The Fur Trader's Daughter: Rendezvous (Destiny's Daughters Book 3)

by Colleen French

  As the morning passed and the shadows in the cabin lengthened into afternoon, Alex began to get nervous. Where had Gabrielle gone? He hobbled to the cabin door several times to look out on the snow-covered forest but saw no sign of them save for the footprints that disappeared to the north. He went over the conversations from the night before, trying to remember if she had said anything about leaving this morning.

  She must be all right, he told himself as he ate two cold biscuits near dark. She left with Peg; she must still be with him. But by the time he had to light the lamp over the fireplace, he was almost frantic. Why did this girl mean so much to him? She had taken care of herself this long. She had escaped Seattle and the clutches of the man who was pursuing her. Why didn't he think she could look out for herself now?

  Alex thought of the man who had chased her into his arms in Seattle. Who was he and why was Gabrielle so adamant about not speaking of him? When she returned safely, Alex vowed to question her again.

  When the sound of barking sled dogs- filled the clearing, Alex was on his feet, hurrying across the room. He swung open the door, letting light fall into the darkness. "Where have you been?" he shouted over the howling dogs.

  Gabrielle got down on her hands and knees in the snow and began to release the dogs from their harnesses. "What do you mean? I went up river with Peg to lay a trap line."

  "I was worried about you," Alex said before he could catch himself. It was snowing now, and the flakes caught in Gabrielle's hair creating a halo of bright white.

  "Worried about me?" She gave a laugh. "Why would you be worried about me?" She had freed all eight huskies and was patting them on their backs, calling their names.

  Alex shook his head. "God only knows why," he murmured to himself. He stood there in the doorway, watching her feed the dogs from the fresh fish she carried on the sled. Finally, she came into the cabin, brushing past Alex.

  "Look, if we're going to live together all winter, we're going to have to get a few things straight." She put her parka on the peg on the wall and began to pull her wool sweater over her head. "You're not my father."

  "I didn't say I was."

  "So why are you worrying where I am? I've been coming and going through these woods since I was a babe." She planted her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer.

  Alex shrugged. "I don't know . . . all right? I don't know why I care."

  Gabrielle gave a nod, her dark eyes meeting his for just an instant. "All right. I'm sorry. I guess I should have told you I'd be gone all day. I just didn't think about it. I'm not used to checking in and out with anyone. My father never paid much attention to where I was going."

  "What about your mother? Didn't she care where her five-year-old was?"

  Gabrielle turned her back to him. "Not hardly. I haven't seen my mother more than twenty or thirty times in my life."

  Alex was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

  "You weren't." Her back was still to him as she busied herself with the fresh fish she'd carried in. "It's no secret around here. My mother left my father and I before I was a year old. She lives in Seattle. Works at the Red Sash. You know what that is?" She turned to Alex slowly.

  "You don't have to tell me this, Gabrielle. It doesn't matter to me." He could see the pain in her eyes; he could see how tightly she held the tin cup in her hand.

  "It should matter to you if you come from the kind of family you say you do." Her eyes dropped to the floor for a moment, and then she looked at him again. "My mother is a whore, Alex. Always has been. Always will be." She spun back around and began to chop the fish vigorously with a knife.

  Alex leaned on the wooden table, resting his chin in his palm. His chest ached with her pain. All he could think of was wrapping her in his arms and holding her against him. "I'm sorry, Gabrielle," he told her.

  "So am I," she answered softly. She wiped her hands on a towel and poured two cups of black coffee from the pot on the back of the stove. Silently she brought Alex one, but then instead of returning to the stove, she just stood there.

  He pushed himself to his feet. She was just standing there, staring as he reached out slowly with his good arm. Gabrielle's head spun as she leaned toward him, allowing him to pull her against his broad chest.

  The world suddenly came to a standstill as she rested her head on his shoulder. Her eyes drifted shut, and she raised her arms to loop them over his shoulders. She breathed deeply, mesmerized by his heady male scent. No one had ever touched her like this before. No one had ever made her feel so good, so safe.

