He felt the quick, almost birdlike movement of her head. She'd lifted her face to his.
Oh God ... He grabbed her by the shoulders, intending to push her away, but as his fingers curled around the softness of her flesh, he felt his control waver. Slowly, slowly, he pulled her to him.
When he looked down into her huge, expectant eyes, he was lost. In the deepest recesses of his tired, bitter soul, something warm and bright and almost hopeful unfurled.
"Cornelius?" Her voice was a throaty purr that slid down his ramrod-stiff spine like melted butter.
She was on her tiptoes now, her face within inches of his. He could feel the soft vibrations of her breath against his throat. Her lips were one quick movement away. . . .
She wanted him to kiss her, the little fool.
The realization that he wanted the same thing hit him like a lightning bolt. He swallowed dryly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to kiss a woman-a quick roll between the sheets, sure, but a kiss? An honest-to-God, lip-to-lip kiss? Never.
"Devon, don't be stupid." He tried to stifle the harsh, almost desperate tenor of his voice but couldn't. "You don't know what you're starting here."
She stared up at him unblinkingly. He was wrong. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted it more than she'd ever wanted
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Something real.
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will
Darn.
clang.
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did
Nice, cozy tent.
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to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. Eyes closed, he leaned heavily against the tree trunk.
Yep, two days away from her and he'd be as good as new. "Stone Man" MacKenna.
But his last conscious thought before drifting off to sleep was of a pair of green eyes.
Chapter Fourteen
Devon curled her gloved fingers around the tin cup, drawing some small bit of warmth from the metal. She took a sip, sighing contentedly as the hot tea slid in a river of warmth down her throat.
From her seat beside the stove she glanced idly around the post. It was perfect, spotless. There was absolutely nothing to be done. Nothing.
Darn it. Stone Man hadn't been gone a week, and already she was bored to tears. And lonely.
"Hiya, miss."
Devon's startled gaze flew to the tent flaps. Digger Haines was standing just inside the post, and for the first time since she'd met him he wasn't smiling.
"Hello, Digger. Would you like some tea?"
He shuffled over to the little stove and pulled out a stool beside her. With a heavy sigh he slumped onto the hard wooden surface. "Call me Marvin. I don't feel much like Digger today."
Devon leaned toward him. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing much," he said with unusual bitterness. "I just made about the biggest discovery of my life, and I can't do nothin' about it. That's all." He stripped off his thick winter gloves and laid them on the floor in front of the stove. "Yeah, guess I'll have some o' that tea after all."
Frowning, Devon poured him a cup. "What do you mean?"
He took the cup greedily, wrapping his stubby fingers 151
He's gone, darn it. If he were so all-fired concerned about how she ran the post, he should have stuck around. A
loved
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First December 1896.
Weather today is crisp and clear. No new snow last nightbuildup remains at approximately eighteen inches.
Several miners seen milling about the saloon this a.m.- apparently it's now too cold to be on the trail. Hard winter is close, and the men who have spent months mining Bonanza Creek are returning home.
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It's time he came home.
<
No!
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like her. could
cheechako,
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cheechako
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Chapter Fifteen
Damn bees.
This isn 't the way it should have ended for you. Of all of us, you deserved better.
Don't start thinking about what he deserved. . . .
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Damn!
The Portrait of a Lady.
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It has to be done.
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please wake up
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Oh, God.
Yukoner
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Chapter Sixteen
Stone Man awakened with a smile on his face. Lazily he lifted his head off the pillow. For the first time in a week he didn 't have a headache. His smile expanded.
The first thing he saw was the woman stretched out beside him. Devon. In his mind the word was a caress. She looked breathtakingly beautiful and oh so desirable.
"Devon," he whispered throatity.
She blinked awake. "Morning," she purred.
He felt himself drowning in her eyes. He reached out to her. She snuggled closer. A lock of burnished russet hair twined around his forefinger, and it felt like a swatch of the finest French silk.
"I. . ."He stopped, suddenly awkward. "I don't know what to say. Words are so inadequate. But thank you for saving my life. It means a lot to me that you cared enough to bother.
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Goddamn it!
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cheechako
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No, goddamn it, I'm not all right. I haven't been all right since the day you came into my life.
Oh, Bear . . .
needed
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1
BEAR
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You just plan that party, missy. I'll be there.
needing
that
* * *
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Oh, God.
Oh my God.
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me
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Chapter Seventeen
L
crack.
The little one ignored his friends' warnings. He marched right up to Midas. "Father Michaels tole us about St. Nick. Are you him?" he demanded.
