September's Dream (23 page)

"That’s enough, Jase Conroy. Smoke your dumb cigarette and keep your mouth shut."

He looked up in surprise to see little sparks dancing in her eyes. "You did ask me how it was."

"And you couldn’t wait to criticize."

He wanted to laugh but stopped himself. "September." He patted the fur beside him. "Sit down and relax. Let’s just watch the night sky and count the stars, or something, without fighting."

She sat down stiffly beside him, determined not to talk anymore about herself.

"How do you know so much about Alaska?" she asked. "How can you just walk across the frozen wilderness and not get lost?"

He drew on the cigarette and watched the smoke curl above their heads and dissipate into the cold air.

"I grew up here."

"In Alaska? I didn’t think anyone lived here before gold was discovered."

"Some people did. My father was a trapper. My mother was a teacher. She was all set to go back home to England, by way of proper Boston. But after she met my father, she decided she wanted to stay here. It was a wonderful place to grow up. Clean. Untouched. A paradise."

"It’s strange, hearing you call this wilderness a paradise."

He pointed to the shaggy forests, looming like sentinals in the pristine setting. "There’s enough game here so that a man need never go hungry. The lakes are teeming with fish." His voice softened. "You should see these valleys in the summer."

"It’s hard to picture this wilderness without snow covering it."

He chuckled, a deep, warm sound. "In June, the sun shines around the clock."

She looked astonished.

"It’s true. They call this the Land of the Midnight Sun. And in July, the sun shines twenty hours a day. The temperature rises to eighty or more degrees, melting some of the frost and providing irrigation. The land is dotted with flowers. I’ve seen vegetables as big as a man’s head."

"Now I know you’re teasing me," September muttered.

He touched a strand of her hair, then quickly dropped it. "It’s all true. You’d love it here in summer."

At his touch her mouth went dry. She swallowed. "If I didn’t freeze to death first in winter."

"You just have to look a little harder to see the beauty," he offered. "Listen."

She cocked her head and heard a muted sound.

"A snowy owl," he whispered. "And there." He pointed to a dark shadow circling in the sky. "Hawk. Looking for some sign of life in the snow. He’s hungry."

He pointed to the horizon. "I think the sunsets over these ice fields are the prettiest in the world."

She nodded her agreement.

"And the silence. Listen to it. It’s so peaceful," he murmured.

September sat beside him, listening to the night sounds. It was true. In Skagway, as in San Francisco, there had always been gunshots and rough voices, shouting, laughter, the sounds of fighting, and loving, and living. But here, there was time to think, to feel, to savor.

She turned to watch Jase as he smoked contentedly. There was a softness in his features that she’d never seen before. In Skagway, and along the trail, there was a toughness about him. He was a man determined to do a job, without distraction. But here, with a fire to warm his back and a ritual evening cigarette when the chores were done, he seemed a man at peace with himself.

When he had smoked the cigarette to the end, he tossed it into the snow and turned to her. "You must be tired. If you’ll help me up, we’ll turn in."

With his arm around her shoulders, she supported him back to the bed of furs.

"Sorry to be such a burden," he grumbled.

"You’re no such thing. In a few days you’ll feel much stronger. You’ll see."

She settled him down among the pelts, then added a log to the fire. Slipping off his flannel shirt, she lay it over a rock, then paused before climbing in beside him.

"Do you need anything?"

Jase watched the way the firelight touched her face with light and shadow. "Nothing."

As she lifted the edge of the fur, he caught sight of the bruises on her wrist and arm.

Angrily he caught her hand, holding her fast. "What are those?"

She avoided his eyes. "They’re nothing."

His nostrils flared. "Nothing? You have one here, and here, and over here." His fingers traced her wrists, her upper arm. "How did you get them?"

Her voice was barely a whisper. "You thought the wolves were attacking while you slept."

His eyes narrowed fractionally. "I did this to you?"

She pulled her hand away. "You didn’t know what you were doing."

She saw his gaze move up to the marks on her throat. Quickly she turned away and slid between the covers.

"My God. I tried to choke you." His voice sounded strangled.

"Don’t, Jase. Let it be."

"Let’s finish this. Answer me. Did I try to choke you?"

"Yes." It was a whisper.

"September." She heard the command in his tone. "Look at me."

Slowly she turned.

"What else did I do to you?"

"Jase, it doesn’t matter now. You’re mending. Soon you’ll be strong enough to travel. Let’s not talk—"

"What else?"

She lay very still beside him, trying not to touch him with any part of her body. "You’re very strong. You tossed me against the wall once. We wrestled on the bed several times." She gave him a half-smile. "And you swore a blue streak when I fought back. I learned some new cuss words I’d never heard before."

His eyes went dark, as dark as the midnight sky. His voice was a low rumble of self-loathing. "I’m sorry, September. I’d never knowingly hurt you."

Hearing the pain in his tone, she leaned up on one elbow. "Don’t think about it, Jase. You were out of your head with the fever. You didn’t know what you were doing."

"I could have killed you."

She heard the anguish in his voice.

"But you didn’t. Now let it be. I don’t want to talk about it again." She touched his arm. "My Ma used to say, ‘What happened yesterday shouldn’t be argued about tomorrow.’"

For long moments he stared at her hand. Without a word he lifted it to his mouth and pressed his lips to the bruises at her wrist.

Fire and ice raced along her arm, then seemed to radiate through her whole body.

Very slowly, he moved his mouth along her arm, then pressed his lips to the bruise on the inside of her elbow. At the touch of his lips, she felt her flesh begin to heat. He caught her other hand and she sank back against the furs. Lifting her hand, he pressed his lips to the bruises at her wrist, then rolled to his side. His gaze riveted on the marks at her throat. Before she could protest, he touched his lips to the spot.

