White Dawn

by Susan Edwards

  John glanced over. “Loving he might be, but make no mistake. He’s still a wild animal. The nature of the wolf runs in his blood.” John grabbed a hunk of the beast’s ruff and gave a tug.

  Emily frowned. “Are you saying he could turn?”

  John paused. “Don’t think he’d ever turn on me or you. Since I found him as a young pup barely able to scamper about, he’s bonded with humans. At least ones he knows. But don’t forget the call of the wild runs deep. There might come a day when he gives in to it—decides to leave and go live with his own kind.”

  “I hope not.” She knew John would miss Pang. When he and the wolf started back in on a game of tug-of-war with the crutch, Emily stepped between them.

  “This is not taking it easy, Mr. Cartier,” she scolded between giggles. “Not to mention that you’re getting that bandage dirty.” As it still needed to be changed twice a day, he had continued to wear his one-legged buckskins. Using her foot, Emily scooted the wolf out of her way.

  John glanced up at her, his eyes sparkling with merriment. The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Yes, Miss Emily,” he said, trying to sound like a properly chastised schoolboy.

  “Don’t try that look with me. It won’t work. You’re no little boy.”

  “No?” He grinned. “What am I, Sunshine?” The world seemed to stop as they stared at one another.

  “A handsome man,” she said softly, unable to stop herself.

  The golden sunlight slid over the slightly paler skin of his freshly shaved jaw—he’d taken off the beard this morning—and his strong white teeth flashed. The wicked humor in his eyes, and the wide grin, made him all the more appealing. And heart-stoppingly, breath-takingly handsome, not in a pretty, polished sort of way, or with the molded perfection of her golden warrior, but something grander.

  Without his beard, the rugged strength was even more apparent in his strong jawline, and his firm chin had a deep cleft that fit the rest of his face. Also, to her surprise and pleasure, she’d discovered that he had one dimple in his left cheek that remained hidden until he grinned. Then that small little indent softened his features and gave him a boyish look. Like now. Still, she refused to let him know just how weak it made her when he grinned up at her like that.

  Fang barked, breaking the spell as he hopped between them, his tail wagging furiously and his tongue lolling happily. Without warning, John reached forward and tried to grab one of the wolf’s legs with his hand. The beast nimbly hopped back, balancing on his two back legs.

  It amazed Emily that the wolf didn’t seem the least bit hampered by his missing limb. Before they could start their silly game over again, Emily chased Fang off and shook her finger at John. “Enough. You’ll just rile him even more.”

  And wasn’t that the truth? Their play would get rougher as both man and beast sought to be the victor in their wrestling matches. The first time she’d seen John pull one of the wolf’s feet out from beneath him, she’d been incensed on the animal’s behalf. Then she realized it was a game.

  Her lips twitched. Fang didn’t need her sympathy. She’d never seen an animal so nimble. And now the wolf assumed that the pair of crutches John used was there for his own entertainment—he’d proved equally adept at tripping John up.

  John grinned at her. “It’s good for him—keeps him alert. Besides, he likes it.”

  Her lips twitched as she fought a smile. “You are incorrigible.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He held up his hand. “Join me, Emily. Let’s sit a bit.”

  His boyish look faded, and John became all man again. All desirable man with a love of life glowing from deep within—joy, and an inner peace she envied. One that could be hers if she reached out and took what he offered.

  I can’t. Over and over she had to warn herself not to get involved. Too risky. She just couldn’t take the chance. Yet she couldn’t resist taking his hand and allowing him to ease her down beside him. He gazed out across the water, and she found she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  Without the beard, John Cartier looked younger, more carefree. And yet, at the same time, the strong lines of his face warned that this was a man who lived on the edge. A man who knew what he was about. A man who was strong and who had enough strength to share. As Emily had learned firsthand.

  Staring at his face, she realized that his mouth gave insight into his character. The fullness of his lips and his easy smiles spoke of the humor and compassion that were part of him. Yet, of all his features, John’s eyes were her favorite. Like his dimple, when he laughed or smiled, his eyes softened his face and revealed his true personality. When he was worried or in pain, those eyes showed his vulnerability. And when he was determined—as he’d been when she’d wanted to die—his eyes were hard. This was not a man to be crossed.

