Only Love (29 page)

Don’t wake up yet, sweet woman. Let me taste your dreams.

Long fingers found and unfastened Shannon’s pants, pushing the loose fabric down her legs and over her feet. She stirred restlessly, then calmed when Whip held her close.

“It’s just me, honey girl,” he murmured against her ear.

Shannon made a sleepy sound and cuddled even more closely against Whip.

He lay very still, trying to slow the savage hammering of his heart that had begun when his fingers encountered the silky underwear. He wanted to look at Shannon wearing only that bit of softness and lace. He wanted it until sweat gathered in the small of his back.

But he wanted to touch her sleeping dreams even more.

Whip knew if he cast off the covers so that the swelling light of dawn could bathe Shannon, she would awaken. So he held her until she lay relaxed in his arms once more. Then he eased slowly down her body beneath the blankets, his mouth following the opening in the chemise, tracing the margin between silk underwear and satin skin.

Shannon stirred as heat flushed her body, a seething warmth that was summoned by Whip’s slow, thorough loving. She sighed and her hips moved in the languid rhythms of his caresses.

Her sensuous response consumed Whip as softly and completely as he was consuming her. The world became infused with heat and the elemental perfume of a woman’s desire.

Honey girl,
Whip groaned silently.
God, I could die trying to get enough of you.

A tiny, shuddering sound escaped Shannon’s lips. It was Whip’s name, called as much in dream as in waking.

He answered with a silky movement of his mouth and her name whispered into the seething darkness beneath the blankets.

For a time Shannon could find no difference between
her dream and the hot awakening that flushed her skin. Then pleasure speared softly through her, stopping her breath. When the sweet, pulsing sensations passed, she moaned, wanting more.

Whip felt the difference in the tension of Shannon’s body and knew that he had awakened her into ecstasy. He could feel its heat all around him and taste its sultry mystery. When he caressed her again, he sensed the rhythmic pulses deep within her.

Sweat bathed Whip from his forehead to the soles of his feet. He wanted to be within Shannon’s ecstasy so much that he felt as though he were being torn apart.

He didn’t know that he had called her name in his need, until her hands buried themselves in his hair and tugged at him, pulling him back up her body. As he moved, her hands went to his shirt, his pants, unfastening everything, seeking him blindly.

Whip captured Shannon’s hands beneath one of his own, holding them against the rigid ache of his arousal.

“Whip…?” she murmured questioningly, moving her hips, trying to capture him.

“No, honey girl. Not that way.”

“Why?” she murmured, eyes closed.

“I don’t trust myself not to get you pregnant.”

Shannon shivered and threw off the last of her sultry dreams. But reality was no less hot. She could feel the hard beating of Whip’s pulse beneath her captive hands.

“Yesterday and the day before—” she began.

“And the day before that,” Whip interrupted
tautly. “Each day is closer to the time when you’re fertile.”

“But from what you said, it should be safe for at least five days, maybe more.”

Whip’s breath hissed out through his teeth.

“Should be isn’t good enough,” he said flatly. “You’re too damned addictive, honey girl. Each time I slide into you I want you more. Deeper. Hotter. Harder. I can’t trust myself to hold back long enough to protect you. Hell, I’m all but out of control right now, just thinking about how it is when we’re locked together.”

Shannon looked at the smoky silver of Whip’s eyes. They gleamed like a cat’s in the rising light of dawn. She lifted her mouth to Whip’s, tasted him and herself and passion, and let out a long, broken sigh.

“I love feeling your pleasure so deep inside me,” she said, moving slowly against him. “I love feeling the weight and strength of you. I love the feel of your hunger in my hands, in my body.”

“Shannon,” Whip whispered. “I—”

Then he could say no more, for she had moved suddenly. His hot, sensitive flesh was sliding against the entrance to her sultry core.

“I love you, Whip. Love me in the only way you can, for whatever time we have left.”

With a sound of a man in torment, Whip allowed Shannon to take him. The hot, slick ease of the joining almost undid him. He clenched his whole body, fighting for control.

Then Whip felt the butterfly wings of Shannon’s ecstasy caressing him. He cried out as the exquisite, delicate touches hurled him into a pleasure so great he could only surrender himself to it, and to the woman whose cries echoed his.

*   *   *

T
HE
second time Shannon woke up, Whip was watching her with haunted gray eyes. He was fully dressed and held a rifle in his hands. Prettyface was dancing impatiently around Shannon’s bedroll, eager to be off hunting.

