Only Love

by Elizabeth Lowell

  Shannon was in the living room, sitting by a window in one of the chairs Caleb had made. In her hands was one of Willow’s gingham blouses. Shannon was making tiny, neat stitches in the sleeve where the seam had given way.

  “Where’s Willy?” Whip asked.

  “She’s taking a nap with Ethan.”

  Whip smiled almost sheepishly. “Cal told me that we woke Ethan up with our dancing last night.”

  Pink brightened Shannon’s cheeks, put there by the memory of Whip’s hard kiss and even harder body.

  “Ethan wasn’t awake for long,” Shannon said. “He went right back to sleep when Willow sang to him. She has such a beautiful voice.”

  “You should hear her sing with Reno and Eve,” Whip said, smiling. “Together they have the kind of harmony that would make angels weep with envy. Christmas was a special time last year, with all of us being together and the carols being so beautifully sung.”

  “It must have been wonderful,” Shannon said, her voice wistful.

  Whip looked at Shannon. Her face looked less drawn now than it had a week ago. So did her body. Sitting in the sturdy house with mending in her hands and a glass window nearby with sunlight shining through, she was as relaxed as a cat lying next to a warm hearth.

  “You like it here, don’t you?” Whip asked.

  “It would be hard not to. Caleb and Willow are generous with their hearts and their home. Seeing them makes me realize how much my parents missed in their marriage.”

  “Reno and Eve are the same as Cal and Willy. So are Wolfe and Jessi. Must be something in the western air.”

  Shannon glanced away from Whip, not wanting him to see the emotion in her eyes when she looked at him and thought of a home, a marriage, a sharing of life and love and children with Whip.

  But that wouldn’t happen. Shannon knew it as surely as she knew that Whip was a yondering man. Yet she couldn’t stop loving him.

  So she looked away from what she knew she couldn’t have.

  But Shannon didn’t turn aside quickly enough. Whip had already seen her dreams. He had seen the hope she couldn’t deny, and the love, and the sadness of knowing that someday he would leave her. The fact that Shannon didn’t scold him or demand his love in return made Whip feel more trapped and restless than ever—and at the same time, it made him want her until every muscle in his body was flexed in the brutal tug-of-war between restraint and consummation.

  Whip glanced quickly at the hallway that led to the bedrooms. The door to the nursery was closed. So was the door to Willow and Caleb’s bedroom.

  Knowing he shouldn’t, unable to stop himself, Whip crossed the living room with a few swift strides, took the mending from Shannon’s hands, and lifted her without warning into his arms. He was rougher than he meant to be, because he was hungrier than he had known.

  “Whip?” Shannon asked, startled.

  “Don’t fight me. Kiss me and let me kiss you. Let me have you, even if only in this way.”

  Shannon’s lips were still parted in surprise when Whip took her mouth. His tongue shot between her teeth and he groaned when he tasted the minty flavor and sultry textures of her tongue. She made a small sound in response and lifted herself toward Whip’s kiss, giving her mouth to him with a hot sensual honesty that made him ache.

  Whip pushed deeper and deeper into Shannon’s sweet mouth, wanting all of her, wanting it here and now, hot and wild, burning him all the way to his soul. The sounds she made deep in her throat, the eager glide of her tongue against his, and the hungry arc of her body pressed against his erect flesh all told Whip that Shannon wanted him the same way he wanted her; hot and wild, here and now, no promises and no regrets, nothing but the driving rhythms of their bodies locked together in elemental hunger…honey and ecstasy and flames twisting together, burning.

  With a low cry Whip tore his mouth free of Shannon ’s, knowing that kissing her any more was like throwing alcohol on a raging fire. But it was too late to stop the blaze that had been ignited. Already he was stretched upon a white-hot rack of desire. He was shaking, burning, control slipping from his grasp one savage heartbeat at a time.

  “God, woman,” Whip said roughly, muffling his voice against Shannon’s neck. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know,” he interrupted, his voice raw and low. “My fault. I should know by now that kissing you only makes it hurt worse. But when I’m not kissing you I can’t believe that anything can hurt worse than that.”