  As she’d quickly discovered, everything he felt was mirrored in his face. All she had to do was look into his eyes to know what he was feeling. That made him human. Approachable. Safe.

  “It’s so beautiful out here,” she said. Nature and man. The combination was powerful—something she feared she’d have a hard time resisting. John glanced down at her. The humor in his eyes had been replaced by an appreciation for the world around them. Their whiskey-colored depths darkened as they roamed over her features.

  “Sure is,” he agreed, his voice husky.

  Ducking her head as heat crept up her cheeks, Emily felt her heart thud in response. It didn’t take much for him to cause that; even his nicknames pleased her. Lady Dawn. Or Sunshine. Each evoked powerful images, and to be compared to either was flattering. It made it difficult as she tried hard to not let her heart become involved.

  As they sat, soaking up the quiet peace of the afternoon, Emily didn’t feel the need to chatter. With John it didn’t feel awkward just to sit without having to talk. She felt a soothing companionship in just being with him.

  He was so different, had so many facets to his personality, and he shared them all with her. His humor lifted her spirits, and gave her a taste of what it was like to live each day with joy in one’s heart. His ability to take every moment and make the most of it while still looking to tomorrow gave her the determination to survive and find happiness someday—or at least peace. His quiet strength gave her hope that she’d be able to put the past behind her and make her own way in the world.

  With her parents, she’d spent all of her time trying to stay in the background, afraid to draw attention to herself. There’d been no joy, no excitement, nothing to look forward to. No dreams. Those, she’d learned early on, led to disappointment and a crushing of the spirit. It was better not to hope for or to expect things that would not happen.

  With her Indian warrior, she’d found joy in living each day as it came, blindly trusting and following wherever he led, content with what he gave her. But those days had been filled with mixed feelings she hadn’t recognized. Something had still been missing.

  Now, being around John, she knew what it was: balance. The freedom to be herself, accepted for who and what she was. And the growing hope and dream of a better future. A future where she could venture out of her shell and explore a new and exciting world.

  For the first time in her life, she was free to form her own opinions without fear of being struck. John listened. He didn’t laugh at her thoughts. He asked questions. Made her think. Made her believe in herself and gave her hope that she could find the strength to go on and take her place in the world without allowing anything to suffocate her.

  Yet as much as she dreamed of this life she’d once thought out of reach, the thought of leaving here now left her scared. She wanted the freedom to follow her heart, but she didn’t know where life’s boundaries lay. She feared failure. Here, she was cocooned. She couldn’t fail. John was her safety net.

  “What are you thinking about, Emily?” He tossed a stone into the river.

  Emily watched the sunlight dance off the water, heard the gentle splash of the rock, and thought that there was no place on this ear
th so peaceful. “Before I lost my parents, I’d never just sat and did nothing but enjoy the day. Idleness was a sin to my father.” Her voice hitched. Sometimes the past angered her to the point of tears; she’d been denied so much. Reaching up, she felt the locket lying between her breasts, the only thing she had from a life that now seemed so far away.

  John turned his head to look at her. “When I was a boy, my pa used to take me fishing. Said it was a man’s job to think more than he talked.” His eyes softened with past memories. “I used to think he used that as an excuse not to work or hang around and listen to my mother nag him.”

  Frowning, Emily laced her fingers together. “Did your parents love each other?”

  He gave her pointed look. “Yep. They died together, and I know that’s how they would have wanted it.” His voice was rough.

  “But you said he went fishing because your mother nagged him.” Her mother would never have dared to nag her father. Like Emily, Beatrice had done what Timothy ordered without hesitation or question.

  “It was just their way. She nagged him, he barked orders, and they both did as they pleased. They wouldn’t have had it any other way. They loved and trusted each other not to take undue advantage.”

