Wilderness Passion (8 page)

A minute later he was back. She sat stiffly as he cleaned her head wound and bandaged it with quick efficiency. His touch was sure and steady. She found it hard not to be affected by his closeness, his face only inches from her own when he placed the antiseptic in the wound. Libby made a face as the stinging sensation spread out, bringing tears to her eyes. Biting her lower lip, she refused to let him see her tears, fighting them back.

“Well, we’ve pasted you back together again. Let’s take the rest of the day off and I’ll make camp here.”

Libby gave him a stricken look. “I can go on, Dan. Honest”

He got to his knees, putting the medical items back inside a small watertight bag. “If you could see your face, you wouldn’t say that. You’re pale. Your pulse is jumpy, too.”

“But I wanted to reach the valley by nightfall and start getting my soil and water samples tomorrow morning....”

He muttered something under his breath and got to his feet “You sure as hell have a stubborn streak in you,” he said. His stern features softened somewhat as he gazed down at her. “Look, you’ve been a real trouper on this hike so far. I admire your tenacity, but I don’t admire anyone who won’t listen to what their body is telling them. You can’t tell me you don’t have a splitting headache.”

She avoided his piercing eyes. “I do,” she admitted.

“And you want to walk another five or six miles in this heat?” he challenged.

“Will you teach me how you cook in the great outdoors, then?” she asked, hoping to ease the tension between them.

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Sure. You just rest for now. Your pack has the aspirin in it. We’ll get a couple of those into you and you’ll feel like new,” he promised.

The summer evening remained warm, although the intense heat of the day dissipated when the sun went down. The aspirin made her headache magically disappear, and Libby took renewed interest in his ability to cook delicious meals in such rugged surroundings. At his direction she stirred crushed corn flour and warm water, making it into a thick, doughy consistency. He had found some wild blackberries not far away and dropped a handful in, along with some walnuts from his pack.

“I’ll put the dough in a pan with a little grease and set it over these coals, and in about twenty minutes we’ll have what they call pan bread.”

She smiled, finishing the blending and handing the bowl to him. “I’m starved, as usual.”

Dan looked up, his eyes seeming to have lost their glitter of anger. “Sure sign of recovery. Seriously, how are you feeling, Libby?”

She colored under his concerned gaze. “Like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me,” she confessed.

“A meal and a good night’s sleep ought to put you back into commission for tomorrow.” He frowned. “You were damn lucky you didn’t get a concussion from that fall. You scared the hell out of me.”

“I scared the hell out of myself when I saw that snake, believe me. Next time I’ll try to be more watchful around rocky areas,” she promised fervently.

With freeze-dried mushroom soup, the pan bread and brown rice cooked in beef bouillon, along with hot cocoa to drink, Dan made her an unforgettable meal. She wolfed down her share of the food, finally leaning back against the tree trunk, the cup of hot chocolate balanced in her hands. Sighing, she closed her eyes, feeling much better. The pleasant clank of pans and dishes was music to her ears as she sipped the steaming liquid. Closing her eyes, Libby drifted off to sleep, her head tipped back against the trunk.

“Libby?” a voice called. “Come on, city lady, it’s time for you to go to sleep.”

She moaned, feeling Dan’s strong fingers on her shoulder. Weariness was dragging her back into the realm of badly needed rest.

“Lib?”

She moved her head, mumbling something unintelligible. Arms slid around her shoulders and beneath her legs, and she felt like a feather wafting in a breeze. Vaguely aware that Dan had picked her up, she gave no real protest, relaxing against his strong, warm body. His heady male fragrance entered her nostrils as she rested her head against his shoulder. She was only half conscious as he gently tucked her in. And then his fingers caressed the top of her head in a stroking motion, and Libby gave in to the demands of her exhausted body.

In the early morning hours her sleep turned to fragmented bits of nightmare about the rattlesnake. She had seen a snake only two times before in her life, and that was as a very young child. Snakes simply did not exist on the streets of San Francisco or at Half Moon Bay, where she often spent her weekends. Her vivid imagination carried the incident even further as the snake struck at her, his jaws open and venom dripping from his yellowish fangs when he lunged toward her bare, sunburned arm.

