White Dawn (24 page)

He cuddled her close, and she realized he needed the same thing. They set off.

They didn’t talk while they rode—or if they did it was about the land. Impersonal things that wouldn’t destroy the fragile bond of love between them. Later, the words would have to be spoken that would break that bond. Not now.

She dozed on and off, tired from lack of sleep. When John came to a sudden halt, she woke with a start. “Are we stopping?”

Behind her she felt the hard wall of his chest tense, warning that something was wrong. Her heart hammered when she saw two rough-looking men leaving the concealing stand of trees near the river. One held a shotgun pointed at them, the other a pistol. They looked like trappers, but were obviously on the wrong side of the law.

“Well, lookee here. Mighty fine woman you have there.” The speaker urged his horse closer.

John remained silent, his hold on Emily tight. He didn’t dare go for his own gun, though Emily was able to reach down and unsnap the scabbard. “What do you want?” his voice at last boomed out.

The two men didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. “Well, now. Interestin’ question.” The speaker, obviously the leader, chuckled. His friend looked shifty.

“Looks like someone beat us to tha reward, Slick.”

Slick laughed. “He ain’t delivered her yet, Nat,” he said to his friend. Then, “We’ll jest take the woman,” he called out to John.

“The woman’s mine,” John called back. His arms tightened around her.

“Don’t think so, pal. We’s gonna get the reward fer findin’ the girl.”

“What reward, and from who?” Emily asked.

The two men eyed each other. Slick looked pleased. “Seems some folk at the mission near here posted a nice, fat reward fer yer return.”

“You can have the money,” John proposed.

Slick rode up closer and leered at Emily. “Mebbe I wants somethin’ else more than the money. This here’s one fine-lookin’ lady.” His gaze roamed down over her. “Real fine-lookin’.”

Slick’s pal rode up next to him. “Hey, Slick. What about
him?
”

Lifting his rifle, Slick grinned. “Dead men don’t tell no tales.”

“Yeah, but if we wants the money… If she says anything, then we won’t get nothin’.”

Slick gave an evil smile. “Don’t you worry none. The reward is for information—whether the girl is dead or alive.” He licked his lips and looked at Emily. “Seems yer father jest wants to know what happened ta ya. Now, how ’bout it, lady. You get on down.”

Emily cringed. Behind her, John nuzzled her hair, hiding his mouth so he could reassure her. “Stay calm.” He slid off the horse and pulled her down be hind him.

“Ah, come on, pal. Don’t think to hog the lady all to yourself.” Slick had also dismounted. He motioned for John to move away.

Before John could do so, Emily reached down and grabbed his knife from the sheath dangling on his belt. He started when he felt the movement, and turned slightly to hide her actions. She wrapped it in the folds of her dress, using her hand to bunch her skirts enough to hide it.

Not having seen, Slick motioned for her to move toward him. She did. He reached out and grabbed her free arm. His lips brushed the tip of her ear. “Now, that’s better.”

Staring at John, she saw fury in his eyes.
Oh, God, don’t let him do something stupid like trying to save me,
she prayed, glancing around wildly. What could she do with one knife against two armed men?

Slick nodded at John. “Kill him, Nat.”

“Me? You want me ta do it?” Nat narrowed his eyes. “How ’bout you let me hold the girlie, and you do the killin’?”

“I’m in charge,” Slick ground out. “Now quit arguin’ and kill him.”

Nat lifted his pistol.

“No!” Emily shrieked, horrified that they planned to kill John, then use and kill her, too. Fear for John and her unborn babe fueled her fury. She spun around and slashed at Slick.

Startled by her movements, the outlaw dropped his shotgun in order to grab at her left hand. He tried to wrestle the knife from her.

While Emily was fighting with Slick, she saw John reach down into his boot for the knife he kept there. In one fluid motion, he threw it at Nat. The blade sank into the man’s chest. Then John lunged at Slick, tackling him around the middle. The force knocked Emily clear. Gaining her feet, she grabbed up the man’s shotgun. She aimed it at him. Trouble was, she couldn’t get a clear shot, as John and Slick were wrestling for control of the knife.

The two men rolled, both their hands on the knife. At last, when Slick managed to roll John over and sat straddling him, forcing the knife blade downward, Emily aimed. Her heart hammered. She’d never had to shoot a person before. What if she missed?

She hesitated. In that moment, John flipped Slick over his head. The outlaw landed hard and John leaped atop him. Beneath, Slick moaned. John stood. When he rolled the outlaw over, Emily saw the knife was embedded in his gut. Slick twitched once, then was still.

