Last Bridge Home (14 page)

“P
UT YOUR FEET ON A PADDLE FIRST, AND THEN
as the wheel goes down, grab another paddle with your hands and hold on for dear life.” She scooted to the edge of the windowsill. “You have to hop a little to mount the wheel.”

“Your expertise in this area is truly amazing.”

“I grew up in this house. Do you think that as a child I could have resisted the temptation to play on a real oak paddle wheel? Every summer I would—” She jumped and landed on a paddle, immediately grabbing onto another, which was at eye level. The wood was wet and slippery beneath her palms. “Hurry,” she whispered.

The paddle creaked beneath her weight but
held Arm. She felt the wheel jerk as Jon landed on a paddle somewhere above her.

The wind cut through the bulky wool of her thigh-length sweater. Gold. So cold. But not as cold as it was going to be. The still waters of the stream were just below her, coming closer every second as the wheel slowly rotated.

Finally the paddle she was riding entered the water.

She inhaled sharply as the icy water took her breath away and sent stabbing icicles of shock through her veins. She released the paddle and started to swim as quietly as she could away from the cottage. Her every movement was labored, as she forced her numbed arms to cleave through the water.

“All right?” Jon whispered. He was beside her now.

“Yes.” Her answer was slurred. “But I think we’d better get out of the water as soon as we can. It’s dangerous to be immersed in temperatures this cold for too long. Do you think we’re out of sight? I wanted to get to the woods but…”

“Hush. Don’t try to talk.” His arm was around her waist as he headed for the bank. “Lean on me. I’ll have you out of this water in a minute.”

His movements were strong as he swam easily through the water. The cold didn’t seem to
be affecting him at all, she thought hazily. How could that be? He should be feeling the extremely low temperature of the water more acutely than she. He had said his country was warmer…

He released her, hoisted himself up on the bank, and then pulled her up alongside him.

Her teeth were chattering uncontrollably as she tried to wring some of the water from the bottom of her sweater. Her gaze flew to the cottage. It was so close. Too close. They were barely halfway across the meadow. She shrugged out from under Jon’s arm and jumped to her feet. “We’ve got to get to the woods. I know a place. We’re too close here. They’ll be breaking into the cottage any minute.”

“Beth, you can’t go on. The cold—” His tone was thick with self-disgust. “Lord, I’m stupid. I thought I saw a way to clear my path and forgot you weren’t…”

She wasn’t listening. She was running across the snow-covered meadow toward the woods.

Twigs and stones lying under the blanket of snow tore at her sodden socks, but at least she could feel the blood pumping through her veins again. If only the wind would stop plastering her damp clothes to her body, she might even feel warm. Where was Jon? she wondered. They mustn’t catch him. It would be
worse for him to be captured than for her. “Jon.” She looked over her shoulder. He was right behind her, she realized with relief. “Are you okay?”

“Am I—” He drew a deep breath. “I’m fine. Where the hell is the haven you’re taking me to? I hope it’s warm.”

“Are you very cold? You said you were from a desert country.” Desert country, she repeated to herself. It sounded wonderful. The sun’s hot rays baking the cold from her bones. “I don’t think it will be very warm, but they won’t be able to find us. At least, not until morning. There’s a cave in the wall of the bluff where I used to play when I was a child. I fixed it all up. I’m looking forward to showing it to Andrew. It’s right here.” She leaned against the lichen-covered stone of the bluff, trying to catch her breath. “Will you roll the boulder away from the entrance? I can’t seem to stop shivering.” It was more than shivering, she was shuddering violently. “I don’t know why I’m reacting this way. I’m much warmer now.”

“Are you?” Jon’s expression was grim as he rolled aside the heavy boulder. “Stay here for just a minute while I check your hideaway for foreign invaders.”

“According to Bardot, you should feel right at home with them.”

“Is there a flashlight inside?”

She shook her head. “No, but there’s an oil lantern and a box of matches to the left of the entrance.”

He was gone only a few minutes, and when he came back he was carrying the lantern. “Gome inside. Your provisions don’t seem to include anything to make a fire.”

“I only came here during the summer. In the winter it was too cold. I think there are two patchwork quilts.” She glanced around. “Yes, there they are. My mother helped me make the one that has the little girls wearing sunbonnets on it. I was only eight years old, and she said she was very proud of me.”

“It’s a beautiful quilt. Any mother would be proud,” Jon said gently. “Now stay here while I roll the stone back into place. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She watched him as he grappled with the enormous stone. The muscles of his back and shoulders rippled beneath the wet clinging material of his red plaid shirt. When the boulder was in place, he turned to face her.

“You’re very wet. I’m sorry there’s no fire wood.” She reached up to brush a wet lock of hair away from her cheek. “We could try to find some outside, but it would probably be useless. The snow … I hate winter. Did I tell you that?”

“Yes.” He spread one of the quilts on the ground. “Gome here, Beth.”

“Are we going to try to sleep?” She came toward him as obediently as a small child.

“Yes.” He pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it on the ground. “But first we’re going to get you warm.”

“I’m warm now. I don’t know why I’m shaking like this.”

“I do. A deadly little malady called hypo thermia.” His voice was suddenly savage. “And it’s my fault, dammit. I should never have let you jump into that water. I could have …” The breath he drew sounded like a harsh rasp. “Look Beth, I have to get you warm. If I don’t, you could go into shock and die. I know you said you couldn’t trust me, but you don’t have any choice.” He unbuttoned her blouse and unfastened her bra.

“You’ve done this before. You’re always un dressing me.”

“It appears that way, doesn’t it? I’m glad it amuses you. I hope you still think it’s funny when you’re back to normal.” He took off her wet jeans, panties, and socks.