Libby jerked awake, screaming. For several seconds she was disoriented, bathed in the horror of the nightmare. A small whimper escaped from her as she buried her head in her perspiring hands. Then strong, lean arms were there, encircling her, holding her protectively.

“It’s all right,” Dan soothed huskily, stroking her hair gently, drawing her against his body.

“Oh, Dan...” she cried.

“You’re trembling. Shh, honey, you’re safe. It was just a bad dream,” he reassured her.

Libby hid her face against his bare chest, unaware of the dark hair beneath her cheek. Tears squeezed from between her tightly shut eyelids as she tried to shake the vision of the rattler. Dan’s fingers kneaded her tense neck and shoulder muscles in an effort to get her to relax. Finally she stopped trembling, but she remained in his embrace, needing the security he offered.

Libby felt her heart pounding in her breast and consciously tried to control her fear. “I—I’m sorry,” she gulped thickly.

Dan leaned over, his fingers brushing the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t be. I would have been surprised if you hadn’t gotten at least one bad dream out of it, Libby.”

The night was cool, as it always was in the mountains, but Dan’s body seemed to radiate heat like the sun itself. “Every time I close my eyes, all I see is that horrible snake!”

He gave her a small squeeze. “It’s too early to get up, Libby—you’re going to have to try to get back to sleep.”

She hated being childish about it. “I feel so stupid,” she whispered. “I kept thinking the snake was in my sleeping bag.” She shivered violently.

“Easy, honey,” he soothed. He drew away, studying her intently. “You are frightened, aren’t you?”

“I—I feel so foolish, Dan. I’m sorry. Like I’m falling apart inside and—” She sobbed, no longer able to hold back the tears. “I don’t mean to be a pain to work with,” she blurted out unsteadily.

He drew her close. “Delayed reaction,” he provided grimly. “Will you be all right here by yourself for a moment?”

Libby had wrapped her arms tightly around her drawn-up legs. “Well...yes. Why?”

He rose and was quickly swallowed up by the pitch darkness. Confused, Libby remained still, trying to control the trembling in her body. Dan reappeared at her side and knelt, unzipping her bag and then opening it up. “Come on,” he coaxed, “lie down here beside me.”

She gave him a startled, wide-eyed look. He managed a soft smile, pulling her down beside him. “Look, Lib, we both need our rest. I think you’ll be able to sleep if I hold you close. We’ve got a rough day ahead of us tomorrow and we can’t afford to keep each other up.” He placed his opened sleeping bag over them.

He maneuvered a speechless Libby around so that her back was curved against his body, her head resting against his arm.

At that point she couldn’t decide which was more disturbing, the rattler or being thrown unexpectedly into Dan’s arms. But as his breathing became regular she realized he was doing it out of practicality. And, more than anything, Dan was practical. That thought soothed her alarm and she felt her shoulders relaxing, the tension melting away.

“Good girl,” he whispered huskily, his breath moist against her neck. “Good night, my druidess. You won’t have any more bad dreams tonight.” His other hand slipped across her T-shirted stomach, resting against her, fitting her perfectly against the frame of his body.

She was safe, and that was all that mattered now. Like a lost kitten, she snuggled against him as exhaustion reclaimed her.

5

T
HE SUN WAS SHINING
through the lacy fingers of the oak tree overhead when Libby stirred drowsily. The mouthwatering smell of oatmeal and coffee wafting on the cool morning air brought her to full wakefulness. Bits and pieces of the previous night’s incident began to filter into her consciousness as she struggled into a sitting position. Had it been a dream after all? Dan’s strong arms about her, holding her close? Libby turned, her lashes lifting to meet the interested gaze of the man who had held her the night before.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice husky.

Libby’s lips parted and a warming tingle went up her spine. Somewhere in the vagueness of her memory she recalled his mouth moving across her lips. Had it been a dream? Her heart fluttered wildly and she experienced a giddiness that left her breathless. Had Dan kissed her sometime during the night? She held his concerned gaze, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. There was a new tenderness in his blue eyes that morning as he watched her, and Libby found it impossible to speak.

“You still look a little pale,” he observed, giving the oatmeal a final stir and then adding bits of dried dates to it. “Want breakfast in bed?” he asked, his mouth pulling into a teasing curve.