  Alex moved slowly, afraid he would frighten her. He brushed her curly hair with his fingertips, daring to touch her smooth, pale cheek. "I'm going to kiss you, Gabrielle."

  "No," she breathed. But she lifted her head from his shoulder to study his smoky blue eyes.

  "Why not?" His face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

  "No one's ever kissed me before," she answered shakily.

  "No one?"

  She shook her head as he caught her chin to raise it. He lowered his mouth to brush his lips gently against hers. Gabrielle sighed, her eyes drifting shut as she felt his flesh make contact with hers. Did all men have such soft, inviting lips? He withdrew slightly, and she raised her eyelids to study his face.

  "I liked that," Gabrielle murmured, wide eyed.

  Alex laughed softly, brushing his lips against the springy curls on her forehead. "I'm glad. I liked it, too."

  "Could you do it again?" she asked hesitantly.

  Alex marveled at her honesty as he leaned to kiss her again, this time lingering for a moment over her trembling lips. He wanted to deepen the kiss, to taste the sweetness of her mouth, but he didn't want to push her too far.

  Gabrielle clung to Alex, letting the heat of his flesh seep through her flannel shirt. Her breasts tingled as she moved to rest her head on his shoulder. For a few moments Alex held her, listening to the sound of her soft breathing, enchanted by the feel of her heart pounding against his chest.

  Finally, he pulled back. "Enough kissing," he told her, brushing his lips against her forehead. "How about something to eat, and then we'll talk."

  Gabrielle brushed her fingertips against her lips. What was wrong with her? She had let this man, this stranger, kiss her! Yet she had never felt anything so glorious! Nothing had ever made her heart beat like this. Nothing had ever made her feel so deliciously warm inside. "All right," she murmured, turning away from him. "Something to eat." She couldn't help smiling as she dug for her frying pan in the side cupboard.

  Long after Alex had fallen asleep, Gabrielle lay on the quilt on the floor staring at the dying embers in the stone fireplace. She brushed her fingers over her lips again and again, trying to recall every ripple of pleasure that had surged through her body as Alex had kissed her. She was in awe. How could a man make her feel that good? The act was so simple, so meaningless. She smiled in the darkness. Her first kiss.

  But where was this going to lead? Would he expect another kiss tomorrow? Would he expect more? She groaned inwardly, rolling onto her back. She shouldn't have allowed it to happen. It was her own fault. She knew what one kiss would lead to. Hadn't her mother started with a single kiss? And now look at her. . . Alice LeBeau, the best whore on News Street.

  Gabrielle's face hardened with determination. She would not be her mother's daughter. She'd be no whore! Her feelings for Alex would pass if she'd just let them. The best way to handle this, she told herself, is just to pretend it never happened. It was a mistake—a sin of the flesh—and it would not happen again.

  Chapter Seven

  "Damn it, Gabrielle! Don't do this to me!" Alex clenched his fists in frustration. He'd kissed her over a week ago, and since then, she had been treating him as if he carried the black plague. She had stopped assisting him in and out of bed; she was going out of her way to keep from coming in any physical contact with him. She barely spoke.

  Gabrielle looked up fro
m the ground where she was kneeling on a quilt in the snow. Across her lap was the new set of dog traces she'd been hand stitching. They had been outside more than an hour, soaking up the fall sunshine. She hummed while she worked, trying to ignore Alex who sat in a chair, his feet wrapped in a blanket. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied as nonchalantly as possible.

  "The hell you don't! I've had enough; now tell me what's wrong."

  "Nothing's wrong. Why would you think anything was wrong?" She had left her hat inside, exposing her dark tresses to the noonday sun. Outside, her curls lit up with bright golds and reds, mirroring the sun's rays. It was all Alex could do to keep his eyes off her.

  "Gabrielle, all I did was kiss you." He extended an arm. "Have I upset you that much? Did I misunderstand?"

  She leaned over the leather harness, forcing a needle through the soft leather. "It was a mistake," she murmured. She didn't have the courage to lift her head.

