Whip was nearly all the way to the notch itself before he found Shannon. She was in ice water up above her knees, pushing hard on a branch stuck between boulders in the creek.
Suddenly there was a dry, cracking sound. The branch splintered and Shannon fell headlong into the small pool of water.
Only then did Whip see what was wrong. Prettyface had slipped while scrambling across the stony creek. Somehow the dog had managed to wedge a hind foot between two boulders. The boulders were too heavy for Shannon to shift aside even an inch.
From the looks of the broken branches thrown beyond the creek, she hadn’t had much luck finding a sturdy lever to help her free Prettyface.
When Sugarfoot came to a plunging, snow-scattering stop near the stream, Shannon was pulling herself upright. Her motions were clumsy, as though she had little feeling in her hands and feet.
Whip dismounted in a rush.
«Get out of there before you freeze to death,» he ordered curtly.
If Shannon heard Whip above the chatter and splash of the icy creek, she didn’t respond. She simply picked up the longest of the discarded branches, jammed one end beneath the smaller boulder, and heaved upward with all her strength.
The branch broke.
Only Whip’s quickness saved Shannon from another ice water bath. He grabbed her, lifted her high, and dumped her into Sugarfoot’s saddle. With swift motions he peeled off his jacket and stuffed her into it.
«Stay right here,» Whip commanded. «Do you hear me, you little fool?Stay put.»
«Pre-Pretty —»
«I’ll get him out, but so help me God, if you move from that saddle I’m going to take you to the cabin and tie you to the bed before I help Prettyface. Hear me?»
Dazed by cold and fear for her dog, Shannon nodded jerkily. When Whip took her hands and wrapped them around the saddle horn, she hung on instinctively. He looked at her for a searching instant before he turned abruptly toward the dog who was standing three-legged in the rushing creek.
«Well, Prettyface,» Whip said as he waded into the frigid meltwater, «you’ve landed yourself in a mighty cold kettle of fish.»
The big dog waved his tale in greeting and watched Whip with clear wolfs eyes. Except for his legs, Prettyface was dry. If the dog was cold, he didn’t show it. He wasn’t even shivering.
Whip bent and ran his hands lightly over as much of the captive leg as he could reach. There were no swellings and only a few scraped places.
«You’re better off than your mistress, aren’t you?» Whip muttered. «Now all we have to do is get your foot out without banging it up any worse than it already is.»
Whip rubbed the dog’s head affectionately as he talked, but there was no gentleness in Whip’s silver eyes as he measured the problem. He pushed against one of the boulders, then another, testing them.
Heavy, damned heavy, but not impossible, Whip told himself.
Prettyface whined softly as Whip tested the boulders again, trying to decide which might be easiest to lift.
«All right, boy. I hear you. I won’t pinch you again.»
Whip gathered up several of the broken branches and jammed them between the boulders as far down as he could on either side of the dog’s captive paw. Then he picked up a water-rounded stone and hammered the branches down between the boulders until the heavy sticks would go no farther.
«That should keep the boulders off your paw,» Whip said. «Now hang on tight, Prettyface. There’s going to be some shoving and swearing.»
With that Whip squatted, plunged his hands into the ice water, and groped around the base of the boulder he had chosen. There was a lot of gravel and smaller stones. He began raking the rubble away from the bottom of the boulder until he could get a better grip on it. He worked quickly, for he knew his hands would soon go numb from the icy water.
«We’re in luck,» Whip said, wrapping his arms around the boulder and straining upward. «There’s a nice little ridge — near the bottom — to hang — on to.»
The words were spoken through Whip’s teeth as he straightened slowly, driving his body upward with his powerful legs while he gripped the base of the boulder. Stone gnashed over stone. Whip’s feet slipped slightly, icy water sluiced over him, but he didn’t let go.
Despite the freezing water, sweat stood on Whip’s face. The pulse in his neck beat hard. His eyes were slitted and his teeth were clenched with effort as he poured his strength into shifting the heavy boulder enough to free Shannon’s dog.
Suddenly Prettyface jerked aside and scrambled out of the creek with a happy yip.
Whip let go of the boulder and straightened, breathing hard and smiling widely. Prettyface was favoring the foot that had been caught, but otherwise was moving well.
«Go home, boy,» Whip said, gesturing down the slope.
The big dog looked toward Shannon, who was slumped in Sugarfoot’s saddle.
«Home,» Whip commanded, wading out of the icy creek.