Libby ran her fingers through her long, tangled blond hair. “N-no, I’ll get dressed. Give me a minute.”

She quickly dressed and completed her toilet, hurrying back to the campfire. Dan was sitting on a rock, spooning the oatmeal into two bowls.

“What’s your rush?” he asked.

“I just looked at my watch and realized it was eight o’clock”

“Relax, will you? I let you sleep late.” He handed her the bowl. “I’ve been a little rough on you and decided to ease up.”

Libby shot him a startled look, sitting down opposite him and pouring them each a cup of coffee. “What do you mean? Haven’t I been keeping a fast enough pace for you?’’

He shrugged, dipping into the oatmeal. “You’re a tenderfoot. I keep forgetting that because you’re taking to hiking so naturally.’’ He gave her an intense, searching look. “You have stamina, Libby, and I tend to take advantage of people who possess that trait. Yesterday’s accident shouldn’t have happened. I should have been at your side instead of assuming you could get across that difficult area.”

“Thanks for the backhanded compliment,” she murmured. “And you’re right—I love hiking. No one’s more surprised than I am.” She gave him a careless grin, which he returned.

“You have a headache this morning?”

“No. It’s just a little tender,” she responded. A new bond had been built between them, and Libby wasn’t sure when it had happened or why. “Thanks for babysitting me. I feel more than a little embarrassed over my performance last night.”

Dan got to his feet and scraped a second helping of oatmeal into his bowl. He sat down again, his blue eyes dark and unreadable. “I’ve known enough women to know the difference between a performance and actual fear,” he drawled. “And that wasn’t a performance.”

Libby blushed. “I feel like a child out here sometimes, Dan,” she admitted softly. “The wilderness is so vast and rugged. I feel lost in it.” She lifted her eyes, meeting his azure gaze. “And in some respects I feel like a child around you because I know so little about hiking and camping. My reaction last night totally frightened me.” She managed a broken smile. “There are no snakes in San Francisco.”

Dan grinned. “It’s a good thing, lady, or you’d be in my arms every night as a consequence. Not that that’s a bad idea.... I rather enjoyed it myself. Do you realize you snore?”

Libby straightened up. “What?”

He laughed. “I’m only teasing. You’re a soft, warm kitten, Lib. Come on, quit looking so devastated and vulnerable. Let’s pack and get going—we’ve got some tough climbing to do today.”

She considered his candid words as she gathered up her things. They sent a shaft of pleasure through her and she found herself smiling. She was determined to be a better hiker that day. If she wanted Dan’s cooperation on this project, she would have to extend herself and earn his respect. It would be the only way that she could effectively deal with him and make the project a success for everyone involved.

They worked their way down through a narrow valley filled with knee-high grass and flowers, moving up toward the timberline into a vast rocky region. Sweat was trickling freely down her temples when Dan called a halt at noon. The sun was hot, the wind brisk and the sky an intense cerulean blue, matching the color of Dan’s eyes. Libby took the red bandana off her forehead, wiping her face and neck, her gaze sweeping across the ridgeline towering above them. A smile pulled at her lips and she rested her hands against her hips, feeling the exhilaration of challenging the mountain.

The wind playfully blew strands of her golden hair against her face and she pulled them away. Dan stood above her, watching her with renewed intensity. He motioned toward the incline.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you’re excited about climbing this mountain.”

She laughed, meeting his curious expression. “You’re right, I am.” Shrugging, she admitted, “Right now I feel like I’m on top of the world and can conquer anything. Does that sound like a typical tenderfoot statement?”

Dan returned her smile, leaning over and capturing her hand. “Come on, lady, let’s use the shade of this poor old spruce over here and eat lunch before we go on.”

A new excitement surged within her as she ate the trail mix in silence. Libby was beginning to understand Dan’s love for the mountains and the forest that spread out below them like a velvet green cape. It was her third day and she realized that her body was adjusting beautifully to the high altitude and responding to the demanding exercise. Looking at her arms, she realized that she had become tan. Her fingernails, once long, had been broken or chipped. Digging in her pack, she decided to cut all the rest and get it over with.