  Shannon felt the raking shudder that went through Whip. She caught his tormented face between her hands and kissed him lightly, gently, repeatedly, wanting to take the pain and darkness from his face, from his body.

  Whip shuddered again, fighting for control.

  “Every time I look across the room and see your eyes watching me,” he said in a low, uneven voice, “I know what you’re thinking, what you’re remembering, what you’re feeling. Your eyes tell me that you would lie down and hold out your arms and give me everything I need. And I need you, Shannon. I need you until I wake up sweating and hard and aching from forehead to heels. But I can’t take you and I can’t stop wanting you and I’m on fire!”

  “Hush,” Shannon murmured between tender kisses. “It’s all right, yondering man. It’s all right. You can take me and end the aching and not have to give up the sunrise you’ve never seen.”

  Shannon’s brushing kisses, like her words, were both gentle and deeply beautiful to Whip, a stark temptation and an equally stark admission of her love. He knew he should stop the words and the kisses and the promises that could not, must not, be kept.

  But Whip could no more turn away from the gentle, terrifying beauty of Shannon’s caresses than he could turn away from a sunrise softly condensing out of winter’s longest night, radiance calling his name in all the colors of love.

  “Shannon,” Whip whispered. “Honey girl. Stop. You’re tearing me apart.”

  “Then tell me what to do. I want to ease you, not hurt you more. Please, Whip. Tell me. Teach me.”

  The thought of it almost brought Whip to his knees. A bolt of violent desire transfixed his body and dragged a raw sound from deep in his chest. He closed his eyes and grappled with a kind of hunger he had never felt for a woman. Like Shannon’s words and kisses, the depth of his hunger was an unimaginable lure and a shocking warning of his own frail hold on self-control.

  “Whip?” Shannon whispered. “Please. Teach me.”

  With his last shreds of restraint, Whip reminded himself that he was in the living room of his sister’s home. It was full daylight. Willow could awaken from her nap at any time and walk into the room.

  “No,” Whip said roughly, setting Shannon abruptly away from him. “Don’t ask me. Don’t tempt me. Don’t—”

  “But you were the one who—”

  “—tell me that you would let me open those men’s trousers of yours and put my hand between your legs and feel your honey pooling in my hand like silky fire. Don’t tell me it would be all right to unfasten my pants and push all my need and my aching and my hunger deep into you. Don’t tell me you would let me take your maidenhead.”

  Shannon tried to speak but couldn’t. The thought of having Whip so much a part of her made her feel hot and cold and shaking with a need she couldn’t name.

  And Whip saw it, all of it, the hunger and the need.

  “Hell, you would beg me,” he said, “because I can make you ache as much as I do right now. I can make the honey flow and the fire burn and—”

  The sound of a door opening down the hallway cut off Whip’s seething words. He flinched as though a lash had been laid across his shoulders.

  “Caleb?” Willow called softly from the hall.

  “Just me, Willy,” Whip said, his voice low and rough.

  Abruptly he moved so that Shannon was between him and the doorway where Willow would soon be.

  “I was just talking to Shannon about that position you offered,” h
e said.

  Willow appeared at the entrance to the living room. Her hair was mussed by sleep. She was rubbing her eyes and trying not to yawn.

  “Oh, good,” Willow said, looking past Shannon to Whip. “Do you need anything?”

  “No,” Whip said, smiling through his clenched teeth.

  Willow yawned behind her hand.

  “Wonderful,” she murmured. “I think I’ll sneak off to the bathhouse before I start dinner. Would you mind watching Ethan while I’m outside?”

  “Not at all,” Shannon said quickly.

  “Thank you,” Willow said, covering a yawn again. “I’ll hurry.”

  “No need,” Shannon said. “I started the stew while you slept. If Ethan wakes up, I’ll hold him at bay with some cow’s milk from the well house.”

  “You’re an angel.”