Prettyface turned and trotted unevenly down the slope toward the cabin.
Whip went to Shannon. He took one look at her dazed eyes and blue lips, and knew that only will-power was keeping her from succumbing to the cold.
Yet she was trying to dismount.
«What the hell do you think you’re doing!» Whip demanded. «I told you to stay put.»
Shannon tried to speak but her lips were too cold. She pointed with a hand that shook.
For the first time Whip noticed the ragged back-pack and the haunch of venison that had been thrown aside in Shannon’s rush to rescue Prettyface.
Whip was tempted to get up behind Shannon, ride to the cabin, and to hell with the venison. Instead, he stalked over and picked up the backpack. The sheer determination Shannon had shown in hunting the deer moved Whip in ways he couldn’t express; the venison meant survival to her in the most fundamental sense of all. Though it infuriated Whip that Shannon had gone after deer in the first place, he couldn’t deny her the fruits of her hunt.
«Here,» he said roughly.
Whip shoved the backpack into Shannon’s lap and swung up behind her.
As soon as Whip put his arm around Shannon to take the reins, he realized that she was colder than he had thought.
Dangerously cold.
Beneath his heavy, loose jacket, Shannon’s whole body was racked by convulsive shivering.
«Son of abitch,» Whip said harshly.
His other arm came around Shannon and he set his spurs to the big gray. Sugarfoot took off down the slope at a pace just short of reckless. As far as Whip was concerned, it was much too slow, but common sense told him otherwise.
It was only a few minutes until they reached the cabin, but Shannon’s shivering was worse by then. If it hadn’t been for Whip’s strong arms holding her in the saddle, she wouldn’t have been able to stay on.
Prettyface was waiting patiently by the cabin door.
Whip dismounted, lifted Shannon off, and carried her to the cabin. Despite her shivering, she hung on to the venison as though it was life itself.
«I wish to God you had as much sense as you have sheer grit,» Whip said as he kicked the cabin door open.
Prettyface shot through the opening. Shannon shivered violently and said nothing.
It was dead cold inside the cabin. A fire had been laid in the stove, waiting for a match to bring heat and life to the room.
Prettyface didn’t mind the lack of warmth. He simply went to his corner and stretched out on a ragged saddle blanket with a groan of pleasure.
Whip put Shannon on her bed, threw the bearskin blanket over her, and went to light the fire in the stove. His hands were so cold that it took several tries before he could hold and strike a match without breaking it. Once touched by the match, flames caught and held very quickly.
That wasn’t fast enough to suit Whip. He was bigger than Shannon, he hadn’t been in the water as long as she had, and he was damned cold.
It took Whip five tries to light the lantern. When he turned toward the bed once more, his glance fell on the dry goods cupboard that led to the hot spring.
Without hesitation Whip went to the bed, scooped up Shannon, grabbed the lantern, and went through the cupboard to the darkness beyond. The warmth of the cave was like a benediction.
Whip set the lantern on the wooden box that served as a table. Golden light spilled over everything as Whip took off Shannon’s soaked boots, the bearskin blanket, and the jacket he had wrapped her in. Ruthlessly he stripped off her clothes, ripping the old cloth in his haste to get her free of its icy folds.
Shannon neither spoke nor focused her eyes on Whip while he undressed her. She simply shuddered convulsively, repeatedly.
«Shannon, can you hear me? Shannon!»
Slowly her eyes focused.
Whip let out a breath of relief.
«You’re going to have a nice, warm bath,» he said. «Then all the shivering will stop and you’ll be fine. Do you understand?»
Shannon’s head made a motion that could have been a nod. Her teeth chattered audibly until she clenched her jaw.
«That’s it, honey girl. Keep on fighting the cold. Don’t let it put you under.»
As Whip spoke, he wrenched off his own soaked boots and clothing. Moments later he carried Shannon into the pool. The broad bench Silent John had chipped and hammered out of stone was too shallow for Whip to get warm water up as high as his breastbone, but it was just right for Shannon.
When Shannon was on his lap, the water came up to the hollow of her throat. The hot spring swirled gently around Shannon, engulfing her with heat.
Breath hissed through Whip’s teeth at the touch of the water. Though he knew it wasn’t really hot in this part of the pool, for the first few moments the water felt like fire against his chilled skin.
«Are you all right?» Whip asked. «Does this hurt you?»
Shannon shook her head.