  "What do you mean it was a mistake?" He ran a hand through his dark red hair. "You liked it so much you asked me to do it again!"

  Gabrielle's cheek colored against her will. "I said I made a mistake. I'm sorry."

  "That's not good enough, Gabrielle."

  "I don't know what the problem is, Alex." She forced the needle through the leather, jabbing the tip of her index finger. "Ouch!" She pushed the injured finger into her mouth, nursing it.

  "We can't live like this all winter." He shoved up the sleeves of the wool sweater he wore, suddenly feeling overly warm. It had been Rouge LeBeau's sweater.

  She raised her head, lifting a dark eyebrow. "Have you got a better offer?"

  Alex regarded her in silence for a moment. "As cold and uncaring as the ice on that river, are you?" His jaw jutted out, the line of his lips taut with anger. "I don't need this, Gabrielle. I'm too old to play games with virgins. We both feel something for each other, but let me tell you something. I'll not chase after you. You're going to have to meet me halfway."

  "Me, feel something for you?" Her voice was uncommonly high-pitched as she pointedly ignored his statement about virgins. "What makes you think I want some man chasing after me, tugging at my drawers?"

  "Do I look stupid, Gabrielle? I see you watching me in the darkness after you've blown out the lamp. Come on now, admit it. You're not as innocent as you seem. You feel it too." He lowered his voice. "Don't worry, it scares me too."

  "I'm not afraid of anything and certainly not you," she spat, getting to her feet. "And I think this is all damned well presumptuous of you."

  "Where are you going? Why do you keep running from me?" He watched her shake the snow from the quilt and gather her things.

  "Look, this is my cabin, my property. I did you a favor by letting you stay here. I'm not doing you any other favors. You got that?"

  Alex listened to her stomp off, dragging the new harness behind her. He looked skyward, beckoning with a hand. "Why me?" he asked aloud. "How do I get into these things?" But no answer came. The snowy forest was silent except for the occasional call of a distant ptarmigan.

  Moments later Gabrielle came out of the cabin, a pack on her back. She brushed past Alex without a word, heading south down the path that led out of the clearing.

  "Where are you going?" he taunted. "You going to spend the rest of your life running . . . from the fellow on the dock . . . from me?"

  Gabrielle spun around, startling Alex. He hadn't expected her to reply. He hadn't anticipated the full-fledged wrath plain on her windburned face. "You don't know anything about him! I had to run! He wants to kill me!"

  "You're right. I don't know anything about him. So tell me. You've got to tell someone." Alex pushed himself to his feet. The pain was not as great as it had been, but it still knocked the wind out of him.

  She yanked her red wool hat over her head. "I don't have to tell you anything. I don't have to tell anyone! I can take care of myself!"

  "If you could take care of yourself, he wouldn't have been chasing you."

  "You son-of-a-bitch!" Her gaze locked on his. She was so mad she wanted to hit him, to beat him with her fists.

  "You know, I thought that somewhere beneath that façade there was real woman, a woman who could laugh, could cry. A woman who could love." He sat down. "Guess I was wrong. . . ."

  Gabrielle's hand went to cover her trembling lips. Please don't let me cry, she begged silently. Exhaling, she turned slowly around. If she spoke again, he would hear the pain in her voice. He would know how much his words hurt her. Without another word, she disappeared into the forest.

  For a long time Alex sat in silence, listening to the snow fall from branches that grew weak and splintered. It was an intriguing sound—first just a creak, then a snap and the snow would come whooshing down to form a heap beneath the weary pine. He sighed, rubbing his hands to warm them. Finally he got up, leaving the wooden chair where it was to go inside. All he wanted right now was to get out of there. He wanted to be rid of that hellion, because he knew that if he'd let her, she'd break his heart.

  Not more than an hour later the cabin door swung open. To Alex's surprise, Indian Jack came walking in.

  "Gabrielle's not here," Alex said.

  Jack gave a nod. "I know. I passed her on McNally's path. I came to see you."