“I’m going up to see how Reno is doing,” Whip said tightly. “Then I’ll go with you back to the cabin.”

“And then?” Shannon asked, uneasy at what she saw in Whip’s eyes.

“Then I’ll come back and help Reno.”

“He didn’t look like he needed any help.”

“The sooner he finds gold, the safer you’ll be,” Whip said.

“Safer?”

“The sooner I leave, the less chance there is of making you pregnant,” Whip said savagely.

“I see.”

“I shouldn’t have taken you!”

“You didn’t,” she retorted. “I took you.”

Whip’s mouth flattened. “Either way, honey girl, only one of us will get pregnant.”

“Do tell.”

“I’m trying, but you aren’t listening. I can’t keep my pants fastened around you and I’m damned if I’ll be tied down, so—”

“You’ll leave as soon as you can,” Shannon interrupted, her voice as flat as the line of Whip’s mouth. Though tears stood in her eyes, her voice was steady. “Old territory, Whip. We’ve been over it fifty times by now. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Be ready to leave by the time the sun is full overhead,” Whip said.

He turned and stalked off. Prettyface followed,
only to be sent back to Shannon with a curt word.

Whip took the trail to Rifle Sight claim with long, punishing strides. He hoped it would take the starch out of his relentless hunger for the girl with autumn hair and eyes as deep as the mountain sky.

But he knew it wouldn’t.

Nothing could compete with Shannon except the sunrise he hadn’t seen—the vast distance calling his name, promising him the freedom of the world and the mysteries of a thousand Edens.

And Whip had just thought of a way to be certain of keeping that promise.

By the time Whip reached the claim, he was somewhat calmer. Even so, Reno gave his brother a wary look when he saw Whip waiting for him just beyond the entrance to the mine. The look in Whip’s eyes would have done credit to a trapped wolf.

“Lose something?” Reno asked mildly.

“No. I found it.”

Reno’s green eyes asked a silent question.

“Gold,” Whip said succinctly.

“Where?”

“In your corral.”

“If I wait long enough, I suppose I’ll hear something that makes sense,” Reno said.

“How much chance do you think there is of finding gold on Silent John’s claims?”

“Real gold? The kind that buys bacon and beans and freedom for dumb yondering men?”

“Yes,” Whip said savagely.

“About a snowball’s chance in hell.”

“That much?” Whip retorted. “I would have put the odds a lot lower, myself.”

Reno smiled despite his irritation with his thickheaded brother.

“I was trying to let you down easy,” Reno said.

“Truth is, horseshit has more gold in it than this mine.”

Whip gave a crack of laughter that was almost painful.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Whip said. “Yet Shannon talked about Silent John bringing pieces of ore down the mountain that were so rotten with gold they came apart in your hands.”

“Then Silent John must have had God’s own claim. But it isn’t on Avalanche Creek,” Reno added with certainty.

“Shannon doesn’t know that.”

“She will when I tell her.”

“Don’t.” Whip’s voice was curt, final.

Reno waited.

“Do you still have nuggets and dust stashed around from your old claims?” Whip asked.

Reno nodded.

“Dig up one of those ingots of Spanish gold Eve gave me,” Whip said. “Swap it for nuggets and dust.”

“Hold it. I don’t have that much loose stuff.”

“Make up the difference with my gold. Shave it or melt it and pour it into the dust or put dynamite under it and blow it to hell and back. Just get that damned gold up here in pieces.”

Reno’s black eyebrows rose.

“Bring Eve,” Whip continued relentlessly. “Salt that damned useless mine. Put on a show with the Spanish needles. Do whatever you have to,
but make sure Shannon believes the gold came from Silent John’s claim.”

“If I do what you say, I’ll end up with at least three kinds of loose gold—placer, dust, and shot-gunned into the rock,” Reno said. “In addition, the gold will be different colors from what is found up
here. Some of my gold has more copper, some has more silver. Hell, some of it is placer gold, worn smooth as a baby’s bottom.”

“So?”

“So it wouldn’t fool a miner who knows Echo Basin gold mines,” Reno said impatiently.

“That’s not a problem. Shannon doesn’t know gold from granite.”

Reno took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh. Rock dust rose.

Warily, Whip waited.

Reno whacked the hat a few more times and put it back on his head with a smooth, quick motion.

