Only Love

by Elizabeth Lowell

  “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.

  20

  TORN 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.r />
  “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.”

  Shannon’s breath caught.

  “And that’s just what I do each time,” Whip said bitterly. “I lock myself inside you and the honey flows and the fire burns and nothing else is real. No sorrow, no pain, no thought, nothing but you and me and the kind of white-hot pleasure I’ll die remembering.”

  “It’s the same for me,” Shannon said against Whip’s mouth. “Be a part of me, Whip. I love the way it feels when you’re deep inside me.”

  “Haven’t you been listening? It’s not safe! I don’t trust myself not to make you pregnant!”

  A shudder went through Shannon, hunger and grief combined.

  A baby.

  God, I want Whip’s child. But he doesn’t want to leave that much of himself behind.

  Then Shannon remembered Cherokee’s odd gift.

  “Cherokee gave me something so I wouldn’t conceive,” Shannon said huskily.

  “What?” Whip asked, startled.

  “Over there.” Shannon pointed. “On the shelf. The vial and the little bag.”

  Whip gave her a strange look. Then he stood with swift grace and went to the shelf. Carefully he opened the bag and tipped it over his open hand. Tiny scraps of sponge rustled onto his palm. He took the stopper out of the vial and sniffed. His eyes widened as he smelled jumper and spearmint combined, plus a whiff of something sharp he couldn’t name.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said.

  “But I don’t know what to do with any of it,” Shannon said. “Do you?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, good,” she said, relieved. “What do I do?”

  Whip selected a sponge, doused it thoroughly with the pungent oil and turned toward Shannon with a lazy, very male smile.

  “I’ll show you,” he said.

  She blinked, startled by Whip’s transformation. Gone was the wildness of an animal brought to bay. His elemental hunger and his certainty of ecstasy were all but tangible.

  “Don’t be nervous, honey girl. You’ll love learning how to use this. And I’ll love showing you.”

  “WHIP?” Shannon called up the ridge from the cabin doorway. “Lunch is ready. Are you finished dressing out that elk yet?”