  "Me?" Alex's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

  "I want to tell you about her." Jack shrugged off his seal-skin jacket and began to dig through his pack. To Alex's surprise, he was sporting a new pair of Levi's beneath his leather jerkin. "My Mya sent you a tea to make you strong. I will make it."

  Alex studied the native Indian as he retrieved a pan of snow and put it on the stove to heat. His movements were much like Gabrielle's, smooth and unwasted. He was comfortable in the cabin, seeming to know where everything was kept. How long had Gabrielle said she'd known Jack? Since childhood?

  Jack sat on the chair opposite Alex and withdrew a cigar from beneath his jerkin. "I want you to know. Gabe is different from the others."

  "Different from who? Different how?" Alex leaned forward to study the Indian's weathered face. His cheeks were broad, his nose long. His skin was the color of fresh-turned soil left to bake in the sun.

  Jack took a long time to answer. "She's not like other white women. I won't have her hurt."

  "I have no intention of hurting her."

  Jack studied Alex for a long moment. "Her feelings run deeper than most. She has suffered much for her years."

  "You're talking in circles." Alex leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Tell me what she's been through. The only thing that she's told me is that her mother's a whore and that your parents raised her, here in her father's cabin. What happened to her father?"

  "Gabe wouldn't want me tellin' her business." Jack poured hot water into a cup he'd sprinkled powder into and brought it to Alex. "But I tell you this. The man who killed Gabe's father seeks her as well. He was the man chasing her in Seattle. Gabe is safe here, but if she ever leaves the Tanana, her life will be in danger."

  "Who's after her? Why? You're still not making any sense." Alex took a sip of the hot brew. The taste was odd but not unpleasant.

  Jack sat down across the table from Alex. "She could never leave with you. When the river breaks up, you must go and Gabe must stay."

  "Why would Gabe go anywhere with me?"

  Jack smiled. "Are you such a foolish man that you don't recognize that light in her eyes?" He chuckled. "She loves you, white man." He shook his head. "But she'll get over it if you let her be. You understand what I'm saying?"

  "Gabrielle is of legal age, isn't she? Any woman who can take care of herself out here"—he gestured with open arms—"can certainly make her own decisions, don't you think?"

  Jack toyed with his unlit cigar. "She's never known a man."

  "And you'd prefer it stayed that way?" Agitation was evident in Alex's voice. He understood that Jack was just looking out for Gabrielle, but he didn't like being put on the spot like this. What did
Jack think he was going to do to her? If there was any woman that could look out for herself, it was Gabrielle.

  "No. I didn't say that. I hope Gabe will find someone to share her life with. But this is her life here. She will find someone here. You're not one of us."

  Alex set the tea cup on the table and leaned forward. "What if I told you I was falling in love with her?"

  Jack studied the red-haired man. "I would tell you don't, but if you do, never tell her."

  "Don't tell her! That's ludicrous! Don't you believe that if two people love each other, they should be together?" Alex slammed his fist on the table.

  "Because two people love"—Jack extracted a tin of sulfur matches from beneath his jerkin—"that does not mean they can live in happiness."

  "So what you're telling me is to stay away from her?"

  Jack got slowly to his feet, lighting his cigar. "What I tell you is that if you hurt her, I will hurt you."

  Alex stood up. "You threatening me?"

  The cabin filled with a deep, resounding laughter as Jack picked up his pack to go. "I'm making you a promise."

  Alex stood in silence watching Jack go. These were the strangest damned people he'd ever met! To look at Jack with his rounded stomach and small stature, he'd have never thought he had a violent bone in his body. He smiled to himself. Gabrielle was lucky to have him. Few men, let alone women, could claim to have such a loyal friend. He knew he didn't.

  Gabrielle returned late in the afternoon to find Alex sitting just where she'd left him. Her anger had subsided, and she felt in control again. She liked Alex and wanted him for a friend. If she would just watch herself, she knew she could control that friendship, making sure it didn't become anything more.

  "Evening." Alex spoke first, giving a nod as he pulled the quilt tighter around his legs. The sun was setting now, and it was growing colder by the minute.