John glanced at Nat, to be sure he was dead, then came to Emily. “You all right?”

“Yes.” She looked him over, searching for any wounds.

“I’m fine.” He took several deep breaths. “I’m not sure if I want to swing you around and praise you for being so brave, or curse you for scaring the life out of me.”

Emily released her own shaky breath. “Praise sounds a whole lot nicer,” she said, trying to smile in spite of her trembling lips.

“You could have been killed! No way could you have kept him from gaining that knife and using it on you.”

“Good thing I only needed to distract him, then, wasn’t it?” Emily narrowed her eyes and wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt. “Did you truly think I’d just stand there and let them kill you, then me?”

“Didn’t think you could do much to stop it, Sunshine.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

Emily noticed his hands were trembling. “You underestimated me,” she said.

He sighed. “Sure did. Now, if only you could stop underestimating yourself.” Shaking his head, he ran a hand down the side of her face. He looked astonished.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, you obviously know how to take care of yourself. I don’t know where you got that strength, but it’s real. I can’t imagine anyone being able to hurt that babe of yours. I just wish you would have trusted me.”

Emily looked at him in surprise, but he just turned away.

It was midmorning before they were finished burying the two outlaw trappers. They did so in silence. Then Emily went down to the water to wash her hands. As she sat there, she remembered what the trappers had said about a reward offered by her father.

But how could that be? She didn’t know where he was. And he had no idea where she was. She frowned. Had Millicente somehow gotten word to him? According to her mother, the woman had known where to find him. Wasn’t that the reason Emily had wanted to return to the mission?

She went back to John. “Do you suppose it’s true, that my father’s there?”

John wiped sweat from his brow. “I don’t know. Someone offered a reward for your return. If it’s your father, I guess you won’t need me so much.” His voice was bleak.

The thought churned Emily’s stomach. “You won’t have to—”

John laughed without humor, cutting her off. “We should still marry. Your child still needs a name. And, Sunshine, in case you hadn’t thought of it, chances are your child will look like a breed. At least if we marry, you can let people believe what they want about me. If folks know you spent the summer with a savage, you and your child will
never
be accepted. Won’t matter who your father is.”

“Oh, John. I wish—”

“Don’t wish, Sunshine. Find the courage in yourself to see the truth.” With that enigmatic comment, John walked away and fetched the two horses belonging to the trappers. The men had also left two loaded pack mules tied to a tree nearby.

Taking the loaded beasts of burden with them, they resumed their journey. A new tension had sprung up between them. Each covered mile brought them that much closer to the mission and the decision that would await them there. For him, goodbye; for her, hello to a new life.

Emily closed her eyes and let her horse follow John’s as she tried to blot out the confusion raging inside her. There was so much to think about, to worry about—including the prospect of facing her father, the man who’d sired her. Now that the decision as to whether to seek him out had been taken away, she wasn’t sure she was ready to meet him and learn the truth behind her conception. What would it mean to her future?

And uppermost in her mind was John. True to his promise, he’d become her friend—friend, lover and, soon, he could become her husband. And the choice as to whether it would be in name only or forever lay with her.
Do it. And make it for forever,
her heart cried out. Her hand slid down to cup the soft swell of her stomach where new life grew.

The thought of taking his name as her own made her want to burst into tears. She wanted more than his name. She wanted him forever, but was too afraid to take the chance. He’d told her she was strong. Gascon had told her she had spunk. But in this matter, she had none. She had only uncertainty and fear. For the baby, she supposed she’d marry. For her own heart, she’d take his name—so she’d have some part of him with her forever.

But for John’s own good, she’d set him free. She’d not burden him with her and the baby. Better for her and John to hurt now than be destroyed by love gone wrong at a later date.

They reached the edge of Lake Superior late that afternoon. John stopped and dismounted. He led her horse, his and the other four beasts who were tied behind their mounts into the deep cover of forest. “We’ll stay here tonight.”

Emily knew they had several more days of travel ahead of them before they reached the mission. Tired and heartsore, she allowed John to help her down. For a brief moment, they stared at one another, the air fraught with emotion. Then they both pulled back, each trying to put distance between them.

They ate supper in silence. Afterward, Emily went straight to her pallet. Staring down at the bedding, she couldn’t help but think of the night before, when they’d made love long into the night.

Snuggling beneath a blanket, Emily missed having John beside her—badly. She wanted to be lulled to sleep by the soft pulse of John’s heart and the warmth of his breath fanning her skin. She longed for the comforting feel of his arms around her, and she missed his deep, rumbling voice in her ear as they talked in between making love.