“All right,” Reno said. “I’ll be back in six days with Eve and enough gold so that Shannon can be free of Echo Basin—and you can be free of her.”

Whip’s eyelids flinched in silent pain, but he said nothing. With hungry eyes he watched the arc of the sun across the sky.

“Make it four days,” Whip said flatly.

“Judas Priest. If you’re that restless, just leave. I’ll take care of things here.”

Slowly Whip shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s just that the longer I stay with her …”

Whip turned and walked away without saying any more. He didn’t know how to explain that each day spent with Shannon made it harder to leave her.

And each day made it more certain that the pain of parting would be deeper.

I never meant to hurt you, honey girl.

Yet Whip would, and he knew it.

T
ORN
between hope the gold hunt would succeed and certainty that success meant the end of her time with Whip, Shannon watched Reno work the valley next to a slender woman whose hair was the color of gold dust. Their movements were smooth and elegant, in complete harmony.

As Reno and Eve turned, Shannon could see that each held a Spanish needle between one thumb and palm. The forked end of the needles rested against each other, interlocking gently.

There was no pressure from either Reno or Eve that forced the needles into contact. Nor was there any attempt to keep the needles touching. In truth, there was no visible reason for the dowsing needles to remain interlocked while Reno and Eve walked over the rugged land.

Yet the needles did.

“It’s…incredible,” Shannon said.

Her voice was a whisper, though there was no chance of being overheard.

“The needles?” Whip asked.

“The way Reno and Eve move together. As
though the Spanish needles were connecting them rather than the opposite.”

“Reno once told me that if moonlight were water flowing, the feel of its currents would be like the needles when he and Eve use them. Ghostly, but very real.”

“Like the feeling that comes when I remember how we…” Shannon’s voice died as a flush climbed her cheeks.

The quicksilver gleam of Whip’s eyes told her that he knew what she was thinking.

“Just like that, honey girl. Interlocking, moving, rocking. Only with us, it’s more like currents from the sun than the moon.”

Shannon smiled and took a shivery kind of breath. “Yes.”

The back of Whip’s fingers brushed lightly down Shannon’s hot cheek. His thumb slid lower, caressing first her lips and then the race of her pulse in her neck.

“Time to go,” Whip said, his voice unusually deep. “Crowbait is packed and ready for the trail.”

Shannon spun to face Whip fully. Pain made her features bleak and her voice raw.

“But I thought you wouldn’t leave until they found gold,” she protested shakily.

Whip gathered Shannon close, wrapping his arms around her, feeling her pain as though it was his own.

“Shannon,” he whispered against her hair. “I wasn’t talking about leaving alone. I was talking about taking you back to the cabin and doing some deer hunting.”

For an instant Shannon’s arms tightened almost harshly around Whip. Then she pulled back and
forced a smile onto lips that would rather have done anything else.

“Of course,” she said, looking away from Whip’s too-knowing eyes. “Silly of me. I don’t know what I was thinking of.”

Whip’s eyelids flinched. He knew exactly what Shannon had been thinking of. The fact that he would leave her soon had been haunting him, too.

I don’t want to hurt her.

I can’t stay.

God, why did I ever come to Echo Basin in the first place? Before now I never guessed how much a man could hurt and never show a wound.

Nor how much a woman could cry and never make a sound. Looking at Shannon’s sad eyes is tearing my heart out.

But all Whip said aloud was, “You’ve learned a lot about tracking and stalking in the last few days. By the time deer and elk start coming down out of the high country, you’ll be a good hunter.”

Not that she needed to be. Whip had shot enough game for Shannon, Cherokee, and a starving bear to winter on. Most of it was at Cherokee’s cabin right now, curing over slow fires.

“Hunting. Of course,” Shannon said distantly, her voice as empty as her smile. “Well, we’d better get cracking, hadn’t we? Should I say good-bye to Reno and Eve now, or will they come by the cabin before the three of you leave for good?”

“Shannon …” Whip’s voice dried up.

He swallowed hard, trying to banish the emotion that kept ambushing him without warning.

“Reno and Eve like you a lot,” Whip said finally. “They would be happy to have you visit them.”

“Of course,” Shannon said for the third time.

And for the third time, the words meant nothing.

“Will you?” Whip pressed.

“Will I what?”

“Visit Reno and Eve.”

“Don’t worry,” Shannon said, her voice neutral. “You won’t trip over me if you come back from yondering and want to see your own family.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Isn’t it? Well, in any case, it’s what I meant.”

