Mace stretched out and pressed against her back, molding his body to hers, sheltering her from the cold night air. Maggie relaxed. Secure in the knowledge that he was right there if she needed him, she gave in to the medicine and at last fell into a deep sleep.
* * * *
“Mace?”
In the midst of his dream, Maggie said his name.
“Mace?”
He heard the voice again and struggled to wake up. “Hmmm?”
“What is that clacking noise?”
“Wha…what?”
“That clacking noise…I think it’s Bigfoot smashing something.”
Half-awake, Mace burst into laughter. “Bigfoot? What the hell? Bigfoot?” He opened his eyes. It was still dark and the fire had burned down to ashes. He heard a noise coming from the beach. It sounded like two rocks being smacked together.
“That noise. Is it Bigfoot? The only animals I know of that hit things with rocks are chimps and sea otters. I don’t think river otters have anything to hit with rocks. There are no anemones up here.”
“So therefore you’ve jumped to the logical conclusion that it must be Bigfoot making that noise?”
Maggie gave a little snort of either indignation or amusement, he didn’t know which. “Yes.”
He brushed his lips against her ear. “Will it make you feel better if I look?”
She turned to face him, sliding her arm around his waist. “Only if I come with you, so I can protect you.”
His mouth against hers, he asked, “You and what army, baby?”
“I don’t need an army, Mace. Bigfoot is nonviolent.”
He kissed her, long and slow. When he lifted his head, he realized the clacking noise continued unabated. Mace sighed. After everything else we’ve seen and heard tonight, I better find out what that is. I don’t think bears smash anything with rocks, but I could be wrong. “I’m going to have a look.” Maggie started to get up, to accompany him, but he held her down. “Stay put. If I need you, I’ll yell for you.”
“But Mace…”
“No buts. Stay here. That’s an order. I’ll be back in a minute or two.”
Mace left the flashlight behind. The cloud cover had blown away and he had no problem finding his way to the shore. The full moon reflected off the water, illuminating the woods and the path. He kept quiet, his bare feet making no sound. The clacking noise grew louder, and he studied the rocky shoreline ahead, half expecting to see Maggie’s Bigfoot smashing freshwater clams or crushing crawfish, but as far as he could tell, there was nothing on the beach.
As he stood perplexed, his toes buried in cold sand, he saw a large animal slide through the water right in front of him. A big, flat tail rose from the still lagoon and smacked down with a loud clacking sound. Mace jumped. Suddenly there was another animal and another tail. It, too, smacked against the water. The noise the beavers generated sounded exactly like two stones clacking together. Mace bit back a delighted laugh when he noticed three kits following suit, with their much smaller tails. He didn’t want to scare the animals, not before Maggie had a chance to see this.
Backtracking up the path, he found Maggie sitting up beneath the tarp. “Is it Bigfoot?” She kept her voice to a whisper.
“Better. You’ve got to see this. C’mon, Maggie.” Mace pulled her to her feet and shook out the sleeping bag, wrapping it around her. He pushed her hair out of her eyes, and lifted her chin so he could look at her. “How’s the head? Do you feel well enough to walk down to the shore?”
“Yeah.” She smiled up at him. “The pain has subsided to a dull roar. I’m all right. I want to know what animal is clacking rocks together.”
“It’s not rocks.” He took her hand and guided her toward the shore. “Keep silent and watch the water.”
When their feet hit the sand, all was quiet. Mace found a big, flat rock and the two of them sat side by side, enveloped in the warmth of the sleeping bag, waiting.
“What are we waiting for?” Maggie whispered.
“Shhhhhh, patience. As I recall…” Mace wrapped an arm around her, “patience is not one of your virtues.”
Mace heard Maggie inhale. He could tell she was about to disagree with his comment, when she suddenly held her breath. A long dark shape slid through the water, followed closely by another.
“What…what on earth? What are those things, giant swimming pigs?”
As if in answer, an enormous, flat, Ping-Pong paddle-shaped tail rose from the water and smacked down with a clack. Maggie practically jumped into his lap.
