Far Harbor

by JoAnn Ross

  “I wonder if Hannah’s speaking from personal experience.”

  “She’s a woman. My guess would be yes.”

  Dan didn’t comment, but instead picked up reading the story.

  “‘During the trip westward, the train passed through a number of small towns—some barely more than rough outposts—and in truth, there were times I feared that my destination may turn out to be equally rustic. But when I viewed the town, I was momentarily confused and wondered if the train had changed direction during the night and somehow ended up in New England.

  “‘The buildings on the main street—Harbor Street, I was later to learn—are of substantial red brick that gives the impression that this town will not soon blow away, like the eerie, sad ghost towns I’d seen throughout Colorado and eastern Oregon and Washington. If buildings could make a statement, these are saying that Coldwater Cove is here to stay.’”

  “She was right,” Savannah said, thinking of her lighthouse.

  “Absolutely. ‘Wooden sidewalks line Harbor Street, which, despite being dirt, is remarkably unrutted. Huge houses, suggesting prosperity, line the top of the cliff which overlooks the Cove.’ She’s talking about your grandmother’s house.”

  “I think so.” Savannah had never thought of her grandmother’s Victorian as a symbol of prosperity. To her it had always represented a haven.

  “‘A grassy green square is the centerpiece of the town, the new bright red brick tower rising like a beacon; the clock face on each of the compass points can be seen for miles.

  “‘Standing guard over all is the Far Harbor Lighthouse. Harlan’s lighthouse, I thought to myself as I viewed the glorious white structure gleaming like marble in the midday sun. My lighthouse.’”

  Dan smiled down at Savannah. “Your lighthouse now.”

  She smiled back. Their eyes met. And held.

  “Savannah…”

  He pulled her close and fastened his mouth on hers, the kiss so mindblinding that Savannah nearly dropped her glass.

  “If you keep that up,” she said after they’d come up for air, “you’re going to have wine all over your clothes.”

  “I was hoping, if I keep it up a bit longer, we’ll both end up naked and it won’t matter.” He skimmed a finger along her shoulder.

  “Think about it, Savannah.” The treacherous touch continued downward, causing a giddy pleasure to bloom beneath her hand-painted sweatshirt depicting a row of Coldwater Cove’s famous Victorians. “You spill your wine on me.” Needs she’d been fighting for weeks coiled inside her as his fingertip swirled around her nipple.

  “Then I’ll spill mine on you.” His stroking hand moved to her other breast, treating it to a torture every bit as sublime. Her head reeled. “Then I’ll lick it off.” Her body throbbed. “Every last drop.”

  “I knew I should have taken time for lunch.” Her complaint was wrenched on a husky, ragged moan she could barely recognize as her own voice. “One glass of wine and my head’s spinning.”

  “That’s a start.”

  His bold grin promised wicked delights. He put his glass on the pine coffee table with deliberate slowness, giving her time to back away, as she had on past nights. When she didn’t move, he took her glass from her nerveless fingers and placed it beside his.

  “Let’s see if we can make the rest of you spin.”

  Since he was already doing a pretty good job of that, Savannah didn’t, couldn’t, respond. But her eyes gave him her answer.

  Dan exhaled a deep breath. Then stood up, scooped her off the couch, and carried her across the room and up the stairs to the loft.

  17

  D an put her down beside the bed, then paused to light the fire he’d set in the stone fireplace before leaving for work.

  And then he was back, standing in front of her.

  “I want to do this right.” He brushed her hair back from her face, his touch as hot as his eyes. “Tell me what you want me to do to you…. With you.”

  “Anything.” Her breath was ragged. Savannah didn’t even attempt to control it. “Everything.”

  It was as if her words had opened a dam, releasing a torrent of passion too long denied. He dragged her down onto the bed. Savannah went willingly. Eagerly.

  Her sweatshirt was ripped over her head and sent flying across the room. Her jeans were dragged down her legs. Her own hands were no less urgent. She tore at his shirt; buttons scattered across the wood floor as she yanked it off him, exposing a rock-hard chest that gleamed like polished teak in the flickering light.