“What about Caleb and Willow?” Whip demanded. “Are you just going to walk away from them, too?”

Shannon gave Whip a look from narrowed blue eyes.

“They’re your family, not mine,” she said distinctly. “I’m not walking away to anywhere but home, yondering man.”

“Damn it, that shack isn’t a home,” Whip said between his teeth.

“It is to me. Nothing you can say or do will change that. Accept it. Just as I’ve accepted that you’ll leave me as soon as your conscience lets you.”

Shannon turned away from Whip. In silence she watched the two people who moved as one over the rough slope. Just beyond Reno and Eve the mine’s mouth opened like a black, empty eye. They began quartering the area carefully, walking out from the mine’s entrance.

Whip watched, too. A muscle at the side of his jaw worked visibly as he fought to control his temper at Shannon’s maddening, stubborn insistence that she would keep on living in a place he didn’t believe was safe for her.

But there was nothing he could do about that, any more than he could take the darkness from Shannon’s beautiful eyes and replace it with light.

“It’s getting late,” Whip said finally.

Shannon nodded without looking away from the intricate dance of Spanish needles, woman, and man.

And love.

Shannon felt Eve’s and Reno’s love for one another like a knife turning in her soul. She would never have its like. When Whip left, he would take her love with him.

And he wouldn’t come back.

I never go to the same place twice.

“It takes time to find gold,” Whip said, keeping his voice level. “We have better things to do than watch Reno and Eve working.”

“How long does it take?”

For a moment Whip didn’t answer. He was too shocked by the flatness in Shannon’s voice. Where laughter and hope and love had once been, there now were only harshly controlled syllables and no life at all.

“It could be days,” Whip said. “The needles are tricky and tiring to use.”

“Days.”

The word was almost a ragged sigh, telling Whip that Shannon had hoped the answer would be weeks, perhaps months.

Perhaps even until the snows came, closing the trail to Avalanche Creek’s highest reaches.

“Then you’re right,” Shannon said. “We can’t waste any more time stalking sunlight through the forest, or picking flowers, or playing with Prettyface, or holding hands and watching sunset and moonrise, or lying together at night and pretending that tomorrow will never come.”

“Shannon—”

“No,” she said, speaking over Whip’s interruption
. “You’re right. It’s time to move on.”

“Damn it! You make it sound like I’m saying good-bye right now. I’m not!”

“You should be. It might be easier that way.”

“Is that what you want? For me to walk away right now?”

“What I want?” Shannon laughed oddly. “What in God’s name does what I want have to do with it?”

Tears flashed unhappily in her eyes.

“Shannon,” Whip whispered. He reached for her. “Honey girl, don’t cry.”

“No.”

Shannon stepped back from Whip so quickly that she almost tripped.

“Don’t touch me.”

Her voice was raw from the fierce grip she had on her emotions.

“But—”

“If you touch me,” Shannon said over Whip’s voice, “I’ll really cry and that won’t do any good at all.”

Whip moved with alarming speed and strength, yet his hands were gentle when he pulled Shannon into his arms and wrapped her close against his body.

“I m-meant it,” Shannon said brokenly, refusing to meet Whip’s eyes.

“I believe you.”

He bent and kissed her eyelashes where silver tears already glittered.

“Go ahead and cry, honey girl. Cry hard and long. For both of us.”

A shudder went through Shannon as she fought against herself and the man who held her, cherished
her, protected her, wanted her…but loved only the sunrise he had never seen.

Then she looked up at Whip’s eyes and saw her own helpless pain reflected there, an anguish that was all the more intense because he had never expected to feel it.

Cry hard and long. For both of us.

The fierce tension in Shannon’s body broke. She pressed her face against Whip’s neck and wept as though everything of life had been taken from her except pain itself.

Eyes closed, jaw clenched, Whip held Shannon, rocking her slowly, trying to ease the anguish that came from a hurt he had never meant to give, an agony that sprang from what he was and didn’t know how to change.

Yondering man.

After a time Whip carried Shannon to his horse, for he couldn’t force himself to let go of her. They rode down the mountain together, followed by a long-legged mule and a packhorse, with a huge hound trotting alongside.

Somewhere between Rifle Sight’s dreams of gold and the cabin’s lonely reality, Shannon’s tears finally stopped. Even then, Whip didn’t release her. He simply held her against his chest, his arms close around her as though he expected her to be taken from him without warning.

