Hold Back The Dawn

by Duncan, Judith

  Hal grinned down at Leslie, a wicked sparkle in his eyes. "I hope I have all his orders straight—he's sure turned into a bossy cuss."

  Leslie couldn't help but smile back at him. Hal put his arm around her, his massive frame shielding her from the jostling crowd as he guided her out of the terminal. The blue Cadillac was right outside the door, parked in the crosswalk, its hazard lights flashing defiantly. Leslie shook her head wryly. The McRorys seemed to make their own rules.

  By the time she was settled in the car, her shoulder was throbbing mercilessly and her bruised leg was aching. She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. It had been several hours since Steve had given her any medication, and it was obvious the numbing effects of the drug had worn off.

  Hal McRory got out of the car when Steve came from the terminal and helped him stow their suitcases in the trunk. Steve walked around to the passenger side, but instead of getting into the front seat, he climbed into the back beside Leslie.

  He took the bottle of capsules from his jacket pocket and handed two to her. "Will you be able to swallow them without water?"

  She nodded her head and put them one at a time in her mouth. Then her eyes widened as Steve eased her onto his lap. Ignoring her bewilderment, he tucked her uninjured arm around his neck, then cradled her head against his shoulder, holding her in a firm comfortable position.

  "Are you ready to roll?" came Hal's inquiry from the front seat.

  There was no humor in Steve's voice when he answered his father. "Yes—and you can break the speed limit if you want." He stroked Leslie's hair as he whispered huskily, "I know you've just about had it, Leslie, but this is the last leg. Try to sleep."

  Leslie couldn't answer him. The tenderness in his voice was nearly her undoing, and she closed her eyes against the sting of threatening tears.

  By the time they hit the outskirts of Calgary, the turmoil of her confused thoughts had fallen victim to a deep drug-induced slumber, and she slept, safe and secure, in Steve's arms.

  She didn't wake up until they arrived at the McRory ranch, where the cold crisp winter air brought her around to a state of semiconsciousness as Steve carried her from the car to the house. Steve and his mother had her settled comfortably in bed in a matter of minutes, and Leslie fell asleep immediately, her hand clasped firmly in Steve's as he watched over her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  WHEN LESLIE AWOKE the next morning, she felt groggy and oddly displaced until she recognized the dainty old-fashioned wallpaper that covered the walls of the tiny bedroom.

  It was then that the fog disappeared abruptly, and was replaced with a feeling of confused desperation. Why? Why had Steve brought her here? She closed her eyes as a sense of acute hopelessness swept over her. She couldn't take much more of the hostility that had radiated from him the last few weeks. She was too battered and bruised, both emotionally and physically. She just wanted to disappear and hide away—from everything and everybody.

  She sighed, then cautiously shifted her body, biting back a groan as a shaft of pain shot through her. She was so stiff and sore that she could barely move, but somehow she managed to ease out of bed and creep to the window.

  Brushing back the curtains, she squinted against the sharp brightness of sunshine reflecting off the brilliant white snow. She stared unseeingly at the rolling land, her small face drawn and pale, her eyes dark with an inner torment. Steve had done her no favor by bringing her here. Too many memories from the happy days they had spent at Christmas crowded in on her, smothering her with a terrible ache.

  She let the curtains fall across the window when she heard the door open behind her. "Good morning, dear. I thought I heard you stirring."

  Leslie forced herself to smile at Doris McRory. "Good morning. By the look of the sun, I would guess that the morning is nearly over, though."

  "It's going on eleven. Steve said you would probably sleep late. I think perhaps my son had a heavy hand with the drugs he was giving you." Mrs. McRory smiled warmly. "He had to go into Calgary today, but he left some very specific orders about you. I don't think he trusts us on our own."

  It isn't you he doesn't trust, Leslie thought grimly.

  "We have an appointment in the city to have your shoulder X-rayed early this afternoon, so we should leave here by twelve-thirty." She began to straighten the bed. "Would you like a hot bath, dear? I'm sure you must be aching all over. You certainly have some nasty bruises."