  “That seems so hard to imagine,” Emily said. But she could imagine two people living just like that. Hadn’t she acted in the same manner with John? She’d taken charge, stopped him from playing with the wolf because she worried about his wound. And he did the same with her: refused to let her leave the vicinity of the cabin alone, insisting on going with her, standing guard when she bathed—just in case of unexpected trouble. And as she accepted the boundaries he imposed, he accepted hers.

  They fell silent again. Emily glanced up. A few fluffy clouds drifted slowly overhead. To the right, she spotted a soaring hawk. The bird dipped a wing and flew lower, right over their heads, then down along the water.

  “I wonder if that’s your hawk,” she mused.

  John shaded his eyes. “Might be.” A thread of sadness tinged his voice.

  “I hope you hadn’t wanted him for a pet.” She worried her lower lip. She hadn’t given thought to his plans for the bird when she released it.

  He sighed. “You can’t cage one of nature’s wild creatures. You were right to free him.”

  “What about Fang?” It still amazed her that he had a pet wolf.

  He shifted then stretched his leg out, massaging his thigh. “Found Fang when he was just a pup. Couldn’t save the leg and couldn’t destroy him. He survived. It’s his choice to stay. He’s free to go anytime he wants.”

  Emily heard the affection in his voice. “You’d miss him, though,” she said. The wolf had become John’s friend; she recognized that.

  He met her gaze. “Yeah. I’d miss him. Sometimes it gets lonely out here, but I never feel alone when he’s with me.”

  Emily thought about the loneliness she’d sensed in him when John had first found her. “Why do you do this? Why stay here? I’m not sure I could stand to live out here alone and go months with no one to talk to—and that’s aside from the fact that there’s no town close by to get fresh supplies. What is out there?” Emily shivered. “Besides Indians.” Sometimes she couldn’t wait to leave, to return to civilization and safety. The sheer vastness of the land intimidated her as much as it fascinated her.

  John chuckled and pulled lightly on the single braid hanging down her back. He held out his hand, encompassing everything before them. “This is the ultimate challenge: living alongside Mother Nature. And surviving to tell of it.”

  “I should have known,” Emily retorted wryly. “Man’s need to rule.”

  “Yes and no. We think we’ve conquered her with our large cities, but one storm or fire can destroy those. Out here there’s no question—she’s in charge. It’s not about trying to rule. If I’m to survive, I have to learn to live with Mother Nature, not rule her or live in spite of her.” He leaned back on his elbow. “A man learns real fast that he has to respect everything: the seasons, the wildlife and the ground he walks on—else he bears the consequences.”

  Emily wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees. “You mean he’ll die.” She still recalled her fright and fear of dying when she’d been cornered by the wolves. Nature had nearly won that night.

  “Exactly. And death isn’t always clean and fast. The worst hell I can imagine is to die slowly, alone.” He rolled a pebble between his thumb and forefinger. “But that comes from being careless. A fire not properly doused will destroy and chase away the animals I trap. No furs. No pay. Storms can destroy our supplies. Some men come out here thinking to get rich. They don’t have any idea what it takes to survive. Those not prepared get sick. Most don’t make it back to get treated. And misjudging animals—I’ve seen men who went up against bears and come away minus arms. Or worse.”

  He paused. “Carelessness with an ax can cause a man to bleed to death.”

  Emily shivered. John had come so close to dying. But he hadn’t been alone—this time. She shook off the memory of the attack. “If it’s so bad, why stay?”

  “Well, Sunshine, this is a life of contradictions. Life and death. Joy and sorrow. Hatred and love. The beauty of spring, the harshness of winter. It’s real out here. Everything is raw. And there’s no greater thrill than to survive and live as one with a force greater than yourself.”

  He paused and lifted his fingers to her braid, rubbing the soft bit at the end. “The rewards make it all worthwhile. Sometimes a man finds rare beauty when he’s given up all hope.” He glanced up into her eyes.