When they reached the cabin, Whip carried Shannon inside and put her on the bunk. Despite the heat of the day, the cabin was chilly, for no fire had been lit for many nights. He pulled the thick bearskin blanket over her and tucked it beneath her chin.

“I’ll be back as soon as I’ve taken care of the animals,” Whip said.

Shannon started to protest, then simply nodded agreement. She had never felt so tired in her life, or so cold. Not even after she had tried to dig Prettyface out of the creek’s icy trap.

When Whip returned he found Shannon curled beneath the heavy, furry blanket, staring at the rich sunset colors that were seeping through the ill-fitting shutters. A narrow shaft of red-gold light lay across her eyes, transforming them into an orchid color that was as exotic as anything Whip had ever seen in his years of yondering.

Then Shannon turned and looked at Whip. The grief in her eyes hit him like a blow.

“Honey girl,” he said roughly, kneeling beside her bed. “Oh, God, I wish I were a different man!”

“I don’t.” Shannon touched Whip’s sun-bright hair with fingers that trembled. “I wouldn’t have loved a different man.”

“I’ll stay.”

For an instant joy blazed in Shannon, burning away the desolate shadows. Then Whip’s eyelashes lifted and she saw the metallic sheen of his eyes. He had the fierce, hunted look of a wolf brought to bay.

“It wouldn’t work.” Shannon smiled with trembling lips. “But thank you for offering.”

“I’ll make it work.”

“How?” she asked simply. “Will you stop playing your flute at dawn, calling to the sunrise you’ve never seen? Will you stop looking into the clouds at sunset with hunger in your eyes for a different land, a different language, a different life? Will you stop yearning for something that has no name, no description, simply your soul-deep belief that such a thing exists somewhere on the face of the earth, waiting for you to discover it?”

Whip’s breath caught. He hadn’t realized that Shannon understood him so well.

Better than he understood himself.

“I want you,” he said starkly.

“I know,” Shannon said. “But you’ll leave anyway. Desire isn’t enough to satisfy your yearning, yondering soul. Only love could do that.”

Abruptly Whip closed his eyes. “I’ll come back to you, honey girl.”

“Don’t,” Shannon whispered, stroking the fierce lines of Whip’s face. “The pain would be too much when you left again. For both of us.”

“Shannon—God, I’m so sorry—”

Whip’s voice broke. Tears glittered wildly in his eyes.

“It’s all right, yondering man,” she whispered. “It’s all right.”

She kissed Whip’s eyelids, his cheeks, the corners of his mouth.

“I never should have touched you,” Whip said, shivering beneath the delicate caresses.

“You never lied to me,” Shannon said, kissing him gently, repeatedly. “You warned me every step of the way that you were a yondering man. I didn’t understand at first. Then I didn’t believe. But I do now.”

“I should be horsewhipped for taking your innocence,” Whip said roughly. “No decent man would have.”

“I wanted you. You were kind and gentle when other men were savage and crude. I couldn’t have asked for a more decent man to teach me passion.”

“I didn’t want you to love me,” Whip whispered, for his throat was closed around emotions he refused to release. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Shannon smiled sadly. “I can hardly be the first
widow who watched you leave with love in her eyes.”

“You’re the first one whose sorrow cut me until I bled and just kept on bleeding.”

There was pain in Whip’s tone, and accusation, and bafflement.

“You can no more change my loving you than I can change your not loving me,” Shannon said. “It’s just the way it is, like a river running down to the sea or smoke rising into the sky or the earth turning, carrying you away from me toward the sunrise you’ve never seen.”

Shannon’s name came from Whip’s mouth in a broken rush that was nearly a cry.

“Whip,” she whispered. “Let’s not waste any more breath on what can’t be changed. Love me in the only way you can while you’re here. Join your body with mine and take me to the sun. We have so little time left….”

Whip’s breath came in with a swift, ripping sound as Shannon’s hands slid down his body and cradled his very different, very aroused flesh.

“No,” he said thickly. “It’s too dangerous. Too many days have gone by.”

“Then at least let me bring you ease.”

With an anguished sound, Whip dragged Shannon’s hands back up his body.

“No,” he said curtly. “Don’t you understand?
I don’t trust myself.
I start out telling myself that we’ll just pet each other a bit, no more. Just mutual ease and comfort. Then your breath begins to break and you tremble and I feel the honey and fire between your legs and all I want to do is bury myself in you.”