White Dawn (16 page)

He sighed. “You can’t cage one of nature’s wild creatures. You were right to free him.”

“What about Fang?” It still amazed her that he had a pet wolf.

He shifted then stretched his leg out, massaging his thigh. “Found Fang when he was just a pup. Couldn’t save the leg and couldn’t destroy him. He survived. It’s his choice to stay. He’s free to go anytime he wants.”

Emily heard the affection in his voice. “You’d miss him, though,” she said. The wolf had become John’s friend; she recognized that.

He met her gaze. “Yeah. I’d miss him. Sometimes it gets lonely out here, but I never feel alone when he’s with me.”

Emily thought about the loneliness she’d sensed in him when John had first found her. “Why do you do this? Why stay here? I’m not sure I could stand to live out here alone and go months with no one to talk to—and that’s aside from the fact that there’s no town close by to get fresh supplies. What
is
out there?” Emily shivered. “Besides Indians.” Sometimes she couldn’t wait to leave, to return to civilization and safety. The sheer vastness of the land intimidated her as much as it fascinated her.

John chuckled and pulled lightly on the single braid hanging down her back. He held out his hand, encompassing everything before them. “This is the ultimate challenge: living alongside Mother Nature. And surviving to tell of it.”

“I should have known,” Emily retorted wryly. “Man’s need to rule.”

“Yes and no. We think we’ve conquered her with our large cities, but one storm or fire can destroy those. Out here there’s no question—
she’s
in charge. It’s not about trying to rule. If I’m to survive, I have to learn to live
with
Mother Nature, not rule her or live in spite of her.” He leaned back on his elbow. “A man learns real fast that he has to respect everything: the seasons, the wildlife and the ground he walks on—else he bears the consequences.”

Emily wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees. “You mean he’ll die.” She still recalled her fright and fear of dying when she’d been cornered by the wolves. Nature had nearly won that night.

“Exactly. And death isn’t always clean and fast. The worst hell I can imagine is to die slowly, alone.” He rolled a pebble between his thumb and forefinger. “But that comes from being careless. A fire not properly doused will destroy and chase away the animals I trap. No furs. No pay. Storms can destroy our supplies. Some men come out here thinking to get rich. They don’t have any idea what it takes to survive. Those not prepared get sick. Most don’t make it back to get treated. And misjudging animals—I’ve seen men who went up against bears and come away minus arms. Or worse.”

He paused. “Carelessness with an ax can cause a man to bleed to death.”

Emily shivered. John had come so close to dying. But he hadn’t been alone—this time. She shook off the memory of the attack. “If it’s so bad, why stay?”

“Well, Sunshine, this is a life of contradictions. Life and death. Joy and sorrow. Hatred and love. The beauty of spring, the harshness of winter. It’s real out here. Everything is raw. And there’s no greater thrill than to survive and live as one with a force greater than yourself.”

He paused and lifted his fingers to her braid, rubbing the soft bit at the end. “The rewards make it all worthwhile. Sometimes a man finds rare beauty when he’s given up all hope.” He glanced up into her eyes.

The breath left her lungs as John’s gaze captured hers. Some emotion she feared to name crackled between them. She tried to ignore it, told herself that nothing could come of it. This man lived here, in the very wilderness that had claimed her parents. Yet she, too, had begun to see the beauty of life out here—despite the hardships. Contradictions. She mused over that. She craved freedom, yet wanted safety. She desired peace, yet had to disturb the past, find the answers surrounding her birth. She had to know if her father had known of her, had to know if he had wanted her—despite the pain the knowledge might bring.

Sitting here, safe and protected, she felt it was impossible to have it all. In order to get the answers she needed, she had to leave—which meant leaving John. Yet he had become such a crucial part of her happiness.

Suddenly nothing else mattered. For one moment, she wanted to pretend that there was only her and him. Them. She felt drawn into John Cartier’s warm protection. Like an unsuspecting insect trapped by molasses, she’d been snared.

John reached up and caressed her cheek. The pad of his thumb grazed the corner of her mouth, his touch light as a cloud of dandelions.