Her heart leaped, then began hammering in her chest. Never, never had a man’s touch been so gentle. She swallowed and pushed a hand to his chest, trying to keep a barrier between them. With his left hand he traced the hollow of her throat, then moved the narrow band of her chemise to reveal the little birthmark at her shoulder.

"Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?" he asked gruffly as he bent his lips to her shoulder.

He dropped little butterfly kisses along her skin and was rewarded with a sigh which seemed to come from deep within her.

"You walked into Mueller’s Store and began describing your father. And without thinking, you revealed your birthmark, which you claimed was identical to his."

September felt her cheeks flame as she recalled the scene.

"Your skin is so soft," he murmured almost in reverence. He ran a work-roughened finger along the slender column of her throat, then lower, to her collarbone, then lower still, until he touched the lacy top of her chemise.

She crossed her hands across her breasts, preventing him from further exploration. She wanted to open her arms wide and cling to him. Why didn’t she want to stop Jase, as she had stopped the others? What was there about this man’s touch which left her breathless for more?

Jase cursed the pain in his right shoulder and moved to a more comfortable position. Leaning over her, he brushed his lips across her eyelids, then, with his mouth slightly open, he traced the curve of her cheek, stopped to nip her earlobe, then slowly moved along her jaw.

September’s heart seemed to stop beating. She forgot to breathe. She kept her eyes firmly closed. All her being was focused on the need for his lips on hers. Still he hesitated, tracing her full lower lip with his tongue. She swallowed. It was an eternity of waiting and wanting. If only she knew what to do.

"Put your arms around me, September."

Her eyes flew open. She stared into the darkest eyes she had ever seen.

"When I kiss you, I want you to hold me," he whispered.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, her arms came around him, thrilling to the warm flesh beneath her touch.

His lips covered hers in a searing kiss. He took her fully into the kiss, his lips moving, his tongue expertly parting her lips and probing the sweetness of her mouth.

She had always wondered how she would swallow when a man kissed her like this. That fear dissolved as she was caught up in feelings too powerful for thought.

Her breasts were flattened against his chest. She was so soft, so small in his arms. She fit so perfectly to him, as if she had been made for him alone.

As he took the kiss deeper, he felt her hands clutch and knead the skin of his back. All this time he had remembered the taste of her, the wonderful woman scent of her, the way she had felt in his arms the first time he kissed her. So many nights since then he had lain awake, dreaming of holding her like this. He had known this kiss would unleash the smoldering passion he had nurtured for so long. And he had hoped that she would react like this to his touch. What he hadn’t anticipated was the hard, driving need. It fired him, drove him, consumed him. He wanted her as he had never wanted any woman before.

September became caught up in the kiss, reveling in the wonderful dark mysteries of him. He tasted faintly of whiskey and tobacco. His body was lean and muscled, complementing her softness. His work-roughened hands felt wonderful against her fine skin. He had been surprisingly gentle, helping her overcome her shyness. But now, as he took the kiss deeper, she could feel his control slipping.

She knew this could lead to that strange, mysterious place she had never been. The thought of making love with Deke had offended her. And Snake had repulsed her. But with Jase everything was different.

Her body was a mass of nerve endings. As his hands moved gently along her sides, his thumbs grazed the soft swell of her breasts. Instantly, she flinched and began to push away. No man had ever touched her like this before. His hands moved to her back, making gentle circles, until she relaxed once more in his arms. Then once again his thumbs found her breasts. This time, although she gave a little gasp, she didn’t push away. As his thumbs teased her nipples, she felt them grow hard. Deep inside her something tightened, then began throbbing.

A little moan escaped her lips. Arching herself slightly, she murmured his name as he slid down the straps of her chemise and brought his lips to her breast.

September had never known such feelings. She had never dreamed a man’s hands and lips could bring such pleasure. Her bones had melted. Her whole body seemed to have turned to liquid. She moved in his arms, awash in the sensual pleasure of his touch.

He moved to his back and brought her on top of him. Her eyes, when she looked down into his, were darkened with desire.

He felt her tremble. "Oh, Jase. I’m so afraid. I’ve never felt like this before."

"I want you, September. As I’ve never wanted anyone, anything."

She brushed her lips over his, and heard his groan of pleasure. Then she pulled back.

I’m afraid
, she thought.
I’m so afraid. There are things I should know. But I don’t. And Jase will realize, and be disappointed. And then he’ll turn away from me. Oh, Mama. Why didn’t we ever talk about love?

Jase sensed her hesitation. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," she lied, struggling for some semblance of sanity. "I want—to go to sleep."

His eyes narrowed slightly. The hands at her back stilled. If only he had the words to tell her how he felt. The con man on the boat would have found the words. And the miner with his sack of gold didn’t need words. After all the others, she probably found him a crude disappointment. What had he been thinking of, that he should try to take a beautiful woman like September on a primitive bed of furs in a cave?

Suddenly Jase’s shoulder throbbed. The pain in his leg became a knife thrust. Yet everything paled next to the pain in his heart. "We both need sleep. It’s been a long ordeal. I just lost my head." He felt the dampness of her tears against his skin. "Are you crying?"

She pushed away, embarrassed. "No. Something in my eye, I guess."

"You need some sleep. We both do." He rolled away from her.

Feeling more alone than at any time in her life, September bit back the sob that threatened to choke her. Angrily brushing away the tears, she took a long, shuddering sigh and forced herself to he very still.