Midas dropped down to one knee. "I sure am."
The minute the words were out of his mouth, Santa was swarmed. The children were all over him, giggling, teasing, testing his beard, poking his stomach.
"Whoa, kids, whoa," Santa said, laughing. "I got a job to do. I got some presents for you."
It was now or never. Devon glanced quickly around the room. Everyone was caught up in the excitement of Santa distributing gifts. Everyone, that was, except Stone Man. He was sitting by himself in the corner, eating the last piece of pumpkin pie.
She reached under the table beside her and grabbed the present she'd stowed there earlier in the day. Then, steeling her spine, she briskly crossed the room.
He heard the little click, click, click of her heels and knew he was in trouble. Burying his chin in the soft folds of his flannel shirt, he offered a quick-and hopeful-prayer that she'd walk on by.
She didn't, of course, and after a long silence he forced himself to look up.
She dropped to her knees in front of him. For the first time in days he found himself face to face with her, and the effect made it difficult to breathe. Her eyes were greener than he remembered, her skin paler. The soft, Christmasy scent of her filled his nostrils.
He quickly cleared his throat. "What do you want?"
Pain flitted across her face, and he felt like the idiot he was. Yet he couldn't trust himself to be nice to her. Not now, not with her lips mere inches from his own.
Her tongue darted out from between her pink lips, leaving a trail of glistening wetness in its wake. "I have something -j for you. A Christmas gift."
She shoved a little red-wrapped package at him.
It fell in his lap with a muffled thud. He wanted to touch it but couldn
't. His fingers were shaking too badly to function.
She laughed nervously. "You don't have to open it. It's
just my old copy of Dickens's A Christmas Carol. It's one of my favorites, and, well, I thought you might identify-"
"I didn't get you anything." He knew his voice sounded strained, harsh, but he couldn't change it. It felt like he was being strangled. "I've never given ... or gotten a present. [ didn't even think-"
"It's all right." She laid one small, warm palm against his cheek. "Merry Christmas, Cornelius." And with that, before he had time even to mutter thank you, she was gone.
As his fingers trailed reverently across the bright red paper, a huge, desert-dry lump lodged in his throat.
A present. For him. Dear God, it was going to take all the willpower he possessed not to take her in his arms tonight. Every damn scrap.
Several hours later Devon stacked the last plate. Back-handing the sheen of moisture from her forehead, she dried her wet hands on her apron.
The table had been disassembled, the red wool blankets folded and put away. The children and their parents had long since gone home. Only the miners were left, and they were sitting around in small huddles, reminiscing. Not a man in the room wanted to leave.
Well, she amended, maybe one.
Her gaze went to Stone Man. He was sitting all alone in the cabin's corner, half asleep. Her heart skipped a beat. He looked so peaceful with his eyes closed. Almost vulnerable.
Without thinking she took a step toward him.
"Hey Devon!" came a boisterous male voice from the crowd of men at her left.
She swore under her breath. Stone Man's eyes blinked open, and their gazes locked. In that split second before he became fully awake, she saw in his eyes what she'd been looking for. Tenderness.
She flashed him a bright smile.
He immediately scowled. She didn't care; she'd seen the softness, and it gave her new hope for the rest of the evening. Maybe she could find a way to bring that look back into his eyes. She turned toward the boys. "Yes?"
Cornstalk staggered forward. The men closed in around the boy, pushing him forward.
"Mish Devon, we go' sumthin' for ya."
His boozy breath almost knocked her over. The smile froze on her face. She tried not to breathe.
"Me, an' Digger, an' Midas, an' Joe, an' a bunch o' the boys, we go' together an' go' ya sumthin' for Cristmas. Ish our way o' sayin' th-" He hiccuped loudly. "Thanks."
Digger wrenched the pint-sized green bottle out of Cornstalk's hand and shoved it at her. "Crissakes, kid, talk like a human. Here, miss. This is for you. From us."
Emotion squeezed Devon's throat. "I ... I don't know what to say. ..."
"Don't say nuthin', just drink it," hollered someone from the back of the crowd.
She examined the bottle's dirty white label. In elaborate black script it read Farino's Very Dry Champagne. Spirits! She winced. "I-It's a lovely gesture. Truly. I'll save it-"
"Ain't she gonna drink it?" someone else yelled.
"Course she's gonna drink it. Ain't ya, miss?" Digger said. "Joe Ladue carried that bottle all the way from home."