“It doesn’t seem logical to strip a person naked to get them warm.”

Jon undressed, too, and joined her on the quilt. “It’s very logical. We’ll share body heat.” He pulled the second quilt over both of them.
“But that’s not going to be enough. It’s very cold here and you’re already suffering from exposure. You’ll have to let me help you. You mustn’t fight me, Beth.”

“Of course, it wouldn’t be sensible to object when someone is trying to save you from freezing to death.”

“Stop laughing.” Jon’s tone was serious. “This is important for you to understand. I can help your body make the adjustments it needs. The human anatomy is a wonderful defensive organism, but sometimes it needs to be told what to do.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands and held her gaze with his own.

What wonderful eyes he had, she thought dreamily. Dark and brilliant and glowing with kinetic force.

“I will never trespass, nor invade your privacy but I
must
do this.” His naked flesh was warm against her own and the heat he was emitting surrounded her. “Now I’m going to talk to you, and I want you to listen very carefully. Will you do that for me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He smiled. “Because soon you’re going to be warm, as warm as I am, and your body is going to work very hard to keep you warm all through the night.” His lips touched her forehead in a gossamer-light caress, as he spun a web of golden tenderness around her.
“Close your eyes and relax.” He drew her closer so that her cheek nestled in the hollow of his shoulder. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll see that you don’t go to sleep until it’s safe for you. Just listen to me.”

Later, she wouldn’t be able to remember the words he’d spoken. The sound of his voice flowed over her, around her, lighting torches of warmth and understanding where none had been lit before. Painting pictures of sunlit meadows overflowing with flowers of exquisite beauty, beauty veiled in warm mists and the songs of summer. Everywhere she passed, the torches flamed with indescribable splendor and reached into every part of her, Ailing her with a rapture so intense she didn’t think she could bear it. She wasn’t aware when the shivering stopped or when the numbness was re placed by genuine warmth.

His voice vibrated beneath her ear and the sensation was soothing. No, he’d stopped speaking, she realized, but she could still hear him. How very curious. Oh, there was nothing to worry about, she told herself. Jon said she shouldn’t worry. He was taking care of every thing. She would just lie here and let his voice ignite the torches within her.

“Beth.” She felt a strong vibration beneath her ear. “You can go to sleep now.”

The golden webbing that had enveloped her
was gone, and so was the disorientation she’d experienced earlier. She felt a pang of wild regret. Loneliness. She had never known such loneliness. “Jon …”

His lips were on her temple. “I know.”

He did know. She could still feel his empathy and understanding. “The torches.” Her voice was slurred as drowsiness claimed her. So beautiful. “Gome back.”

“I can’t, love.”

“Please.” The word was spoken as a mere breath of a sound.

“Someday.”

It was a promise, and Jon always kept his promises. She had discovered that fact about him, as well as many other wonderful things, during the past hour.

“Someday,” she echoed as she nestled her cheek against his hard shoulder. But there was something nagging at her, something she couldn’t remember. It was something about the way Jon had looked at her before he had begun to light the torches. “The baby.”

“What?”

She didn’t open her eyes. “The night An drew was born. What was in the milk?”

He gently stroked her hair back from one temple. “Nothing.”

She had guessed what his answer was going
to be. “Then you shouldn’t have made me drink it. I
hate
warm milk.”

“I didn’t think you were ready to accept my help without a placebo.”

“I don’t know, maybe you were right.” She was far too drowsy to talk any longer. She just wanted to drift away on the wings of sleep, now that there were no more lovely, radiant torches to be lit….

She still felt warm when she opened her eyes the next morning. The cave was almost in total darkness, and the only sign of dawn was a thin wavering line of gray around the boulder hiding the entrance. Her naked breasts were pressed against Jon’s warm, solid chest, and with every breath he drew she could feel the thatch of springy hair which covered his upper torso rub against her. Was it pain, or the fiery tingle of desire that caused her nipples to distend as if in yearning invitation? She edged away in confusion. The tempo of his breathing altered and she realized he was awake.

“Beth?”

“Do you think we should leave? It must be dawn.” Her voice was breathless.

“Yes.”

She laughed shakily. “Yes, it must be dawn, or yes, we should try to leave?”

“Did I sound confused? I’m afraid my reasoning processes aren’t working too well at the moment.”

Elizabeth’s mental capabilities weren’t in any better shape than Jon’s. She couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything but the heat flowing from his naked body to hers. She felt if she reached out and touched him, she would burn her hand. The rhythm of his breathing changed, harshened. She was having trouble breathing at all. “Do you think they’re still out there?”

“I have no idea, and at the moment I could care less. Beth …” He reached out and suddenly the blanket was around her waist. “Beth, I’m hurting. I think you are too. Let me love you.” His fingers touched her breasts, and she inhaled sharply. “Poor love, so full, so beautiful. I wish I could see you.” His palms gently held her breasts. “Let me help you, taste you. Let me come into you. Let me take what you need to give. I’ll show you pleasures you never dreamed existed. There are ways I—”

“Torches.” She didn’t even know she had uttered the word until she felt him stiffen against her.

His hands fell away from her breasts. His breathing was heavy and labored. “No!” He
rolled away from her and curled up into a fetal position. She could feel his pain and desire and frustration as a living force in the dark ness. “No torches, dammit. Get your clothes on.”

“What?” She was jarred from her sensual haze as if she’d once again been plunged into the icy waters of the stream.

He spoke rapidly, not looking at her. “I hung our clothes on the boulder by the opening. I figured the wind might dry them. They’re probably a little damp but—”

“
Why
, Jon?”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. “Because it’s not fair. Because what you’re feeling now could be a hangover from what I did to you last night.”

“You did nothing to me, only for me. It was telepathy, wasn’t it?”