  The breath left her lungs as John’s gaze captured hers. Some emotion she feared to name crackled between them. She tried to ignore it, told herself that nothing could come of it. This man lived here, in the very wilderness that had claimed her parents. Yet she, too, had begun to see the beauty of life out here—despite the hardships. Contradictions. She mused over that. She craved freedom, yet wanted safety. She desired peace, yet had to disturb the past, find the answers surrounding her birth. She had to know if her father had known of her, had to know if he had wanted her—despite the pain the knowledge might bring.

  Sitting here, safe and protected, she felt it was impossible to have it all. In order to get the answers she needed, she had to leave—which meant leaving John. Yet he had become such a crucial part of her happiness.

  Suddenly nothing else mattered. For one moment, she wanted to pretend that there was only her and him. Them. She felt drawn into John Cartier’s warm protection. Like an unsuspecting insect trapped by molasses, she’d been snared.

  John reached up and caressed her cheek. The pad of his thumb grazed the corner of her mouth, his touch light as a cloud of dandelions.

  “Emily—”

  “John—”

  They both spoke at once. John lifted himself up, his hand sliding around to cup the back of her neck. He drew her to him. Emily dipped her head. Their lips met in a tentative kiss.

  Drawing Emily close, John savored the sweet taste of her. He hadn’t kissed her since he’d been delirious, but recently it was all he thought about, dreamed about.

  Her breath mingled with his and sent hot waves of desire coursing through his veins. Blood pounded in his brain, his heart and his loins when her lips moved with his in a union as sweet and light as a summer breeze. Go slow. Just one sweet, little kiss. That was all. But he couldn’t stop. One taste made him crave more. He needed Emily as much as he needed the sun. Maybe more. His lips slanted over hers, still gentle in their explorations.

  She twined her arms around his neck and slid her fingers through his hair, pulling off the leather tie, freeing the long, dark strands. Twisting his body, he reversed their positions, lowering her to the soft bank. He broke off their kiss and stared down at her.

  Her eyes mirrored the intense need he felt. Her lips parted, her eyes silently begging for him to resume the kiss. Her fingers trailed up the sides of his face, stroking, touching, learning him.

  With t
he speed of a summer storm, passion erupted. He crushed his mouth to hers. Their tongues met, his plunging into her mouth, tasting and stroking. He groaned. Heaven. This was heaven. Emily’s kiss was bliss. Sweetness. Nectar from the rarest plant. His fingers tangled in her hair.

  Beneath him, her breasts rose and fell with each deeply drawn breath, a soft pillow for his hard chest. Then she took control of the kiss. He retreated, meeting her questing tongue with tiny licks as she tasted him. The tips of their tongues met and twined—first slowly, then in a frenzy of need.

  Reeling from the taste and feel of her, John broke away, his body on fire. His mouth blazed a path along Emily’s jaw and down her throat, feeling the jump of her pulse. His own leaped in response. Beneath him she shifted, allowing him to fall into the cradle of her hips. His manhood, hard and throbbing with need, pressed against her. Dots of color danced behind his eyes as he closed them.

  He wanted her. He needed her. His palm slid down her throat to one round breast. He cupped her through the material of her dress, felt the hard pebble of her nipple and used his palm to stroke it to an even tighter bud. She moaned, pushing closer. Her hips arched, the juncture of her thighs pressing up against him. John felt as though he’d burst into flames.

  Beneath him, Emily moaned, her eyes closed, her lips parted. Memories of when he’d found her—her naked body, so made for loving—nearly made him explode. But then he remembered the emptiness in her eyes when she’d offered herself to him. He hadn’t been able to take what she’d been willing to give then—and he couldn’t now.

  Passion. They had that between them. But he wanted more—much more. He wanted her trust and love. He wanted all of her, and he knew this moment of bliss didn’t mean she was ready to give it to him.

  The thought of stopping made him shiver, his body protesting what his mind had decided. But then he said, “We have to stop, Emily.”

  His mouth claimed hers in a final kiss meant to soothe, but it left him aching with need.

  Stop? Emily, her thoughts muddled by passion’s storm, blinked her eyes open. John’s gaze, heavy with desire, met hers. Her gaze shifted to his mouth, his wonderful, full, sensuous lips that left her hungry for more. “No,” she protested, trying to draw him back.