It took willpower to keep the grimace off her face. As a lady, of course, she'd never tasted spirits, never wanted to. "Now?" At their collective nod, she gulped.
"Here, miss, you can use my cup." Cornstalk swallowed the last dregs of hootch in his battered tin cup then wiped the inside clean with his dirty sleeve and handed it to her.
She suppressed a shudder. Digger grabbed the bottle and the cup and with great ceremony poured the champagne.
Devon's eyes widened. "Oh! You needn't pour it all-"
"Nonsense, miss. Champagne don't keep."
She forced a smile. "Naturally."
When the cup was full to the brim, he handed it back her. A dozen pairs of eyes bored through her. She trapped. It would be the height of rudeness to refuse to drink.'
She took a dainty sip of the liquid. "Why, it's good!" exclaimed.
A hearty cheer rose from the men, and they set ab clapping each other on the back.
As they congratulated themselves Devon took several
ladylike sips, finding the tart taste extremely pleasant. The way it bubbled all the way to her stomach was most delightful.
The men waited patiently for her to finish the champagne (which took a shockingly short amount of time), and then filed past her to the door. One by one they solemnly shook her hand, said thank you, and then left.
The second-to-the-last one to say good night was Midas. He shuffled up to her slowly, his pinched face unreadable. She tensed, waiting for his hatred to resurface now that the party was over.
He surprised her by taking her hand in his. "I done you wrong, and I'm sorry. This here was the first Christmas dinner IVe had in twenty-five years, and I can't tell you how-" His gravelly voice dropped an octave. "How good it felt."
Tears sparkled in her eyes. "Oh, Midas ..."
His face remained earnest as he looked up at her. "Don't let no small-minded old man rattle you again-you belong here as much as any of us. Maybe more." Before she could say a word he bolted out of the door and disappeared.
She turned, instinctively wanting to share her joy with Stone Man.
He was standing in the corner with his parka and mukluks already on. His face was grim and unreadable. "Let's go."
Her balloon of happiness popped. Reality smacked her in the face, wiping away her smile. She may have won a small skirmish with Midas, but the war was still to be waged with Stone Man. Wordlessly she put on her parka and boots and followed him out the door.
They hadn't gone more than ten steps when the champagne kicked in. A flurry of bubbles burst to life in her head. She started giggling and couldn't stop.
"Oh, for God's sake," he muttered. "I knew I shouldn't let you drink that."
She tried to catch up with him, but her feet seemed huge, and her skirts kept tugging at her ankles.
He grabbed her hand, steadying her.
She grinned up at him. "Thanks."
Stone Man couldn't help himself. He smiled. She looked
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My Dev.
I
listening
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this.
Sexual congress?
need
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away, and she'd never touch him again. The thought made him feel hollow and sick inside. But he couldn't lie to her, and his silence was a lie.
Clenching his fists, he said quickly, "I spent five years in prison."
Her hand didn't even flinch. "What for?"
"Murder." He tensed, waiting for her hand to withdraw.
Instead her hold tightened.
The silence stretched between them. Stone Man felt every muscle in his body tighten. Nothing had ever shut her up before. Disgust must have rendered her speechless.
"Aren't you going to ask me?" he asked wearily.
"Ask you what?"
Christ, she must be drunk. He turned his head to look at her. What he saw stole his breath.
Understanding and unconditional acceptance radiated from the dark-green depths of her eyes.
The relief he felt was staggering. He hadn't known until that very second how much he cared what she thought of him. Her silence told him all he needed to know: She didn't believe he was a murderer.
Awe seeped into his voice and eyes. "You aren't going to ask me whether I did it?"
"I know you didn't do it."
That simple sentence, the one he'd waited all his life to hear, shattered the final remnants of his resistance.
Chapter Eighteen
She looked up at him with love in her eyes, and Stone Man was lost. Her loving gaze warmed his cold bones, and for the first time in his life he knew what it meant to be wanted.
That she didn't ask about his past struck a chord deep in his soul. In her silence was absolute trust. "Ah, Dev ..." The words were ragged, torn.<
br />
His arms came around her body, and for the first time in her life Devon knew what it felt like to be held, really held. She lay her cheek against the soft flannel of his shirt and breathed deeply of the familiar masculine scent of him.
Goodness it felt wonderful. Of course, it would be more wonderful to be held and kissed at the same time. She figured he'd get to that, and so she waited.
Unfortunately, patience wasn't something she was good at.
Besides, he was taking too darn long.
Wiggling out of his embrace, she looked up at him with what she hoped was a sultry, inviting expression on her face.
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