For a time there was only the soft hiss of the lantern and the subtle currents of warmth drawing the chill from their bodies. Whip’s arms surrounded Shannon, holding her upright against his chest while she shivered.
Whip could tell when Shannon’s brain started to thaw out. Though she was still shivering, she stiffened and tried to draw away from him. His arms locked, holding her against his chest.
«P-Prettyface,» she said.
«Prettyface is fine. Hell, he’s better off than you are. No need to jump out and check on him. You’re still cold enough to shiver icicles. Stay put until you’re warm.»
Shannon didn’t argue. It was too much effort to speak. She simply nodded.
But she didn’t rest against Whip’s chest again, either. She was remembering all too clearly how he had pushed her away the last time she had been close. She wasn’t going to put herself in that position again. It had hurt too much.
It still hurt.
Whip’s mouth settled into a tight line that had nothing to do with being cold. He had liked the feeling of Shannon leaning on him. He had liked the gentle weight of her on his chest and the fragrant silk of her hair brushing against his shoulder with each shift of her body.
But when he tried to draw her dose again, she stiffened and pushed away.
After a time the hot spring won out against the chill left by the icy meltwater. Shannon’s shivering subsided and her body slowly relaxed.
Whip could tell the precise instant when Shannon’s skin thawed out enough for her to recognize what he had known ever since he climbed into the pool with her — they were both naked.
«Let me g-go,» Shannon said stiffly.
«You’re still shivering.»
A tremor went through her that had nothing to do with cold.
«I’m f-fine,» she whispered.
«Good,» Whip said coolly. «Then maybe you can tell me what the hell you were doing floundering around the countryside when you should have been snug and warm andsafein your bed?»
«Hunting.»
«I figured that out. What I didn’t figure out was why.»
Shannon’s head came up. For the first time she saw Whip’s eyes. For all his outer calm, he was furious.
No news in that, Shannon told herself. Seems like he’s been furious with me ever since I admitted to loving him.
«Why do people usually hunt?» Shannon asked.
«Do you think I’m such a bastard that I won’t hunt for you?»
Shannon’s surprise showed dearly in her wide sapphire eyes.
«Of course not,» she said.
«If I hunted for you, would you take what I gave you?»
«Yes.»
«Then why in the name of God were you out hunting?» Whip demanded.
«You won’t always be here to hunt for me, so I have to learn to fend for myself.»
«You would do one hell of a lot better fending for yourself with Cal and Willy.»
«By your estimate, yes.»
«But not by yours,» he retorted.
«Not by mine,» she agreed. «Besides, I can’t just walk out on Cherokee and Prettyface.»
«Prettyface would warm to the ranch.»
«Cherokee wouldn’t.»
«How do you know?»
«I asked first thing after I got back.»
It was Whip’s turn to be surprised. «You did?»
Shannon nodded.
«I had a long time to think about how sad and angry you looked when you rode off,» Shannon said simply. «I decided I could go back and — and try — try living someone else’s life.»
Whip’s eyelids flinched at the pain in Shannon’s voice.
«If — if it didn’t work, the cabin would still be here,» Shannon said, «but I couldn’t go unless Cherokee was taken care of, too.»
Relief coursed through Whip. The arms holding Shannon gentled. He brushed his lips lightly over her hair, so lightly that she couldn’t feel the caress.
«That tough old boy has been taking care of himself twice as long as you’ve been alive,» Whip said. «He’ll do fine up here alone. You won’t.»
«Wrong,» Shannon said succinctly. «Shehas been taking care of herself for a long time. Shelikes it that way. That’s the way it’s going to stay.»
«She?»
«She,» said Shannon. «Cherokee is a woman.»
«Judas H. Priest.» Whip shook his head in disbelief. «You sure?»
Shannon nodded.
«So stop worrying about me, yondering man,» she said in a low voice. «A woman can make it just fine alone, even all the way up Avalanche Creek.»
«No. You won’t survive the winter alone.»
There was no inflection in Whip’s voice, simply an absolute certainty that said more than any shouted tirade could have.
«I survived last winter,» Shannon said, «and the one before that, and the one before that.»
Whip tried to speak, couldn’t, and tried again.
«What do you mean?» he asked roughly.
«Silent John disappeared three winters ago.»
For a moment Whip was motionless. Then he shook himself as though he had been hit with a board.
He felt like he had.
«You’ve wintered alone here three times?» Whip asked harshly.
«Yes.»