  Leslie heaved a sigh of appreciation. "There's nothing I would like better."

  Doris pursed her lips with motherly concern. "Steve said I was to be sure and help you, and that I mustn't leave you alone."

  Leslie's smile was slightly fixed as a spurt of anger colored her cheeks. She didn't know why he was so concerned—she certainly wasn't going to drown herself in his damned tub!

  The bath was the most wonderful one Leslie ever had, the heat soaking away the stiffness and soothing her aching muscles. Her shoulder was badly bruised, but the intense pain had definitely eased; unfortunately her ribs and hip were still extremely sore. Mrs. McRory shampooed her hair and blew it dry for her, so by the time Leslie was dressed, she was feeling almost human. Almost.

  By the time they arrived back at the ranch, she was so exhausted that she could hardly drag herself up the stairs. The technician hadn't been particularly gentle in positioning her shoulder for the required X-rays, so it was aching badly again. The doctor had insisted on X-rays of her hip and ribs as well, and she felt as though she'd been thoroughly mauled. Her hipbone was bruised, it turned out, and she had hairline fractures in three ribs, but fortunately no permanent damage had been done to her shoulder. After suffering through the countless X-rays, however, Leslie felt as though someone had tossed her down another flight of stairs.

  Mrs. McRory helped her undress and get into a loose nightgown. With relief, Leslie took the medication the doctor had prescribed and eased herself into bed. She stared unhappily at the ceiling as she waited for the drug to carry her off into oblivion, to block out the thoughts and images that were tormenting her. But unconsciousness did not arrive before the tears of anguish. When she finally fell asleep, her thick eyelashes were tangled and wet, and only in slumber did her tight fists relax. She slept deeply, so she didn't hear the door open, nor did she hear the scrape of the chair as it was drawn closer to the bed.

  THE OLD-FASHIONED FRINGED LAMP on the bureau in the corner cast a dusky amber glow in the room, patterning it with soft murky shadows. Leslie's eyelids were still heavy with sleep as she gazed around. The gentle light was oddly reassuring as it dispelled the darkness.

  Her vision blurred suddenly as a haunting misery welled up inside her. A desperate little sob escaped her lips when the reality of her loneliness fragmented that brief tranquility. She covered her face with her left hand, struggling to stifle the sobs of panic that were choking her.

  There was a whisper of a sound, then a masculine hand caught her wrist. Steve's voice was strained as he whispered, ''Don't cry, Leslie—please, don't cry." He slipped his arm beneath her as he sat down on the bed beside her.

  Leslie looked at him, her tear-glazed eyes wide with uncertainty at this unexpected change in him. The anger was gone. Her mouth was trembling when she spoke, her voice low and shaky. "Steve...?"

  "Shh, Leslie—just let me hold you for a little while." With profound tenderness he lay down beside her and gathered her against him. Leslie clenched her eyes shut as she struggled to swallow the sobs of overpowering relief that assaulted her. Steve silently nestled her shaking body closer to his as he softly stroked her hair.

  It took a long time for the fierce battle of raw emotions to subside in Leslie, but finally, harbored safely within his arms, she was able to relax weakly against him. She didn't try to fathom the change in his attitude toward her; instead, she savored the warmth and closeness of him. He was no longer angry, he was holding her with gentleness, and that was all that mattered.

  She opened her eyes
as Steve's hand spanned her chin. A shudder quivered through him as he kissed her, his lips warm and undemanding. There was a restrained hunger in him that moved her deeply, and Leslie responded to him, yielding to his every touch, offering him the comfort that he was searching for with his sweet poignant kiss.

  He lifted his head and with trembling fingers touched her cheek; then he sucked in his breath and pressed her face against his neck. His eyes were revealing his inner pain, and there was a feeling of desperation radiating from him. An ache twisted around Leslie's heart, an ache that was nearly unbearable. She had not been the only one to suffer agony, and she was filled with a wretched sense of guilt. She had never meant to hurt him as she had.