Staring up at the star-laden sky, Emily felt absolutely alone. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to live with it. Life without John didn’t seem like life. It was just…existence.

“’Night, Emily.” John’s voice sound hoarse.

Her own throat clogged. “’Night, John.”

She heard him shift. “It doesn’t have to end like this,” he whispered at last into the darkness.

She turned to her side so that she could see him in the glowing embers of the fire. “Better like this than in hate.”

“I could never hate the other half of my heart.” He spoke softly, as if speaking to himself.

Emily squeezed her eyes shut to try to stem her silent tears, but they fell anyway. She wished she dared believe him. She wanted to trust her heart—and that of her child—to him.

But how could she? She better than anyone knew the power of bitterness—and how it could turn love sour. Hearing John roll over, she turned onto her back.

Above, a star fell from the inky heavens. Emily gave in to a childish urge and wished with all her heart that he’d love her forever. But as quickly as the hope grew, it died, fizzling out like the star. Like everyone else in her life, he would abandon her eventually.

For the next four days they followed the shore of the lake, keeping to the cover of the wood on their right to avoid Indians and trappers. John didn’t want a repeat of what had happened before. As an added precaution, he made Emily wear her hair beneath his fur cap and his bulky coat. As the days turned cold, Emily was grateful for the extra warmth.

The roar of waterfalls tempted him to ask her to dally and spend time examining new sights, but he didn’t. They both feared the mounting tension that gathered between them, a force to rival the darkening clouds overhead. The closer to their destination they came, the slower their pace and the stronger the storm of their emotions.

John glanced at Emily, and saw the whiteness of her knuckles and the set of her features. Just by watching her, he knew they were close. His own control felt close to shattering. He wanted to jump down, pull her to him and make love to her until she agreed to be his—not for a few days, but forever.

She met his gaze. Before he could demand she give him a chance, thunder crashed overhead. It was followed by the bursting of the clouds. In seconds, they were drenched. Emily wore his heavy coat, but he was cold.

The ground shook, and the horses shied and tried to bolt. John grabbed the reins to Emily’s horse and rode for a rocky outcropping ahead, forcing their other animals to also follow. Nearing, he saw that the outcropping was actually a waterfall.

Hitching all the horses and mules beneath a nearby cluster of trees, he shouted, “We’ve got to find some shelter.” Grabbing Emily’s hand, he ran toward the rocks. Upon reaching them, John steadied her, keeping her from slipping on the slick ground as he searched for a ledge or cave. A flash of lightning brightened the sky.

“Look!” Emily pointed to the waterfall.

John looked in the direction she indicated. All he saw was water until another flash lit the sky. Then, behind the slow-falling water, he saw rocky walls with a deep recess: a cave for shelter. Autumn had shrunk the falls to a gentle flow. He found a way behind the water, pulling her after him.

“Wait here.” He left and returned a few moments later with their packs. “We’ll keep reasonably dry here,” he said, using his arm to wipe the water from his eyes. “Of course, it might be hard to keep dry when we’re already soaked.” A thread of humor entered his voice. Emily smiled in return, warming him. With the wind whipping around, she’d removed his hat before it could blow away.

“Although I know plenty of ways to keep warm,” he said, his voice husky.

Her hair, plastered to her head, gleamed with every flash. Her eyes, staring up at him, snapped with blue fire. They eyed each other, neither able to move or speak. The ground above them shook as bolts of lightning slammed into the trees outside—but the soft music of the water curtaining them created a magic he couldn’t resist. He reached out and tenderly brushed the hair off her forehead.

The air between them sparked with fire and crackled with pent-up emotion and physical need. “Emily—” He broke off, searching for the words that would bring them back together and give them this day and many more.

“John.”

Suddenly John didn’t want words. He didn’t want to hear her say she had to leave, that no matter what, she couldn’t risk his unhappiness. For him, there was nothing at risk anymore. He’d lost. When they arrived at the mission, he’d lose her forever. He knew it. Felt it.

He pulled her roughly to him. Their lips met in a dazzling kiss that rivaled the forces of nature erupting outside. He tried to gentle his touch, his kiss, but his need overwhelmed him. His love left no room for thought or worries. There was only this. Her. Now.

Emily held on tight as the onslaught of emotions swept her away. Tears trailed down her cheeks as she met John kiss for kiss. As savage as the storm, her needs rose. Heat filled her. She pressed her body to his, urging him closer.

