Only Love

by Elizabeth Lowell

  “Oh, my,” Shannon said. “Those needles must be something!”

  “They were a doorway to hell,” Whip said curtly.

  Shannon looked at Whip, shocked.

  “The mine came down around my ears,” Reno explained. “Eve and Whip damn near died digging me out.”

  Shannon went pale. She touched Whip’s sun-bright hair with fingers that trembled.

  “I don’t want gold that much,” she said starkly.

  “It’s all right, honey girl,” Whip said, brushing his lips over her hand.

  “A cave-in won’t be a problem up Avalanche Creek,” Reno said. “It’s hard rock all the way. The old Spanish mine wasn’t.”

  “How do you know about Avalanche Creek?” Shannon asked.

  “Silent John wasn’t the first man to see a gleam of gold dust in the creek and follow it back up the peak.”

  “Did you find gold?” she asked eagerly.

  Reno made a neutral sound. “Some.”

  “How much is ‘some’?” Shannon persisted.

  “Not much,” Whip said succinctly. “Otherwise Reno wouldn’t have risked his butt in the Spanish mine.”

  “Oh,” Shannon said, disappointed.

  “But I wasn’t looking all that hard,” Reno said kindly.

  “This time will be different,” Whip said.

  Reno raised his eyebrows at the certainty in Whip’s voice. A look at his brother’s pale silver eyes told Reno that questions wouldn’t be appreciated.

  GOLD was the subject during the quick lunch the three of them ate, and gold was discussed at every opportunity along the trail to Rifle Sight claim. Sweat gleamed on the horses and mules, for Whip was holding to a very hard pace.

  Sunlight followed them every step of the way, its blazing warmth as golden as the metal they pursued. Grizzly Meadow was hot. It brimmed with wildflowers and the songs of hidden birds. Both men examined the area carefully, but found no fresh evidence that a grizzly had been there. Relieved, they quickly set up camp.

  “Plenty of deer sign around,” Reno said. “If there’s any light left after you show me the claim, why don’t you hunt? Winters are long up here.”

  Whip heard what Reno didn’t say—Shannon would need every bit of meat she could get in order to survive the season of storm and ice.

  While Shannon began preparing supper, the two men went quickly to the claim. The sky was already turning color, hinting at the glorious sunset to come.

  It didn’t take Reno long to look over the mine. There was little to look at.

  “Any other runnels?” Reno asked as he emerged from the shallow hole in the mountain, a lantern in his hand.

  “Not that I’ve found,” Whip said. “And yes, I looked carefully.”

  “I believe you. A man looking for freedom is real careful.”

  Whip’s mouth flattened, but he didn’t deny what Reno was saying.

  “The gold is for Shannon,” Whip said.

  “Uh huh. Regular little gold digger, that one.”

  “Damn it, Reno—”

  “Put your ruff down,” Reno interrupted calmly. “We both know the gold is as much for your freedom as for Shannon’s security. If you can’t stand hearing the truth, then maybe you better take a long look at what you’re doing.”

  Whip gave his brother a cold, level stare. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Reno shrugged. “I thought I did, too, last autumn. Then you dumped a saddlebag full of pure gold bars at my feet and told me I was a goddamned fool.”

  “And you’re thinking I’m the fool now, is that it?”

  “I’m thinking that’s one fine woman whose heart you’re going to break. Too bad she was a virgin. That will make it harder when—”

  “It’s none of your business,” Whip interrupted, his voice flat, dangerous.

  “The hell you say. I’m the one finding gold so you can pay off your conscience and go back to chasing sunrises.”

  Whip shifted his stance slightly, menacingly.

  Reno’s answering smile was as narrow as his eyes.

  “That’s it,” Reno goaded. “Jump me. Maybe I can pound some sense into your thick skull. Sure as hell someone should.”

  “Pound rock. It’s softer.”

  “Smarter, too.”

  Abruptly Reno turned away, cutting off whatever Whip had been about to say.

  “Three days ago I would have given you the fight you want,” Reno said over his shoulder. “But I’m slam out of patience at the moment. I’m going back to camp before I lay my revolver along your thick skull. Shannon doesn’t need a bloodied, banged-up yondering idiot to worry about. Her worry plate is plumb full as it is.”

  WHEN Shannon awoke, the stars were just fading from the sky. In the distance she heard the murmur of male voices. There was no crackle of campfire or smell of coffee in the crisp air.

  “Whip? Reno?” she called. “Do you want breakfast?”

  “Go back to sleep,” Whip called. “Reno and I are just talking about the claims. I’ll wake you when it’s time to start back to the cabin.”

  Sighing, Shannon rolled over and pulled the blankets up to her eyebrows. Nights were always chilly in the high country. More than once during the darkness she had wished for the warmth and comfort of Whip holding her close while she slept. It had been so easy to get used to the luxury of his presence.

  Whip had set up his bedroll across the campfire, where his brother slept. Prettyface had kept Shannon company, but not for long. The dog preferred not to sleep near the campfire, as though the bright flames and pungent smoke dulled his canine senses. He kept to the perimeter of the camp, well away from the people he guarded so carefully.

  When Whip walked past Prettyface on the way back to camp, the dog lifted his huge, blunt head and thumped his tail against the ground several times in silent greeting.

  “Your mistress is still sleeping, isn’t she?” Whip asked softly. “Good. I could use a little rest myself. Didn’t sleep worth a damn last night. Stay here and guard us.”

  Soundlessly Whip went to the place where Shannon was. He took off his heavy jacket and slid beneath the blankets, stretching out next to her. Shannon murmured sleepily and turned toward him, burrowing into his warmth, nuzzling against him, sighing.

  At first Whip thought that she had awakened. Then he felt the utter relaxation of her body and knew that she was deeply asleep. The realization that Shannon turned toward him even when she was asleep was like a silver needle of emotion stitching through Whip’s soul, pain and pleasure combined.

  Shannon, don’t love me. I don’t want to hurt you, honey girl.

  The only answer that came was the smell of spearmint and woman combined.

  Whip’s heart turned over and his body hardened in a savage rush. He knew he couldn’t stay with Shannon for much longer…but he could make a lifetime of every moment they had together.

  Slowly Whip eased beneath the blankets, breathing deeply of warm, woman-scented air.

  I would love to kiss those sweet breasts, but I shouldn’t wake her.

  Even as Whip told himself that Shannon needed sleep more than she needed loving, his hands were moving over her old, painfully clean shirt.

  Silk and lace lay warmly beneath, shocking in their femininity after the man’s shirt.

  What the hell…! Where did she get this?

  Long fingers untied silk bows one by one. But it was Whip’s mouth rather than his hands that moved the silk aside, discovering the even softer silk of Shannon’s skin.

  Shannon murmured and sighed and shifted, lifting herself to his kisses.

  Whip hesitated and asked very softly. “Shannon?”

  Her only answer was a sigh. Except for the subtle tightening of her nipples beneath his lips, her body was still completely relaxed, trusting him in a way no one ever had.

  Even himself.

  Honey girl, how am I going to live without you?

  His tongue touched the tip of each breast. The velvety hardness of Shanno
n’s nipples teased his lips, silently asking for another kind of caress. He gave it to her softly, delicately, holding her within his warmth even as he tugged her nipples to hard peaks with his mouth.

  Shannon’s body moved languidly, held between the heat of Whip’s caresses and the growing heat of her dreams.

  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.

  * * *

  THE 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.