  She swallowed hard against the tightness in her throat, then murmured huskily, "Please forgive me, Steve. I never meant to hurt you "

  He covered her mouth with his fingers, then looked down at her, his eyes haunted, his face pale and grave. His voice was a tortured whisper when he said, "After all that I've done to you, can you forgive me? I love you, Leslie—so very much. And I need you so badly."

  Fervent hope rose in Leslie as she stared at him, her expressive elfin face registering her disbelief. There was a moment of electric silence, then she whispered tremulously, "Are you sure you still want me?"

  "Yes! God, yes! I want you and I need you "

  There was such anguish in his voice that it hurt Leslie to hear it. He buried his face in her hair as he groaned, "I can't imagine my life without you. Nothing would mean anything to me unless I have you."

  Leslie slipped her uninjured arm around his shoulders as happiness burst within her. The cold aching emptiness was shattered, leaving her filled with a beautiful warmth and fierce protective love. Tears of relief streamed down her face as she clung to him with all the strength she possessed.

  "Oh, Steve, I've been so terrified. I didn't know how I would survive without you. I felt like I was dying inside."

  "I've been such a bastard, Leslie. When you told me about Kaidon Industries, I couldn't think rationally. All I could see was all that damned money, and I felt like you'd bought me. To me, it seemed as though you'd deliberately trampled my pride and my sense of independence. It damned near destroyed me to know that you didn't need me as much as I thought you did."

  Easing away from him, she laid her hand on his cheek, her face solemn. "But I do need you—in so many ways. I need your strength, your love. I need the sense of security only you can give me." She smoothed her hand across his tense face, her eyes willing him to understand. "You saw the money—all I see is the awesome responsibility. Someday Gordon isn't going to be there to give direction, and that frightens me to death. Thousands of people around the world depend on Kaidon Industries for a livelihood, and someday the decisions for running that company are going to be mine. It terrifies me. I know I can't handle it alone." She caught his hand and laced her fingers through his, her grip transmitting her fear. "I don't need you to support me financially, Steve, but I desperately need you to support me in so many other ways. I need you...far more than you need me." Tears were glistening in her thick lashes and her voice was shaking with an urgency to make him understand.

  Steve stared at her for a moment, then pulled her against him and pressed his face against her neck, his breath warm against her skin. "Ah, Leslie—I feel like such a heel for hurting you so. I've been so blind."

  She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his. "I love you, Steve McRory. You have no idea how safe I feel when you hold me."

  With tender care, he eased her onto her back and gazed down at her as he bracketed her face with his hands, his eyes filled with regret. "There have been so many times I've loathed myself for how I was treating you. Your deception drove me to retaliation. I deliberately set you up so that you'd have to face Luther Denver, and then there was that ugly incident. I felt so damned responsible, but it was too late to undo the damage. When you locked yourself in your room and refused to talk to me, I felt so rotten—you were so alone." His face contorted with a grimace of remembered agony. "And when I grabbed you so brutally after your fall...and I hurt you so..."

  Leslie smoothed her fingers along his cheek, her eyes dark with tenderness and compassion. "Don't Steve—please don't torture yourself thinking about the past. It doesn't matter anymore. What matters is this very moment." She caught the back of his head and pulled it down. She kissed him softly, her mouth pliant, warm and inviting.

  Steve groaned and twisted his mouth away, his body trembling. "Leslie.. .ah, Leslie, don't tempt me. My control is shot to hell and I want you so badly."

  "Steve..."

  He covered her parted lips with his fingers, his eyes smokey and haunted. "I have to leave in a couple of hours. I have to catch the last airbus from Calgary to Edmonton so I can meet Bob Jansen early tomorrow morning—he's flying me back to Redwillow." He closed his eyes, his face lined with regret. "I don't want to go—God, I don't want to go." He looked at her, and Leslie could see the misery that was tearing at him. "Six more rigs will be moving into Redwillow in the next few weeks, Leslie, and I have to be there."

  Leslie tenderly combed her fingers through his tawny hair, her eyes soft with understanding. "I know you do."