Her head fell back to allow John’s lips and tongue to blaze a trail along her jaw and down her throat. One leg lifted as he tipped her back, giving him full access to the depths of her. Sorrow and pain mixed with her soul-shattering need. How could she let him go? She needed him. Now. Today. Forever. Sobs tore past her lips.

“Tonight, Emily. Give us tonight,” John begged. His lips burned hers.

“Yes,” she said, sobbing. “Yes.”

John’s hands were everywhere: around her, smoothing along her curves, caressing the swells of her breasts. Then she felt cool air on her skin as he lifted her dress away, pulling it up past her knees. He stepped back, his eyes as dark as the sky outside. They glittered with an inner storm of his own as he tortured her with his fingers on her thighs, his hands bunching her dress as they went.

Inch by inch, the material lifted and air caressed her flesh. “Please, John,” she begged at last, wanting to take the dress and yank it over her head.

“Watch me, Emily,” he whispered. His gaze held hers as the dress slid up, leaving her exposed from the waist down. He stopped. Glancing down, he groaned.

Dropping to his knees, he wrapped his hands holding the folds of her skirts behind her, pulling her close to lave the skin of her belly with his tongue.

Something inside her sparked, then caught fire as he inched downward slowly, so slowly that Emily tensed in anticipation and need. Her hands fell to his shoulders as her legs trembled. He stopped at the beginning of the hair over her womanhood. She dug her fingers into his shoulders.

“Please, John.” She was tortured by his closeness, his breath on her.

He glanced up. “Tell me what you want, Emily.” He pushed her against the rocky wall and slid his hands down over her hips.

“You,” she cried, rotating her hips in invitation.

“Tell me,” he repeated, his fingers sliding up the inside of her thighs.

“Touch me. There. Now.” She rolled her head back and forth against the wall, waiting for the magic only he could make.

He touched her: one finger, then two, opened her to him. Cool air brushed against her heated core. She gasped, waited. Then he kissed her with his lips and tongue. Flames licked her sensitive flesh. Her legs shook, and her fingers dug into the wall behind her.

“John!” she screamed, the touch of his slowly stroking tongue a mixture of pleasure and pain.

His touch grew demanding. Suddenly he was insistent, all tenderness gone as need governed both of them. Still he laved her most sensitive places. Passion claimed her not once, but twice before he released her. She sank to the ground, kissing him. Tasting herself, she found that still the fires of need raged within her. While he pulled his shirt over his head, she shoved his breeches down, freeing his manhood.

It stood before her, ready, throbbing.

Begging.

He dragged her down onto the pile of their clothing.

Emily took him in hand, and shoved his chest so that he fell down onto his back. Her tongue glided up the hard length of his swollen shaft, lingering at its soft, moist tip. Beneath her, John bucked and moaned, trying to pull her atop him.

She ignored him, took him into her mouth and loved him the way he’d given her pleasure—with hands and mouth and tongue.

She loved him with all her heart, every inch of him. And she wanted to show him with actions what she didn’t dare say with words ever again. For if she said the words aloud one more time, she’d give in and take what he offered: forever.

“Emily. Enough!” John groaned, pulling her over him. She slowly reclined, easing him into her. As she watched, he stared up at her breasts, the pale globes jutting out proudly before her. His palms each cupped one. Lifting his head, he took one’s tip into his mouth and suckled.

She shivered, felt her body clench tightly around him. She began to rock until he couldn’t stand it. Then, like the storm raging outside, he exploded. Need burst from him. Sitting, he rolled her beneath him, grabbed her hips and lifted her to meet his thrusts. Fast and furious, he pounded into her until at last her cry rose to join his. Their joining was hard, but it was beautiful.

For the rest of that day and night, they stayed in each other’s arms. Made love. Touched. It was as if they were committing to memory the feel of each other.

At last they rested. Emily tried to hold back her despair. Outside, the rain stopped but the dark clouds remained. The sun had already gone from their lives. She felt that John was still awake, holding her, but she drifted into quiet oblivion.

They arrived at the mission around noon of the next day. Neither spoke of the night of passion, for once again, reality had intruded. In the courtyard, Emily stopped to stare at the crude, whitewashed building with the cross outside. Her eyes scanned the area, finding the small house she’d shared with her parents. The place where her world had been turned upside down and her faith in the world shattered.

Her pulse raced, and it was all she could do not to turn and ride away, as fast as she could, from a place that held bitter memories instead of the peace and oneness with God it should have provided.

“Are you all right?” John asked.

