman, who can make do under the worst of circumstances. She stayed behind to tranquilize the cougar again when it started to come to—giving the men more time to get you to safety…. If you hadn’t been wrestling with that cougar, she wouldn’t have shot you in the butt, old man,” Thomas murmured, his narrow, aristocratic face alight with pleasure.

  The men’s voices outside Gabriel’s bedroom echoed in what seemed to be a toast. “Here’s to Old Shot in the Butt!”

  “I know where she hit me,” Gabriel returned too sharply and resented his frustration as he slid once more into sleep.

  When he awoke, it was to the sound of his tractor revving up the morning. The smell of coffee filled the house, his leg throbbed, and after his sponge bath, the bandage didn’t fit well inside his jeans. Managing to dress in jeans and a flannel shirt, Gabriel limped to the kitchen and resented his weakness. Morning sunlight slashed through the windows as he poured the coffee, sipping it. At least the men were gone now, their taunting cheer still hovering in the silence of his home.