  "I don't want to leave you."

  "I know that, too."

  His face softened as he tenderly caressed her slender neck, his touch feather soft, sending shivers of pleasure tingling down her spine. "I'll be back in four weeks, Les, and we should be able to manage a few days to ourselves. If you don't mind not having a big wedding, we could be married— "

  Her eyes were shining with happiness and unshed tears as she hugged him tightly against her. "Oh, Steve, I don't want a big wedding. I just want you, and the sooner the better!"

  Steve laughed huskily, his eyes kindling with a mesmerizing warmth. "I do like that kind of enthusiasm."

  She smiled at him softly, her dimples flashing. "Do you now?"

  "Yes, I do...and you know it." He kissed her soundly, then released his hold on her and sat up. "Come on, we'd better get the hell out of this bedroom. The situation could get out of hand pretty fast."

  Leslie slanted a provocative look at him. "I'm sure you could handle it."

  "Leslie " Behind the laughter was a warning note that she recognized, and she smiled.

  "Cheek." He laughed as he carefully helped her off the bed. "We'd better go down and talk this over with mom and dad. But knowing my mother, she probably has everything planned already."

  He kissed her again, his mouth lingering for a breathtaking moment. Then with a shaky sigh, he took her hand firmly in his and led her from the room.

  Steve paused on the little landing halfway down the stairs. He whispered her name, and Leslie looked up at him, her bubble of happiness giving way to a familiar heart-stirring warmth when she saw the smoldering look in his eyes. She buried her fingers in his tawny hair as he bent his head, his mouth covering hers in a demanding kiss that rocketed them into a dimension of passion filled with naked hunger.

  His mouth was hot and moist as his tongue probed the sweetness of her mouth, with a desperate urgency that sent her senses wildly spinning. Desire licked through her blood like wildfire, robbing her of every coherent thought except the need to hold Steve in her arms, to experience the soaring release of love. She gave a low moan of protest when he jerked his mouth away, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding frantically as he nestled her against him.

  "These next four weeks are going to be the longest weeks of my life. God, but I'm going to miss you."

  LESLIE DISCOVERED FOR HERSELF that Steve's prediction was all too accurate. The days crawled by with agonizing slowness, and the nights were tortured and never ending. Her longings left her sleepless and aching for his touch. The only thing that kept her sane was Steve's nightly phone calls, but even those were tainted by the knowledge that they were hundreds of miles apart.

  Doris McRory, in her warm, perceptive way, offered Leslie the understanding that
had been denied to the young woman all her life. During the following days, a strong bond of friendship developed between the two, and Leslie cherished the sense of belonging that filled her with such deep contentment.

  The plans for the wedding seemed simple enough initially. There was to be an informal church wedding, followed by an open house at the McRory ranch. Leslie had felt guilty about involving Doris in so much extra work, but she wisely sensed that the McRorys' would be offended if she had hired caterers for the reception. Steve's sisters enthusiastically pitched in to help, all of them delighted that their big brother had finally decided to marry, especially since they all so thoroughly approved of Leslie.

  However the preparations soon turned into a community event, and more than once Leslie was moved to the brink of tears by the warm generosity of the people in the district.

  And the days did pass, one by one. Steve was to arrive home late Thursday night, and Leslie was counting the hours. By Wednesday she felt like the clock had stopped. She was restless and edgy, her nerves stretched taut by the endless waiting. To make matters worse, Steve's call that night was very brief, and for Leslie, very unsatisfactory.

  When she finally went to bed, she tossed and turned fitfully, unable to sleep. Steve would be home tomorrow, and the thought filled her with excitement and eager anticipation. She felt exactly like a child who was fidgeting her way through the unremitting eternity of Christmas Eve.

  Finally, climbing out of bed, she went to the window and stared out at the snow-covered landscape, which was bathed in the silver glow of a full moon. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the cool windowpane, able to think of nothing but that moment when they'd finally be alone. An aching fever curled inside her as she thought about that moment when their bodies would be welded together as one...