Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (34 page)

“Is it too hot, lass?”

The sound of the words, the strong vibration of his deep voice against her, reassured her. She could feel his breath on the top of her head fanning the tendrils of her hair.

She shook her head. “No . . .”

“Ye needn’t fear. I’ll not let ye drop.”

“I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid when you’re with me, Gavin. I love you,” she murmured drowsily, unaware she had said the words. His body’s strength was massive, protective, all that was certain and secure in her life. She wanted to stay in his arms forever. She dozed off again.

Gavin stood still for a long moment holding the precious burden in his arms. Her cheek was pressed to his shoulder, the palm of her hand lay flat against his naked chest, long braids of shiny black hair floated on the water. A wild unreasonable emotion between agony and elation took possession of him. It was like being caught in a whirlwind. For an instant he thought about running away to some remote spot in the mountains where he could have this soft, sweet woman all to himself. Years of frustration and pain weighed on his shoulders. Surely she knew how much he ached to love her!

Emotion and reason fought for dominance while he stood there. The lass was out of her head and thought he was another man. But had she not said his name? Gavin shook his shaggy head, unable to believe she meant the words for him.

He waded deeper into the pool until the water came up to his waist. Then he slipped his arm from beneath her knees and lowered her until her feet rested on the tops of his and she was immersed in the warm water to her shoulder blades. He held her upright against him with one arm wrapped about her waist and worked the muscles of her back and buttocks with his free hand. In her drowsy state Eleanor could feel the flow of water and the slow, almost caressing movements of Gavin’s hands massaging her tired body, carrying away the last vestige of her pain. She contemplated this blessing briefly, then confident he could take care of her, she fell entirely asleep with her cheek against his chest, lost to all sensation.

When Eleanor awoke, she was lying on a bed of spruce boughs beside the pool and covered with a blanket. She was stiff and sore but hardly more than pleasantly so. Gavin sat at her feet, his head resting on the bent arm supported by his drawn-up knees. The moonlight shone on the white skin of his broad back and massive shoulders. She looked at him for a long time before she spoke.

“Gavin?”

He lifted his head quickly when she said his name, leaned toward her and peered into her face.

“Ye be awake? How do ye feel, lass?”

“Better. Much better. I can move without all that pain. I just barely remember being in the pool. Oh, it felt so good!”

“Aye. The heat takes the cramps away.”

“Is it morning?”

“Twill be in a few hours.”

“You haven’t slept?”

“I dozed a time or two,” he said, not wanting her to know that he had sat beside her for hours, his eyes on her face. He could not bear to waste a moment of the time alone with her.

“Come lie down.”

“Nay. I thought to put ye in the pool again—”

“I don’t need to go in the pool again, Gavin. Come lie down.”

“Lassie—I canna. Me britches be dryin’ yon on the warm stones.”

Eleanor giggled. “Wrap my skirt around you. Oh . . . mercy me!” She suddenly realized she was naked beneath the blanket. “Where are my clothes?”

“Yer shift be dryin’, too. Twas dark then. Ye needn’t fear ye was naked to me eyes.”

“I’m not worried about that. Come lie down on the top of the blanket. I know you’re tired, you carried me up that steep hill.”

“Yet weight twas nothin’—”

In the light of the moon she saw him looking at her but was unable to read his expression.

“Please, Gavin. Just for a little while.”

Slowly he moved up on the bed of boughs, and she saw that he did have her dark skirt wrapped around his lower body. He eased himself down on top of the blanket that covered her, leaving a foot of space between them. He lay on his back, looking up at the stars, his profile sharply etched in the moonlight. A flood of tenderness for this big, rough man washed over her. She wanted to pull his shaggy head to her breast, hold him, comfort him, wipe away the lines of loneliness from his face. They were two of a kind, she and Gavin McCourtney; each traveling a lonely trail through life.

“Gavin? May I lay my head on your arm?” Her whispered request was merely a breath, but it reached him. He rolled his head to look at her.

“Lass . . . it wouldna be proper.”

“Who would know?” She inched closer to him.

“I would be knowin’.”

“Let me be close to you for a little while.” She lifted his arm up over her head and snuggled against his side, her shoulder beneath his armpit, her head in the hollow of his shoulder. “I get lonely and scared sometimes, but not when I’m with you.”