  Shannon thought of what Whip had been saying to her and how she not only had listened, but had felt her bones turn to fire at his words. She had never wanted to feel a man’s body locked deep within her own until she met Whip.

  Now she wanted nothing else.

  “An angel?” Shannon asked with a bittersweet smile, looking with helpless hunger at Whip. “Hardly.”

  But Willow had already vanished back into her bedroom. She reappeared a few moments later with a change of clothes in her hand.

  “I won’t be long,” Willow repeated.

  “Don’t rush,” Shannon said. “There’s nothing here that won’t keep for a while, including your son.”

  Whip watched Willow leave, grateful that his sister was too sleepy and too hurried to notice the blunt ridge of his arousal thrusting against his trousers.

  Thank God I’ve solved the problem of Shannon’s safety, Whip told himself savagely. I don’t think I can keep my hands off her any longer.

  It’s time and past time to find a sunrise that is more beautiful than Shannon’s eyes when she looks at me.

  “Don’t worry about your things,” Whip said abruptly to Shannon. “Cal or one of his men will help you fetch them when you go back for Prettyface. If you wait a week or two, that hardheaded son of a bitch will be able to walk on his own rather than being slung over your saddle.”

  Shannon blinked and shook her head, feeling as if she had just awakened into someone else’s dream.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked. “Even if we wait a fortnight to go back to my cabin, I don’t need any more clothes.”

  What Shannon didn’t say was that there weren’t any more clothes at the cabin, whether or not she needed them.

  “And why would I bring Prettyface here anyway?” she added, perplexed.

  “I thought you’d want to keep him,” Whip said. “Cal and Willy say it’s fine with them. They’ve been trying to get a dog that was big enough and tough enough to survive the wolves and Texas longhorns and winter winds, but they haven’t had much luck.”

  “Of course I’m going to keep Prettyface! What on earth are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you coming here to help Willy out. She needs it and the two of you get along better than sisters and—”

  “No.”

  “—you can’t keep living in that goddamn rickety shack off in the back end of nowhere and we both know it!”

  “No.”

  “It’s not safe!” Whip said savagely. “You have to—”

  “No.”

  “—leave!”

  “No.”

  Whip reached for Shannon with stunning speed. Before she knew what had happened, she was jerked off her feet and brought to Whip’s eye level.

  It wasn’t a comforting place to be. His eyes were pale, glittering, dilated with rage, the eyes of a trapped animal.

  “Yes,” Whip snarled.

  Shannon flinched but didn’t back down.

  “No.”

  The word was soft, final. The words that followed were equally soft, equally final.

  “I have a right to live as I want to,” she said.

  “Or die,” Whip shot back.

  “Or die,” she agreed.

  His hands tightened harshly on Shannon’s arms, but she didn’t protest. Whatever pain she felt was nothing compared to the anguished fury driving Whip.

  “You’re trying to tie me down,” he said through his teeth. “You think I won’t leave until I know you’re safe.”

  “No,” Shannon said quietly. “You’re trying to tie me down and make me live the way you want me to.”

  “Damn it, you’re twisting my words!”

  “Am I? I know you’ll leave me, Whip. I’ve known it from the first time I heard you talking about the sunrise you’ve never seen. ‘Nothing is more beautiful. Nothing is more compelling.’”

  “Shannon, honey girl, I—”

  “No,” she whispered, stopping his words by brushing her lips just once over his. “I believed you then. I believe you now. You will leave. And I will stay in my cabin.”

  “I won’t let you.”

  “Yondering man, you can’t stop me.”

  Whip closed his eyes. His mouth was flattened, his lips pale.

  “You’re tearing me apart,” he said in an anguished whisper.

  “I’m just—”

  Whip talked over Shannon’s words, trying to make her understand.

  “I want you. I want you like I’ve never wanted anything—except the sunrise I’ve never seen. I can have one or I can have the other. Do you know how it feels to be torn apart like that?” he demanded in despair and rage. “I would tear the soul out of my body if it meant an end to this pain!”

  Tears burned behind Shannon’s eyes, gathered in her lashes, and slid hotly down her cheeks.