Whip wanted to believe Shannon was lying, but he knew all the way to his soul that she wasn’t.
«Then Silent John must be dead,» Whip said.
Shannon nodded and closed her eyes. «He’s buried in a landslide up Avalanche Creek.»
«How long have you known?» Whip demanded angrily.
«I guessed he was probably dead the second winter. But I wasn’t truly certain until just a bit ago, when Cherokee told me she had backtracked Razorback to a fresh landslide when Silent John didn’t come back from the claims. His tracks went in, but none came out.»
«Then nothing’s holding you here but your own stubbornness,» Whip said.
«There’s nothing holding anyone to life but sheer stubbornness,» Shannon said wearily.
«You’re planning on staying here.»
Shannon nodded.
«Damn you!» Whip said roughly. «You’re trying to tie me down!»
«No! I’m just tell —»
«How can I leave you alone and helpless up here?» he asked, his eyes as hard as his voice. «I can’t and you know it! You’re counting on me to —»
«I’m not helpless!» Shannon interrupted. «I’m not counting on you for one damned thing! I don’t need you!»
A turmoil of emotions twisted in Whip, tightening his throat, making it raw. The cold he had felt in the stream was nothing to the freezing emptiness that came to him when he thought of Shannon lying dead in the high country, her grave as unmarked as Silent John’s.
«The hell you don’t need me,» Whip said in a low, savage voice. «You nearly died out there today.»
For the space of two long breaths, Shannon looked at the man who was so close to her, yet so very far away. Lantern light made his hair burn like the sun and turned the icy clarity of his eyes into a quicksilver mystery. Nothing had ever called to Shannon the way Whip did. She would have given the blood from her body to see herself reflected in his eyes, in his heart, in his soul.
She would have sold her own soul to be a distant sunrise calling his name…and to hear him answer.
«Yes,» Shannon said calmly. «I could have died. But so what? The stars would have come out tonight and the sun would have risen tomorrow morning. The only difference would be that I wouldn’t see it.» She smiled oddly. «Not much difference, really. About the same as this.»
Shannon lifted her hand from the water. Liquid swirled and then flowed back as though her hand had never been there, never known the pool’s warmth.
Whip looked at the dark water and felt a dull knife sawing through his soul, cutting him in two.
«See?» she asked softly. «No real difference. Now do what the water did, Whip. Let me go.»
«You’re still shivering.»
«I’ll be fine as soon as I get some clothes on.»
«The water is warmer than those rags you wear.»
The protectiveness of Whip’s arms around Shannon said much more than his words did. He didn’t love her, but he cared about her safety.
It was a heady feeling to be cared for, to be cherished, to know that she wasn’t alone, if only for a time.
The temptation to give in and rest her head against Whip’s chest undermined Shannon’s determination to stand alone. She longed to lean against Whip’s heat and strength, to pull him around her like a living blanket, to warm herself with his abundant fire.
And then she remembered what Whip had said the last time she reached out for him.
Don’t touch me.
Echoes of shame and humiliation swept through Shannon in waves. Abruptly she pushed at Whip’s arms, trying to get free of him.
«What the hell?» Whip asked. «Why are you fighting me? You act like I’m going to rape you!»
Shannon made a sound that was almost laughter and not quite a sob.
«You wouldn’t have to rape me and you know it,» she said bitterly.
A shudder went through Whip.
«Dangerous words, honey girl.»
«Why? You don’t want me. You can’t even bear my touch.»
The pain and shame in Shannon’s voice shattered Whip’s restraint. He moved suddenly, scattering water in all directions as he captured one of her hands. He dragged her hand below the warm surface of the water and pressed her fingers around the blunt, heavy proof of his hunger for her. His breath hissed in, then came out with a low groan.
«Now,» Whip said through his teeth, «tell me again that I don’t want you to touch me. I’d kill to have you and you damn well know it.»
Shocked sapphire eyes looked at Whip.
«Then why do you keep pushing me away?» Shannon asked raggedly. «I’m not asking you to love me. I’m not begging you to stay with me. I just want…I just want to be alive, reallyalive, before I die. I’m a widow who was never a bride, and if you don’t take me I’ll go to my grave without knowing what it is to give myself to the man I love.»
Abruptly Whip dragged Shannon’s hand free of his aching flesh and released her.
«I can’t,» he said.
Shannon gave a broken laugh and ran her hand back down Whip’s body.
«You most certainly can,» she said.