“Rain be a good mon. He’ll see ye through to Belle Point.”

“I don’t mean that.” She tilted her face so she could look up at his. He was once again looking at the stars. “Talk to me. This may be our last chance to be alone together. I want to know what you think, what your dreams are.” Her hand slid back and forth across his chest, her fingers curling in the silky hair that covered his nipples.

“A mon like I be dreams only of a tankard of ale ’n a full belly, lass.”

“I don’t believe that. I think you want a home, a wife and children. Amy said you’d be a good husband and father.”

“Why would she say a thin’ like that? I been on the river half me life.” His arm had unconsciously drawn her closer to his side and his hand now rested on the side of her hip.

“Do you like living on the river?”

“Tis all I know, lassie.”

“What about your folks?”

“Gone so long I canna recall their faces.”

“Do you remember what I told you about a big plantation in Carolina? It was all lies,” she admitted softly. “Aunt Gilda made up the story. She told it to everyone so they would think we were quality folk. But the truth is my father was a scoundrel. My aunt used to say he could talk a bird right out of a tree. The two of them bilked people out of money. That’s how we lived. My mother was ashamed, but she loved my father even when he brought other women to the house to sleep with him. She died, then he died, then Aunt Gilda. So . . . I’m nothing I pretended to be.”

Her voice was so sad that Gavin turned his face and his lips brushed her forehead.

“Ahh . . . ye be what ye are—a fine lass. It has naught to do with what yer pa or ma was.”

“Will Bradford thinks I’m somebody. He’s distant kin on my mother’s side. Aunt Gilda led him to believe the family still had a high social standing.”

“It willna matter to the mon when he sees ye.”

Her hand was moving back and forth across his chest, sending shock waves through his body and causing his flesh to quiver. He captured it with his own to still it.

“I hope he’s gone when we get there.”

“Nay . . . ye canna be hopin’ that. Rain would have to be takin’ ye on to him.”

“At Kaskaskia, I thought to go to New Orleans and make my own way.”

“Twas a foolish thought,” he chided gently. “Ye be needin’ a mon to care for ye.”

“A woman doesn’t have much say about her life. I know now that I have to go on to Belle Point. It’s like I’m caught in a trap.”

“Nay. The mon will be good to ye. Rain says he be a fine mon.”

“But I don’t love him.”

“Tis said that few love when they wed, lass.”

“The ones that do are lucky.” Eleanor’s hand slid from beneath his. It inched up his neck to his cheek and gently turned his face toward hers. “Will you kiss me once as if you loved me and we were going to wed?”

“Nay, lassie . . . I canna do it. Ye be promised to a good mon—”

“Please, Gavin. We’ll not be taking anything from Will Bradford. He doesn’t love me. He feels obligated to take care of me because I’m distant family. The only way he can do it is by marrying me.”

“Ah . . . sweet lassie. The mon’d be a fool not to love ye.”

“Would you have loved me if I wasn’t promised?”

“I wouldna dare. Ye be far above me. I’ve nothin’ to offer a lass like ye be.”

“You’ve got yourself. You’re kind, you’re brave, you have good thoughts. You see much more than I see. I’ve been thinking about what you said to me the day we left Quill’s Station. You said to look at the world around me and to be glad I was in it. I’d never thought about it before.”

They were silent for a long while. Finally she said, “I think I love you.” He was quiet for so long she thought he had gone to sleep. She raised her head and looked at him. “Did you hear me, Gavin? I think I love you.”

“Ye dinna know what ye be sayin’. Ye’ll change yer mind when ye get to Belle Point ’n see the fine officer who wants to wed ye. There ye can stand back, draw a breath, not dependin’ on me. There ye’ll see me as I be.”

“I’ll see a man who is as honorable as any I’ve ever met. I’ll see a brave man who risked his life because of my foolishness. I’ll see a man who looked at me and saw the real me behind my face and I’ll see the only man I could give myself to . . . wholly, if he wanted me.”

“Nora! Ah, Nora lass, ye be temptin’ me to betray the trust the mon put on me. Tis true I ache for ye, but—”

Eleanor raised up and leaned over him. Her hands caressed his cheeks, her breath warm on his lips.

“I’ll not ask you to betray your friend’s trust and kiss me. I’ll kiss you. Let me. Please let me.” She could feel his great body tremble as her lips slid over his chin to his.