  “I would do the same,” she whispered. “But you can have what you want most, Whip. Freedom. I’m not baiting any traps or building any cages with you in mind.”

  “The hell you aren’t,” he said roughly. “I have to know you’re safe.”

  “And I have to know I’m free! Like you, yondering man. Free as the sunrise.”

  “You can’t be. It’s not the same for a woman.”

  “Not for a married woman, no. But I’m not married.”

  Whip opened his eyes and saw the tears in Shannon’s.

  “Honey girl, don’t cry. I never meant to hurt you.”

  “And I never meant to tear you apart,” Shannon whispered. “All I ever asked you to do was dig gold for me. Since that’s too much tying down for you to live with, just ride on and find that sunrise you hunger for so much. Ride on and leave me be.”

  “I can’t,” he said simply. “Not until I know you’re safe.”

  “You have to.”

  “Shannon—”

  “If you stay, you’ll hate me,” she interrupted starkly. “I’d rather die, Whip.”

  “And that’s just what you’ll do if you go back to that damned shack!”

  “My choice, Whip. Not yours.”

  Slowly Whip lowered Shannon to the floor. Then he removed his hands from her arms, turned his back, and went out the front door without another word.

  SHANNON looked over the dinner table, checking that everything was where it should be. Normally she wouldn’t have worried, but normally she wouldn’t be feeling used up and wrung out like an old rag. Already she had dropped a spoon, spilled coffee, and scorched her fingers adding wood to the fire.

  “Thunderation,” she muttered, using one of Cherokee’s favorite phrases. “I forgot the plates.”

  If Willow noticed Shannon’s unexpected clumsiness, nothing was said about it. But Willow had her hands full with Ethan at the moment. He was hollering from his crib, outraged that his mother wouldn’t let him polish his walking skills in the kitchen, careening from sink to table and back again, with a heart-stopping run at the wood stove in between.

  “Blazes, but that boy is quick,” Willow said, coming back into the kitchen.

  “He has Caleb’s speed,” Shannon agreed. “Along with his amber eyes. And a dimple at the corner of his smil
e that is just like Whip’s.”

  Willow smiled. “If Ethan grows up one half as handsome as his daddy or his uncle, all the girls in Colorado Territory will beat a path to our door. How is the stew coming along?”

  “It’s ready.”

  “Good. I saw Caleb walking in from the barn when I put Ethan in his crib.”

  “Was Whip with him?”

  “No, but he won’t be far behind. In case you hadn’t noticed, my brother likes home cooking.”

  Shannon ducked her head so that Willow couldn’t see the sudden gleam of tears.

  What’s wrong with me? Shannon asked herself grimly. I know better than to cry. It’s a waste of salt and effort.

  “I noticed,” Shannon said in a muffled voice. “So long as it isn’t his home, of course. Is the bread cool enough to slice yet?”

  “Should be. Mark my words, though. Whip will complain that there aren’t any biscuits.”

  “No, he won’t,” Caleb said, closing the kitchen door behind him. “He left a few hours ago.”

  Shannon went very still.

  “Left?” Willow asked, turning away from the stove. “Where did he go?”

  “To see Reno.”

  “Oh.” Willow frowned and went back to spooning stew into a big wooden serving bowl. “Odd that he didn’t say anything to me. That’s not like him.”

  Caleb’s whiskey-colored eyes focused on the slender girl whose hair was the color of autumn.

  “Did he say anything to you?” Caleb asked Shannon bluntly.

  “No. But then, he’s a yondering man.”

  “That doesn’t excuse bad manners,” Willow said. “I declare, for all the customs in all the countries of the world Whip has learned, he should know better.”

  Caleb hadn’t stopped looking at Shannon. There was the same tension around her mouth, the same darkness in her eyes, that there had been in Whip’s. Caleb had spent several hours thinking about how Whip had looked, and whether anything should be said about it.

  He had decided it should.

  “I understand Whip did some digging on your gold claims,” Caleb said.