  He turned her in his arms, braceleted her wrists in one hand and held them over her head. Having invited this, having dreamed of it, hot erotic dreams that had her waking up unfulfilled amid tangled sheets, Savannah closed her eyes, hung on tightly and followed him into the flames.

  His mouth was everywhere, relentlessly nipping and licking and sucking. Savaging her. Thrilling her. His teeth scraped against first one taut nipple, then the other, creating tremors of delicious excitement to ripple beneath her hot skin. His tongue stroked a trail of sparks up the moist flesh of her inner thigh, drawing a primal sound from deep in her throat.

  Springs creaked. The fire hissed and crackled. The air grew as thick and steamy as the Olympic rain forest in summer.

  His fingers tangled in the downy curls between her thighs. When his warm breath ruffled them, Savannah went hot and cold at the same time, like a woman in the grip of a fever. He parted the swollen pink flesh.

  More physically needy that she’d ever been in her life, Savannah drew in a deep, shuddering breath and bent her leg.

  He lifted his head. “Open your eyes, Savannah.”

  She forced open lids that had turned unreasonably heavy and found herself looking up into eyes that gleamed like molten cobalt in the flickering glow. There was a warrior’s fierceness to his face that might have frightened her had she not already experienced his tenderness.

  He smiled and the warrior turned to rogue. “Beautiful.”

  Then he was kissing her hard and deep, the same way he’d kissed her mouth, but then he’d merely stolen her breath. Now he was stealing her sanity.

  Coherent thought disintegrated as his greedy tongue invaded the giving folds of her body, seeking intimate secrets while his teeth toyed with the ultrasensitive nub, creating a need so sharp Savannah feared she’d surely shatter.

  Her stomach grew taut, her thighs tensed, a flush spread over her breasts. A final flick of his tongue caused her body to explode in a violent, dizzying release.

  But still he wouldn’t stop.

  “I can’t,” she gasped as he began to drive her up again.

  “You can.” His clever, wicked touch was making her mad. “We can.”

  And they did. Again and again, until her body hummed from a thousand erratic pulses and his lips were wet with her orgasms.

  And still it wasn’t enough. Needing to touch him as he’d touched her, wanting to make him feel that same need that had escalated to a pleasure just this side of pain, Savannah pulled her hands free.

  They fretted over him. Her ragged fingernails dug into his skin. It was hot and slick and moist.

  “I want you.” She returned her mouth to his. “All of you.” She tasted herself on his lips. Desire flared. Hotter, higher. “Inside of me.”

  “Thank God.” His voice was rough and tortured. He cursed beneath his breath as he drew away long enough to yank open the drawer of the bedside table and retrieve a condom. “Remind me to plan this better next time.”

  Then he was kneeling between her thighs. With his gaze on hers, he lifted her hips and slid smoothly, gloriously into her.

  Breathing a shimmering sigh of pleasure, Savannah wrapped her legs tighter around his hips and began to move with him, instinctively knowing his rhythm as if they’d made love a hundred, a thousand times before.

  She would not have thought it possible, but soon, amazingly, it was coming again, that hot, sharp, spiraling pressure, the wetness, the shattering
spasm of release.

  Outside, a swift autumn squall had raced in over the mountain tops from the sea. The wind moaned. A hard rain pelted the windows like a shower of stones. The crimson moon rose. Inside, lost in a storm of their own making, Dan and Savannah surrendered to the darkness.

  Afterwards, they lay together, in a tangle of arms and legs, cocooned as the rain streaked down the windows.

  “Are we alive?” Savannah asked finally.

  “I don’t know.” He touched his mouth to her breast, his lips warm against her cooling flesh. “Your heart’s beating.”

  “That’s a relief.” She cuddled closer and did the same to him. “So’s yours.”

  “Yeah.” Dan skimmed a hand down her damp hair, all the way to her hip, then back up again. “I figure it should be back to a normal rate sometime in the next century…. Christ, you’re unbelievable,” he managed with what little breath he had left.

  “I’m having a little trouble believing it myself.”