Whip’s breath hissed as Shannon explored the rigid evidence of his capability.
«You’re a virgin,» he said through his teeth.
«I’m a widow.»
«I could make you pregnant.»
«I’d love to have your child.»
«I couldn’t leave if you were pregnant,» Whip said. «Is that what you want? To force me to stay?»
«No. You would hate me.»
«I’d hatemyself. Oh, God…stop.»
Gently, relentlessly, Whip recaptured Shannon’s exploring hand and brought it to his lips. The kiss he gave her palm was fierce, edged with teeth. It sent a shaft of pure desire through Shannon’s body.
«What did you do with your other widows?» she asked in a husky voice.
A tinge of red appeared on Whip’s cheekbones.
«Honey girl, you ask the damnedest questions.»
«Were they all too old to get pregnant?» Shannon persisted.
Belatedly Whip realized that Shannon wasn’t asking for a detailed description of how he coupled with women. He let out a sigh, half laughing and half on fire at Shannon’s combination of innocence and breathtaking honesty.
«No, they weren’t too old to get pregnant,» Whip said. «They were old enough to know hownotto get pregnant.»
«Celibacy.»
The disappointment in Shannon’s voice made Whip ache with laughter and a reckless kind of passion he had never known before he met her.
«There are other ways,» he said.
«Truly? What are they?»
«Not coupling.»
«Sounds like celibacy to me.»
Whip’s smile was slow and very male. «Not quite, honey girl. More like half a loaf. Like you under the tarpaulin with hail hammering down.»
A shudder of memory and anticipation went through Shannon.
«Is that what you want?» she asked.
«It’s a hell of a lot better than nothing.»
«But…»
«But?» Whip asked, gathering Shannon closer.
«I want to touch you, too. I want to make the world catch fire around you,» Shannon whispered, remembering how it had been for her. «I want to watch you burn. I want to pleasure you until you cry out and the world goes a hot kind of black that’s shot through with all the colors of the rainbow.»
Whip’s heart kicked and blood slammed through his veins. He could barely force words past the heady rush of passion that was closing his throat.
«Did I make you feel like that, honey girl?»
«Yes,» she said in a low voice. «Only better. I don’t have words to tell you. Except…»
Whip nuzzled Shannon’s hair and made a questioning sound.
«I wanted more,» Shannon admitted. «I wanted to feel your body all hot and strong around me. I wanted…» Her voice faltered. «I don’t know what I wanted. I just knew that there was something missing.»
Every muscle in Whip’s body clenched at Shannon’s words. His breath wedged, then hissed out through his teeth.
He knew exactly what had been missing.
«Is that wrong of me?» Shannon asked when Whip didn’t speak.
«No, it’s not wrong,» Whip said huskily. «It’s damned wonderful. Some women are happy just to be petted a bit from time to time, but men want more.»
«Just a bit of petting? That’s all the women wanted?»
Whip made a rumbling sound of agreement.
Shannon frowned. «All the time?»
Whip’s teeth closed gently over the top of Shannon’s ear. He savored the shiver of awareness that went through her.
«Well, it’s certainly better than nothing,» she said finally. «But if the, er, whole loaf is at hand, why be satisfied with less?»
Whip laughed silently and wondered if a man could die of desire while sitting naked in a hot spring with a virgin widow who was as curious as a kitten.
And as heedless.
«Women are more likely to get pregnant during certain times of the month,» Whip said. «That’s when the, um, whole loaf is best kept in the bread drawer. Or drawers.»
«You’re laughing at me.»
«No, honey girl. I’m laughing, period.»
«Why?»
«You delight me,» Whip said against Shannon’s ear. «I want to kiss you from head to heels and back again, but I don’t trust myself not to take you.»
Shannon shivered and looked into Whip’s silver eyes. The heat and approval she saw made her heart stop.
«I’d like to kiss you the same way,» she whispered, «all over, head to heels. You have such a beautiful body, all sleek and powerful and —»
Warm, wet fingers sealed Shannon’s lips, shutting off the tumbling flow of her words.
«No more, honey girl. You’re burning me alive.»
Slowly Whip removed his fingers, caressing every curve of Shannon’s lips as he did.
«I don’t mean to burn you,» she whispered. «I don’t even know how. Will you teach me, Whip? Will you tell me how to turn the world into a glittering black rainbow for you?»
«No,» Whip said roughly. «Don’t you understand? I can’t.»