No, she wasn’t. But she nodded anyway. Still, her body refused to urge her horse any closer. She wasn’t ready to face Father Richard. Yet he was the one who would know where Millicente was. Or if her father was here. She glanced at John.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” she whispered, feeling frozen in her saddle.

His large hand reached out and covered her shaking ones. “Emily, he can’t hurt you. Not with me around.”

Emily met John’s gaze and saw the fury there. He’d discerned her fears. Knowing that John would like nothing more than to show Father Richard his knuckles—close up—eased some of her tension. He was right. With John here, she had nothing to fear from the priest.

Before she could urge her horse forward, she noticed a man in long robes coming toward them. Unlike Father Richard, this man was short and round and had a bald head that gleamed from the sun. His skin had the look of old leather.

“Welcome,” the man greeted, stopping a few feet away.

“Where is Father Richard?” Emily asked. She breathed a sigh of relief at not having to face the man just yet. Her emotions were too frayed to handle a confrontation as well as the memories of the past that were now bombarding her.

The man of God looked uncomfortable. “He’s no longer here. I’m Father Jacob. Can I be of assistance?”

Emily felt a wave of relief slide through her. The sun had come out from behind the clouds, warning the day. Tendrils of steam rose from the rocks, trees and waterlogged earth.

Removing her hat, she shrugged out of John’s heavy coat. “I’m Emily Ambrose. And this is John Cartier,” she announced.

The priest gasped and stepped closer. His brows drew together as he stared at her, seeing the pale strands of her hair. “Emily…” His eyes filled with tears. “Can it be? Is it really you?” He grabbed the large cross dangling from his neck.

The warm welcome and tears of relief surprised Emily. “Yes, it’s really me. I’ve come back to—”

The priest interrupted her. “Praise be! Child, everyone thinks you dead.”

Closing her eyes briefly, Emily willed her voice to remain strong. “My parents were killed. I survived.” The words came out stark as she struggled to control her emotions. She feared that if she broke down now, she’d start crying and never stop.

“We know, child. Trappers found where you buried them. They were brought here for a proper burial.”

Emily sagged in her saddle. Her parents—her mother!—were here. She glanced from the priest to John. “I want to go see them. Please.” Talking was growing hard. Beside her, John dismounted, then lifted her down. Her knees shook and she nearly fell in her haste to go to her mother’s grave.

“Easy, Sunshine.” His hands remained around her, supporting her.

The priest clapped, and a boy with skin as dark as the earth came running out of nowhere. “Samuel, see to these animals,” he called. The boy, who’d been standing in the background, nodded. “Yes, Father Jacob.” The boy took the horses and mules, but not before staring in awe at Emily, as if she were a ghost.

Emily smiled at him. “Hello, Samuel,” she greeted. The boy’s eyes brightened. He left with their animals, shouting for everyone to come see.

Father Jacob gave Emily a sympathetic look. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather sit and have a cup of coffee or some food before—”

“No. I need to see where my mother is buried.” No one commented on the fact that she didn’t mention her stepfather. Did that mean her real father was here?

Emily followed the priest. When John reached down to take her hand, it seemed natural. Right now she needed his strength. At the mission’s small cemetery, she found her mother’s grave. John laid his coat down for her.

Kneeling, Emily stared at the wooden cross, at her mother’s name and the word
beloved
carved in large letters across it. She traced each letter. Tears streamed down her face. At the base of the cross, she spotted a bunch of wilted wildflowers.

Next to her mother’s grave, a cross bore the name of the man who’d raised her as his own but had never come to accept her. The man who, in the end, had hated her so much he’d left her to die.

Emily’s hand went to her belly, to the soft place where her babe grew. Love warred with hate inside her. She turned back to where her mother was buried. She loved her mother, missed her terribly. But beneath the grief was the knowledge that her mother had chosen her husband over her daughter. She’d left Emily to die as well.

How could one live with that? Her hands fisted, and her lips trembled. Emily bowed her head, ashamed to feel such resentment—and even a bit of fury—mixed in with her love toward her mother. She felt guilty, yet she’d been betrayed by the one person whose love she should have most been able to count on.

At her side, John knelt and took her hand. He eased her fingers from her palm and leaned close, his breath fanning the side of her face. “Don’t torture yourself, Sunshine. Don’t blame her for not being strong. Just know that you are a strong woman. You are different.”

Emily glanced at him. He knew her so well, it seemed as though he’d read what was in her mind—and heart. He did so often. Recalling her wish after seeing Mary and Ben sharing this same bond, recalling her own desire for it, Emily realized she had it. Had that bond—but she couldn’t keep it.