  He rolled over to face her, taking her with him, viewed the wonder in her still slightly unfocused gaze and felt a surge of chauvinistic male satisfaction for having put it there.

  “I never felt that way before. I never realized it was possible to feel that way.” She lifted a hand to his cheek.

  “It’s us,” he said as he curled his fingers around her wrist and brought her hand to his lips. “You and I together.”

  He kissed each fingertip, one at a time, and watched the renewed desire warm those incredible green eyes. Dan was considering the possibilities of going for a personal best when his stomach growled, reminding him of other physical hungers.

  “As much as I’d like to keep you in bed forever, I did promise you dinner.”

  “I suppose we should keep our strength up. Since I have a vested interest in your stamina.”

  “Sweetheart, the day you have to worry about my stamina where you’re concerned is the day they stick me in the ground.” He kissed her hard, savoring her taste in a way that almost had him deciding to forgo food.

  He was given a tantalizing view of a sweetly curved bottom when she leaned down and retrieved her sweatshirt. “You won’t be needing this.” He plucked it from her hand and tossed it aside.

  “Daniel!” she complained as the sweatshirt hit a chair across the room and slid back to the floor. “You can’t expect me to eat dinner naked.”

  “Sure I do.” He yanked on his jeans and a chambray shirt he didn’t bother to button. “As a chef yourself, you undoubtedly know that dazzling scenery can improve any meal.”

  “I can’t do it.” He nearly laughed when she actually crossed her arms over her breasts. It was a little late for modesty, since he’d already seen—and tasted—just about every fragrant inch of that lush body. “I won’t do it.”

  Dan had not a single doubt that if he pulled out his persuasive powers, he could change her mind, but reluctantly decided that the fantasy of Savannah perched naked across the table from him, looking like some mermaid who’d washed up on his beach, was yet one more thing to look forward to.

  Which was why, minutes later, clad in the sweatshirt and a piece of lace too skimpy to be properly considered underwear, she was sitting on a kitchen stool, long legs crossed, sipping on the wine as she resumed reading Lucy’s journal where they’d left off.

  “‘Even after all this time, and all these miles, the idea of what I’d done still seemed incredible,’” she read while Dan started a pot of rice steaming. “‘It was almost as if I’d been dreaming. But if I were, as I drank in the welcoming sight of the town that appeared to be as neat and tidy as a Swedish kitchen, I never wanted to awaken.

  “‘Harlan was waiting on the platform, as promised. His photograph, while portraying a handsome man, had not begun to do him justice. He is tall, with shoulders the breadth of ax handles, and possesses a thick shock of dark hair. His jaw is firm, and the strong planes of his face appear to have been chiseled from granite. His size and strong features would give him a forbidding appearance were it not for his smile and his incredible eyes.’”

  “I think she likes him,” Dan said as he retrieved a white waxed-paper bundle of shrimp from the refrigerator.

  “It seems so,” Savannah agreed. “Which is fortunate, since it doesn’t sound like turning around and going back home was an option.” She turned the page and continued.

  “‘How shall I even attempt to describe Harlan Hyatt’s eyes? They reminded me of hot chocolate—warm and dark and smooth. As I stared up at him, two thoughts crossed my mind simultaneously. How could this man still be unmarried at the age of thirty? And what had I done right in my life to be gifted with such a husband?

  “‘I know I’m no beauty. Hannah, who was gifted with our mother’s looks and our father’s manner of plain speaking, has certainly pointed out that unpalatable fact on more than one occasion. Yet, amazingly, Harlan seemed as mesmerized by my appearance, as rumpled and road weary as it admittedly was.

  “‘For a long, suspended moment he stared down at me, his expressive dark eyes looking hard and deep, as if he could see all the way into my soul, and perhaps my heart, which was now pounding as furiously as a drum.’”

  “Bingo.” Dan began chopping mushrooms, scallions, and red bell pepper with a dexterity that, having firsthand experience of his clever hands, no longer surprised her. “Looks as if it’s mutual.”

  “Yet just a few years later, she was supposedly running away on the day that she drowned.” Savannah frowned as she took a sip of wine. “I wonder what happened.”