Gavin could feel small firm breasts, warm clinging hands . . . the intimacy of that contact sent waves of shock reverberating through him. As if compelled by forces stronger than he, his arms tightened into a steely band around her, holding her with such force she could scarcely breathe. Her mouth, open and sweet, settled on his, sending a swift, mysterious liquid fire to his very center. His body throbbed and quickened with that almost painful burning. Her mouth was as sweet as honey, her touch as soft as cotton. Her lips moved gently, softly over his like the wings of a butterfly. Oh, God! How he wanted to lean over her, deepen the kiss, explore the sweetness of her mouth. But he could not! He closed his eyes tightly and stayed perfectly still. A groan escaped him when she made little smacking movements with her lips and then lifted them. Her face hovered over his, her eyelashes scraping his cheek.

“Your lips are . . . soft, not hard like I thought they would be. Your whiskers are soft too.” She rubbed her palms against his cheeks. “Did you know I’ve not kissed a man before? Isn’t that strange considering I was the lure for Aunt Gilda’s card games? Lots of men tried, but I couldn’t bear for them to touch me. Aunt Gilda was afraid I’d lose my virginity and miss the chance to get a rich husband who would take care of her.” She looked into his eyes. “Did you like it?” He stared up at her as if in a daze. When he didn’t answer, she drew back. “You didn’t like it—”

As if in a panic, he clasped her to him. He held her so close she could feel the hard bones and muscles of his body through the blanket, thrusting against the softness of hers. His hoarse, ragged breathing accompanied the thunder of his heartbeat. The first gentle touch of her lips had shaken him like a leaf in a mighty gale, and it was difficult for him to utter a word.

“Nora . . . me darlin’ girl,” he whispered beseechingly. He was trembling. She looked down into his eyes and saw moisture there. It touched her unbearably. The age-old maternal urge to comfort him came over her. She wrapped her arms about him and moved her leg up over his to warm him. Her knee innocently nudged at his hard maleness, causing him to shy away from her. Gently but firmly he moved her leg away.

“Darling Gavin! Sweet, darling Gavin—I’m sorry.”

“Tis na yer fault,” he croaked.

“I didn’t know you’d want me . . . that way.” The realization filled her with an almost unbearable tenderness.

Gavin was beginning to smile now, a tentative, shaky smile that tugged at her emotions as strongly as his embrace. She kissed the corner of his smile, then lay down with her head on his shoulder and stared up at the sky dotted with millions of stars.

“I’ve wondered what it would be like to be with a man, make babies with him,” she murmured. “Aunt Gilda said it was an unpleasant duty a woman had to endure, but I don’t think that’s true if you love the man. Amy was with Rain last night and this morning she looked at him like he was the sun and the stars. I wish I was going to be with you like that, Gavin.”

“Shh . . . ye shouldna be sayin’ such things.”

“Don’t shush me. I feel like I can tell you all my thoughts.”

“It’s best ye be sayin’ none such as that, lass,” he said gruffly.

“Call me Nora. Only you have called me Nora.”

“The birds are stirrin’. It’ll soon be morn.”

“I wish we could stay here forever,” she said wistfully.

“So do I, Nora girl.”

Eighteen

They started out at first light. Rain led them through a winding maze of ravines and across a series of sharp ridges. They crossed a deep, swift creek with high banks and followed a dim trail through the trees a few yards from its bank.

Eleanor had dreaded the time Gavin would lift her to sit in the saddle. When he had done so, she smiled in surprise. The pain had not been as severe as she had thought it would be.

Shortly after they had stopped for the noon meal, they came out onto a wagon track and Rain increased the pace. At one point they smelled the faint odor of wood smoke in the air, but it gradually diminished as they passed a homestead set high on a clearing.

Rain was riding ahead. In the middle of the afternoon he turned back, his worried manner indicating that something was wrong.

“Men up ahead on horseback. They’re just sitting there, waiting.”

“Indians?” Amy backed her horse so Gavin could come closer.

“No. They look to be a bunch of river rats. They’re on horseback, but without saddles, which indicates they’ve stolen the horses.”

“How many?” Gavin asked.

“Five that I saw. They didn’t see me.”

“Could be they’ll move on,” Gavin said hopefully.