“Emily—”

“John—”

They both spoke at once. John lifted himself up, his hand sliding around to cup the back of her neck. He drew her to him. Emily dipped her head. Their lips met in a tentative kiss.

Drawing Emily close, John savored the sweet taste of her. He hadn’t kissed her since he’d been delirious, but recently it was all he thought about, dreamed about.

Her breath mingled with his and sent hot waves of desire coursing through his veins. Blood pounded in his brain, his heart and his loins when her lips moved with his in a union as sweet and light as a summer breeze.
Go slow. Just one sweet, little kiss.
That was all. But he couldn’t stop. One taste made him crave more. He needed Emily as much as he needed the sun. Maybe more. His lips slanted over hers, still gentle in their explorations.

She twined her arms around his neck and slid her fingers through his hair, pulling off the leather tie, freeing the long, dark strands. Twisting his body, he reversed their positions, lowering her to the soft bank. He broke off their kiss and stared down at her.

Her eyes mirrored the intense need he felt. Her lips parted, her eyes silently begging for him to resume the kiss. Her fingers trailed up the sides of his face, stroking, touching, learning him.

With the speed of a summer storm, passion erupted. He crushed his mouth to hers. Their tongues met, his plunging into her mouth, tasting and stroking. He groaned.
Heaven.
This was heaven. Emily’s kiss was bliss. Sweetness. Nectar from the rarest plant. His fingers tangled in her hair.

Beneath him, her breasts rose and fell with each deeply drawn breath, a soft pillow for his hard chest. Then she took control of the kiss. He retreated, meeting her questing tongue with tiny licks as she tasted him. The tips of their tongues met and twined—first slowly, then in a frenzy of need.

Reeling from the taste and feel of her, John broke away, his body on fire. His mouth blazed a path along Emily’s jaw and down her throat, feeling the jump of her pulse. His own leaped in response. Beneath him she shifted, allowing him to fall into the cradle of her hips. His manhood, hard and throbbing with need, pressed against her. Dots of color danced behind his eyes as he closed them.

He wanted her. He
needed
her. His palm slid down her throat to one round breast. He cupped her through the material of her dress, felt the hard pebble of her nipple and used his palm to stroke it to an even tighter bud. She moaned, pushing closer. Her hips arched, the juncture of her thighs pressing up against him. John felt as though he’d burst into flames.

Beneath him, Emily moaned, her eyes closed, her lips parted. Memories of when he’d found her—her naked body, so made for loving—nearly made him explode. But then he remembered the emptiness in her eyes when she’d offered herself to him. He hadn’t been able to take what she’d been willing to give then—and he couldn’t now.

Passion. They had that between them. But he wanted more—much more. He wanted her trust and love. He wanted all of her, and he knew this moment of bliss didn’t mean she was ready to give it to him.

The thought of stopping made him shiver, his body protesting what his mind had decided. But then he said, “We have to stop, Emily.”

His mouth claimed hers in a final kiss meant to soothe, but it left him aching with need.

Stop?
Emily, her thoughts muddled by passion’s storm, blinked her eyes open. John’s gaze, heavy with desire, met hers. Her gaze shifted to his mouth, his wonderful, full, sensuous lips that left her hungry for more. “No,” she protested, trying to draw him back.

His forehead dropped to rest on hers, his breath feathering across her lips. “I can’t do it, Emily. I can’t use you like this.”

His words chilled her desire. She shoved at his shoulders. “Use me?” Furious and horrified, she stared up at him. “I thought it was more than that! I thought you lo—”

She broke off, humiliated and hurt. Turning her head, she tried to scoot from beneath him. He refused to budge. His strong fingers forced her to meet his gaze. She had to blink rapidly to keep tears from forming.

“That’s the problem, my sweet, desirable Lady Dawn. I
do
love you.”

Confused, she stared into eyes that showed the truth of his words. “You’re not making sense, John.” Confusion replaced some of her hurt.

“I love you, Emily, with all my heart. You are the light of my life. My Lady Dawn. Without you, I’m not whole.” His large hands cupped her face, his fingers trailing into her hair to gently massage her scalp.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “I want this.”

John smiled weakly. “I know, sweetheart. But do you love me, too?” His voice was low, husky with emotion.