“The clacking noise,” she whispered. “Beavers!” She looked at Mace. “Beavers make this kind of noise?” Another tail came down with a solid clack and three kits swam into sight. “Baby beavers! Aw, look at them, they’re so cute.”
Mace grinned at her. “You’re cooing,” he whispered.
“But they’re so damn cute. I had no idea beavers are this big. I thought they were like the size of groundhogs or something. I wondered who was chopping down these big trees. I always thought beavers just chopped down saplings.”
“Maggie?” Mace interrupted her. Her eyes were riveted on the playful beaver family.
“Yes?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
“Right now?” He ignored the question. Sliding his hand along the nape of her neck, he turned her head until she faced him. He stared at her lips. How he loved them. They were full and lush and pouty, especially when she was irritated with him.
“Yes, Maggie, right now.” He rubbed his lips over hers, reveling in the soft feel. After a moment of resistance, Maggie relaxed and parted her lips, admitting his tongue, touching the tip lightly with her own. It was a soft kiss, a tender kiss. Mace demanded nothing, he merely sought her sweetness.
When at last they separated, Maggie sighed. She leaned her head against his shoulder. She deliberately kept her eyes glued on the water, her voice very soft. “Mace, I’m sorry we’re stranded out here, but I’m so glad I’m stranded with you.”
Mace studied her profile. The setting moon set her short curls alight with silver fire. “What happened, Maggie?”
She glanced at him. “What do you mean? We’re stranded in Robert’s BWCA.”
“No, I mean, what happened? Why don’t you trust me?”
“But I do trust you, Mace. I trust you with my life. Surely you know that by now?”
He reached beneath the sleeping bag and pressed his palm against her chest. “No, Maggie. I mean, why won’t you trust me with what’s in here, with your heart?”
In the silence that followed, Maggie rested her own hand over his. At last she spoke in a voice so soft Mace strained to hear the words. “I do.”
Pulling the sleeping bag tight around them, Mace folded both her hands in his and they sat side by side on the flat rock, watching the beaver family play in the shallows, waiting for the dawn.
Chapter Eleven
Kneeling in the sand, Mace stowed the gear beneath Maggie’s seat. He rose to his feet, her life jacket in his hand. “Last push, baby, four more miles.” He helped her to put the vest on, buckled it for her, and tightened the straps. Holding Maggie at arm’s length, he studied her, trying to keep the worry out of his face. “You’re getting pretty skinny.”
Maggie’s eyes looked him over from head to toe. “You’re one to talk. I think you’ve lost a good ten pounds, maybe more.”
Mace shrugged. “Won’t kill us, at least not today. You ready?”
“Yup. Said good-bye to the beavers, made sure the fire’s completely dead. I’m as ready as I’m gonna be.” She caught his arm. “Mace, we’ll make it back today, right?”
“Yes, Maggie.” He gathered her into his arms. “We’ll make it back today. I promise.”
“Good, because not only am I running out of gas, I’ll be out of headache pills. To keep this one at bay, I’m going to have to take two pain pills every four hours. You know…” she lifted her head and smiled at him, “if someone asks what we survived on, I c
an answer, unfiltered water, pain pills, and pure, unadulterated lust.”
“Works for me.” Mace laughed. “C’mon, let’s shove off. If you look over there, you can see that the wind’s kicking up from the south and we’ll be paddling directly into it. This afternoon, it could be a real bitch and I want us long gone by then.”
Together they pushed the canoe down the beach and launched it into the shallows. While Mace stabilized it, Maggie climbed into the front. He climbed in the back and shoved off. As they paddled along the quiet waters of the channel, Mace prepared himself for the power of the south wind. From what he could tell, it looked to be blowing about ten to fifteen knots. It would be a slog, but at least they wouldn’t be broadside to the wind and the waves.
Once we pass Windy Point, the wave action should decrease. There’s not enough water in that narrow channel for the wind to churn up. It’ll get easier. It better get easier because Maggie’s going to hit the wall and I won’t be far behind.