  “Keep reading and maybe we’ll find out.”

  Savannah shook her head and sighed as she thought about lost dreams. “‘His first words were not poetic. Indeed, they were more than a little prosaic. “Welcome to Coldwater Cove,” he said in a smooth, deep voice that wrapped around me like a velvet cape, embracing me in its warmth. On the spot, I decided that this man didn’t need pretty words.

  “‘“I’m pleased to finally be here,” I responded with equal formality.

  “‘We fell silent, studying each other. Finally, when my nerves were stretched as taut as a piano wire, I glanced down at the wildflowers he was holding in one huge fist and asked if they were for me.’”

  Dan grinned over his shoulder at Savannah as he dumped the vegetables into a copper-bottomed pan with some grated ginger. “A man of excellent tastes.”

  Savannah smiled back, remembering the wildflowers he’d given her the night of the Sawdust Festival, then returned to Lucy’s journal.

  “‘He practically shoved them into my hand. I found the embarrassed flush rising from his collar immensely endearing and assured him that no bride could ever wish for a more beautiful bouquet.

  “‘For some reason my words made him frown. “I’d hoped to marry you the moment you stepped off the train, but it seems that there’s a problem,” he said. The heavy regret in his tone caused my heart to take a steep and perilous dip.’

  “Uh oh,” Savannah murmured.

  Dan topped off her wineglass. “Don’t stop now.”

  Even knowing that they had married, Savannah was suddenly as tense as Lucy must have been at that moment.

  “‘My mind spun with reasons for the frown darkening his face. I knew I’d never return home. There was no way I’d endure listening to Hannah saying “I told you so” for the rest of my life.’”

  “Hannah sounds like a real gem.” Dan tossed the shrimp into the pan and splashed in soy sauce.

  “Not everyone is fortunate to have a sister like Raine.” Savannah turned another page.

  “‘“Unfortunately,” he revealed, “the good citizens of Coldwater Cove won’t allow it.”

  “‘“Oh?” I asked with very real trepidation. My heart had now sunk down to my toes.

  “‘“We’re a small, close community,” he explained. “A wedding is a very special occasion, and the townspeople are not going to be denied their chance to give you a party.” As if they’d been actors, awaiting their cu
e, the people who were gathered on the platform came forward.

  “‘As Harlan introduced his many friends, I was greeted with such great enthusiasm that I found myself looking forward to the festivities and the wedding Harlan informed me would take place the following day at the lighthouse. But most of all, I looked forward to the rest of my life with my husband.’

  “Damn,” Savannah murmured as she turned the final page. “That’s all there is.”

  “There’s got to be at least another diary somewhere.” The shrimp had turned pink. He stirred in some pineapple chunks, then spooned the mixture atop a mound of rice.

  “Unless she stopped keeping a journal once she got married.”

  “I’m going to be really disappointed if she did. It’s like a cliffhanger without the final reel.”

  They moved to the nearby table.

  “I wonder, if Lucy had known how tragically her romance—and her life—would end, if she would have gotten on that train in Farmersburg,” Savannah considered.

  “From what we’ve read so far, I’d guess that she wouldn’t have hesitated. Love is always a gamble,” Dan said. “Sometimes you get lucky and the reward turns out to be worth the risk.”

  From the way his expression had turned serious, Savannah had the uneasy feeling that Dan was no longer talking about Lucy and Harlan.

  After dinner, Dan lit another fire in the downstairs grate and they settled back on the sofa.

  “This truly is the most stunning place,” she murmured.

  The swift storm had already moved on toward Seattle. The rain had stopped, washing the star-spangled sky outside the glass wall as clear as crystal.

  Savannah drew in a breath as a falling star crashed down to earth in a shimmering silver trail. “I think I could just stay here, like this, forever.”

  “Why don’t you?” Dan’s tone was casual; his question was not.

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide and, he thought, more than a little wary in the firelight. “I didn’t mean…just because we had sex—”

  “We made love.” Strange how saying the words out loud made Dan realize they were absolutely true. “It may not have been in the plans, but you can’t deny that’s what happened.”