“I… I—” Troubled, she lifted her fingers to his rough cheek, scraping their backs against his shadow of stubble. “I don’t know,” she answered, unable to tear her gaze from his.

“
That
is the problem, Sunshine: I want you to be sure. And until you are, I won’t have you thinking that I’m using you. Nor will I allow you to give yourself to me out of gratitude.” John smiled tenderly, and sadly. “There’s more to making love than the mating of bodies. When I join my flesh to yours, I want our minds, hearts and souls to join as well.”

“Do you think I kissed you because I’m grateful?” It troubled her that he might be right. Yet she felt something else. Something that frightened her.

“You’re vulnerable out here. Choices are few. But it won’t necessarily always be that way. I want you to know what you want and why.” He ran a hand over his jaw and around to the back of his neck. “A short time ago you were devastated, ready to die when the man you loved left you. I don’t want to go through that same thing if you leave.”

He sat and drew her up beside him, then pulled her across his lap, his chin resting on the top of her head. Her back was flush with his chest. She felt the wild thumping of his heart; it matched hers.

“Can a person love another without really knowing them, John?” She thought of her Indian savior and how much she’d loved him—how much she’d
thought
she loved him. But compared to what she was beginning to feel for John, she didn’t know what it was she’d felt. Had she truly loved the Indian, or had she just loved the way they’d lived? Or maybe she’d loved him out of simple gratitude.

With John, everything was different. There were no secrets. No walls. He was as open to her as a book. She’d accepted him willingly, but he was right: this was his world—much the same as roaming the wilds had been the life suited to her golden Apollo. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t here by choice. Only circumstances.

John’s breath teased the tip of her ear as he rubbed her head with his cheek. “I believe there are many kinds of love, Sunshine. Some deeper, more lasting than others. Yet when things aren’t meant to be—when loves don’t work out—that doesn’t mean what you felt wasn’t real. And the pain of it ending is still there.”

Knitting her brows together, Emily took John’s other hand into hers. “I did love him and the freedom he gave me. But I didn’t know him. And he didn’t really know me. We were lovers but not friends.” She tipped her head back, resting it in the cradle of his neck, her temple brushing his jaw. “But I feel like I’ve known you all my life.”

John bent his head and brushed his lips across hers. “I’ve waited for you for a long time, Sunshine. I won’t lie and say I don’t want to become your lover right now. But more than anything, I want you to be sure of your heart. When the time is right—if it’s right—you’ll know. For now, we’ll stick to being friends.”

Some part of her felt relieved. She realized he was right: she wasn’t ready to commit herself into John’s hands. Before she allowed the urges of her body to rule, she needed to know and understand her heart and mind. It was only fair to him—and to herself.

Yet there was something about John that made her want to toss caution to the wind and take what his eyes, his touch and his kiss promised. Reason, caution and desire all warred with each other, and finally she ran the tip of her finger across his lips. “Good friends?”

“The very best.” He nipped the tip of her finger.

Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Can friends kiss?”

“Absolutely.” John lowered his head and kissed her. After the brief touch of their lips, his finger stroked the moist fullness of her mouth. Though the kiss had been gentle, the smoldering heat in his eyes was anything but.

John undid her braid and ran his fingers through her hair. Then he wrapped his arms around her. Emily relaxed. “What’s your happiest childhood memory, John?”

“Happiest? Well, that’s kinda hard. But Sundays were fun.”

Emily’s breath caught. Sundays had been pure hell for her. She found herself desperately wanting to hear that, for some, the Sabbath had some sort of meaning. Tell me.”

“Well, we had to attend church. Ma insisted. But after that, Pa and I would go fishing. We knew this one spot.” He laughed softly. “Unfortunately, everyone else knew about it so we didn’t always catch anything. But it never seemed to matter. I ran and played with my friends while my Pa talked with the other men or napped in the shade.”

“That sounds fun,” Emily said wistfully. Though she regretted much of her childhood, she loved listening to stories of his. Loved the way his deep baritone vibrated through her as he spoke.

“Yeah. It
was
fun. After, we’d trudge home and Ma would have a big fancy Sunday supper ready. Or sometimes she’d surprise us by bringing a picnic supper to the pond.