“Maggie, keep your eyes peeled for any sign of human life, campers, canoeists, fishermen, anyone who might be able to help, who maybe has a cell phone.”
“And food,” she called back.
“Shit yeah,” Mace replied. “Food would be nice.”
They paddled past the headland and the wind caught them, pushing them sideways, but Mace dug his paddle into the waves while Maggie switched hers to the starboard side, and together they turned the Grumman and headed upwind, directly for Windy Point and their best hope of rescue.
* * * *
Four hours to reach Windy Point, what a fucking bitch this canoe is. Maggie no longer noticed the ache in her arms. She’d begun to ignore that the first day. Nor did she care about her throbbing toe. There was nothing she could do about it anyway. No, it was Mace she worried about. They’d been running at least a six-thousand-calorie deficit every day since the trip started and neither of them had eaten much the day before they left. It was one thing for Maggie to fast; as a woman, she had some fat reserves. Mace was another story. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on the guy, especially now. And he’d been working his ass off; they’d both been working their asses off.
We need to find help, and it has to be soon. I’m about to hit the wall and Mace can’t paddle for both of us.
“Maggie.” It was the first word Mace had spoken since they’d emerged from the protected channel and hit the south wind. “We’re out of the worst of it. We may have to fight the wind, but the volume of water in this channel is less, so we won’t have the big waves.”
She nodded her understanding, too tired to reply.
“I think we should stop,” he said. “There’s a place on the shore to the right, looks like a campsite. I think we need to take a break, maybe close our eyes for an hour or so.”
Maggie cast a quick glance over her shoulder, her paddle still working. “No. Mace, I’m afraid if we stop, we won’t be able to start again.”
“How’s your head?”
She told the truth. “Pretty bad.”
“We’re stopping. It’s time for you to take a couple pills anyway and I need you strong enough to paddle. I can’t do this alone, Maggie.”
“Maybe you should do it alone, go for help, and come back for me.”
“Fuck. No. We go together or we stay here together and wait for help. I’m not leaving you, and if I hear you suggest anything so idiotic again I’ll turn you over my knee.”
Maggie managed a grin. “Is that a promise or a threat?”
“A promise. And when I make a promise, I keep it.”
Maggie laughed. “Sounds promising. All right, we can stop, but for one hour. I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep and I won’t get up again.”
“You’ll get up again, Maggie.”
“Is that another promise?”
“Hell yes.”
“Okay then, let’s go.”
The starboard shore was protected from the wind. The beach was small, too small for the canoe, but Maggie didn’t have the strength to help Mace pull it out of the waves. She crawled up the bank, clutching a water bottle, swallowed the pills, and curled up on her side in the grass. Man, starvation makes you tired. I don’t know how the contestants on Survivor do it.
* * * *
By the time Mace secured the canoe and climbed the bank, Maggie had already dozed off. Nearly as exhausted as she was, he lowered himself into the grass beside her. He pulled her head into his lap and stroked her hair. She whimpered like a little kitten, but her eyes stayed closed. I have to get her out of here. Where the hell is everyone? I can’t believe we haven’t seen a soul in three days.
Mace answered his own question. The weather’s been shit and it’s only Wednesday. Most of the fishermen and recreational boaters won’t be out on the water until Friday, if the weather improves, that is.
As weary as he’d ever been in his life, Mace closed his eyes. At least it’s not raining today. A drop hit his upturned face. Fuck. I spoke too soon. He opened his eyes and checked the sky. It looked like the squall would be short and sweet, but the last thing he and Maggie needed right now was another case of hypothermia. Rousing Maggie, he half-dragged her into a thick grove of trees. He ran back to the canoe and ripped the tarp out of the waterproof pack, then flipped the canoe over to keep everything dry. Reaching Maggie just as the clouds opened and the rain began to fall in sheets, he wrapped them both in the tarp, tucking the ends beneath them so they wouldn’t have to sit on the wet ground.
“Seems par for the course,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact. She leaned her head on his shoulder. “This would really suck if we were out on the water.”
Mace didn’t reply, he merely pulled the tarp farther over their heads so the water running down the plastic would drip away from their legs.
“You know the first day, when we were struggling to keep up with Robert and Patty, and they left us in the dust without a second thought?”
He nodded.
“I know this sounds awful and crazy, but I spent the entire day thinking of all the ways I’d like to kill them.”
Mace bit back a laugh. He’d just spent three days trying not to imagine all the ways he would kill them. “You weren’t thinking of all the ways you wanted to kill me?”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Of course not. I mean, sure, we were flailing, and we didn’t work together at first, but no, I wasn’t pissed off at you. None of this is your fault.” She flashed him a brief smile. “No, Mace, I believe in giving credit where credit is due, and you don’t deserve any credit for this misadventure.”
“Do you still want to kill them?”
“No, I don’t want to kill them. Weird as it seems, I haven’t really thought about them since that first night, since you saved my life. They’ve become nothing more than background noise, like this rain.” She turned to Mace. “They don’t matter. Robert and Patty don’t matter to me.”
“What does matter?”
In the silence that followed his question, Mace concentrated on the drumming of rain on the tarp. He felt the delicate touch of her fingers along his cheek. “You matter, Mace, only you.”
His heart thudded in his chest. “Is that the ketosis talking, Maggie?”
“No, it’s me talking, Maggie Anderson, the woman who hasn’t trusted a man since she was five years old, and the truth is, that no longer matters either. I’ve…Mace Williams, I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Without a word, Mace dropped the tarp. Oblivious of the falling rain, he pulled Maggie to her feet. Gripping her by her shoulders, his eyes sought hers. Has time come to a standstill, or can I really see every single drop of water clinging to her long lashes? “Maggie, say it again.”
“Say what?” Her smile teased him. “That I’m not mad at my father, or that I no longer want to kill Robert and Patty?”
“No, tell me you love me.” His lips descended upon hers and he took his sweet time ravaging her mouth.
When he finally let her go, Maggie cleared her throat. He
r voice was hoarse. “I find it difficult to speak when you’re kissing me.”
“Let me make it easy for you. I love you, Maggie. I fell in love with you that first night.” He paused. “No, that’s not true. The moment I saw you sitting in the airport, I wanted to fuck your brains out.” She opened her mouth to speak, but Mace slid a finger under her chin and closed it for her. “It was on the flight, when that man died, and you were so cool and collected, so calm under pressure, that I knew I could fall head over heels for a woman like you. When we ended up together in the apartment and you made me that offer, Christ, it would have taken an army to drag me away.”
Maggie twined her hands around his neck, oblivious of the rain that streamed down her cheeks. “That seems so long ago, like it all happened in another lifetime.”
They stood close together in the rain, silent, the warmth of their bodies keeping the cold at bay. When at last the rain stopped, Mace lifted his head. “We have to get going, baby.”
“Yes, I know.”
Mace lifted the tarp to shake the water from it. Maggie grabbed the opposite edges and helped him. They folded it into a neat package. Mace carried it under his arm as he assisted Maggie down the muddy bank to the canoe. Together they righted the canoe and stowed their gear.
After stopping to clean the mud from her arms and legs, Maggie waded into the water and climbed into the bow. Mace shoved off and they paddled toward the portage. There will be someone to help us, and tonight we’ll eat and drink and fuck until we drop and god help Robert and Patty, wherever the hell they are.
Chapter Twelve
Maggie brushed the hair from her face. The south wind had dried her curls, but swirling gusts kept blowing them back into her eyes. She’d hit the wall about thirty minutes before, but still her arm kept moving, automatically dipping the paddle into the water over and over, as Mace guided the canoe through an archipelago of small islands. She searched the shore for the portage. It has to be somewhere around here. She turned her gaze forward.
Barrett, Julia Rachel - Pushing Her Boundaries (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 14