Kneeling, Eric opened his supply case. His experienced hands quickly examined Blancheur while he asked Laura exactly what had happened. She appreciated his forthrightness as he interspersed their conversation with his opinion of each of the wounds, which he announced were mostly the type to leave a scar but not life-threatening. Even the deep wound on the dog's neck had missed any vital spots, he assured Laura.
"But I'll need to stitch that one," he admitted. "And I'll want you to help me put Blancheur under the anesthesia."
Heedless of the damage to her cloak and dress from Blancheur's still damp, blood-spotted fur, Laura scooted over and lifted the dog's head into her lap. Sandy came in as Erik uncorked a bottle of ether from his supply case. He knelt beside Erik and they nodded a greeting to each other.
"What can I do?" Sandy asked.
"Thread that needle and get it ready for me," Erik said. "How's your dog?"
Sandy picked up the needle, and Laura glanced away. She could handle the blood, but when Erik started sewing on Blancheur, she would have to leave.
"I'll want you to look Keever over," Sandy said, "but I don't think he's too bad off. He did get a bad bite in a leg muscle, though, and he won't be pulling any sleds until that heals."
"Bad news when a couple male dogs get into it," Erik mused. "How'd you let that happen?"
"Looks like it was an accident. A weak link we didn't notice in the chain. There's no indication it might have been tampered with."
Laura's gaze flew to his. "Who on earth would want Blancheur and Keever to get into a fight? What purpose would that serve?"
Erik and Sandy glanced at each other, and Laura's anger built as she waited for them to comment — or try to protect her from their suspicions because she was a woman.
Sandy spoke first. "Money," he said tensely. "Our two teams are already the top odds-makers for the race this first day after the announcement. With them out of contention — or at least not at top speed — "
"The race isn't for six weeks!"
"You two worry about that later," Erik interrupted. "I've got this dog under, and I don't want to keep him that way any longer than necessary."
Laura chanced a look at the needle Sandy handed Erik and felt her face blanche. Sandy immediately scooted over and lifted Blancheur's head from her lap.
"You look like you could use some air," he murmured sympathetically. "Why don't you step outside?"
"Thank you," Laura breathed. Scrambling to her feet, she hurried from the kennel.
The fresh air quelled her nausea, and Laura blocked out what was happening in the kennel by concentrating on the scenery around her. Yesterday evening a small snowstorm had passed over, but the heavy, overcast skies appeared to predict a stronger storm later today. Instead of deep blue, the water in Lake Superior had a gray cast to it, and she could see rolling swells in the distance. Near noon, the temperature still seemed to be falling, rather than climbing toward the afternoon mildness.
Perhaps sensing the tension in the air, the dogs quietly paced or lay before their doghouses. Normally they would clamor for Laura's attention when she appeared. Here and there a younger pup whined and pricked its ears, and Trouble bounded on top of his doghouse, tail wagging. Yet even the worrisome yearling didn't show his usual exuberance.
Not disbelieving Sandy but needing to see the evidence for herself, Laura pushed away from the kennel wall and headed for Keever's doghouse. The empty chain lay in the snow, and she concluded Pete had taken Keever to the cabin to recuperate. When she picked up the chain, she had no doubt Sandy was right. The link had snapped at a spot noticeably thinner than the area surrounding it.
Why hadn't they examined these new chains before they used them, she wondered. But then, they'd never had any trouble like this before, so who would think to bother?
"Laura!"
Turning toward the call, Laura saw Cristy on the back porch.
"Katie's made some hot chocolate," Cristy called. "Would you like me to bring you out a cup?"
"I'll come get one." Dropping the chain into the snow, she walked toward the house. Cristy disappeared inside, and by the time Laura climbed the steps, the other woman had a cup of chocolate waiting for her.
"Thank you." Accepting the cup, Laura winced in pain.
"What's wrong?" Cristy asked. "Do you hurt somewhere?"
"My back," Laura admitted taking a sip of hot chocolate. After savoring the cinnamon-laden sweetness, she swallowed and moved over to a stool on the back porch. "I think I'll sit down a minute. I slipped on some ice on the step earlier. If you see Father before I do, Cristy, would you remind him to put some salt there before someone else gets injured?"
"Of course." Cristy's gaze swung toward the kennel. "How is your dog? And Keever? Tracie would be devastated if anything happened to either one of those animals."
"Please assure her they'll both recover."
"She'll believe it better if you tell her when we eat," Cristy said with a smile. "You're her heroine, you know. She's already decided she wants her own sled dog team by the time she's ten, like your father told her you had."
"I've been promising to take her for a run with me." Laura smiled. "But Sandy keeps me so busy training, I haven't had time. And — " She paused and shook her head. "I won't be able to reassure Tracie about the dogs' injuries at dinner, Cristy. I'll be sitting up with Blancheur tonight. The first night after a traumatic injury like he's suffered is touch and go. I'll want to be there with him to make sure he stays as peaceful as I can make him, so he won't tear out his stitches. I'll be going back out to the kennel as soon as Erik finishes caring for him."
Cristy placed a hand on her stomach and her mouth whitened. "Stitches?" she murmured.
"My sentiments exactly," Laura said with a grimace. "Look, there's Sandy, so I better go." She surged to her feet, hesitating just a second. "Tell Tracie everything will be fine and that Buck can bring her out to see Blancheur after while, if she really wants."
"She'd probably feel better if she could see the dog for herself."
"She's a lovely little girl. Sandy and his wife raised her well."
"I didn't know Colleen very well," Cristy admitted, touching her cheek to brush back a strand of hair. "I only visited them a couple times. But I remember her as a wonderful, giving person. Sandy loved her so much, we feared for his sanity when she died."
Becoming aware of the cup in her hand, Laura set it on the porch railing, having suddenly lost her desire for her favorite beverage. "He seems to be the type of man who loves deeply and truly," she said in one of those bursts of words she sometimes couldn't control.
"Very," Cristy agreed.
***
Chapter 8
A log shifted in the pot-bellied stove in the corner of the room, and Laura's eyes flew open. Her father insisted on setting up a cot for her beside Blancheur's bed, although she assured him she wouldn't sleep at all. Of course, she finally gave up the fight to hold her eyes open when Blancheur didn't stir for over an hour. The lantern on a beam overhead was out, and she could only see faint outlines in the room, except for the fire glow in the stove. Extending a hand, she touched Blancheur as the door opened.
"Laura?"
Sandy's voice. She sat up and said, "I'm awake. The lantern has gone out. Probably out of coal oil."
"Stay there, and I'll light another one."
She rubbed her eyes and waited until Sandy took another lantern from the supply shelf and lit it. It sent a glow through the room as he carried it over to the beam and replaced the empty lantern, then knelt to examine the dog. "How's he been?"
"Quiet. But I'm sure he wouldn't have stayed that way if I hadn't been here with him. How's Keever?"
"He woke me up scratching at the door, wanting back outside. I repaired the chain earlier, so I tied him up again. Then I got a huge hankering for a piece of Katie's pie and figured I'd check to see if you were awake and hungry, too. We didn't get much of a meal, sitting out here instead of at the table with everyone
else."
"I told you to go on in," Laura reminded him. "There was no sense in both of us missing Katie's wonderful feast."
Sandy ignored her and rose to his feet. "You want a piece of that pie? Katie sent two pumpkin ones home with Tracie. I'm sure she won't mind us having a couple pieces."
Laura smiled up at him. "As a matter of fact, I'd love a piece of pumpkin pie. She didn't by any chance send some turkey home with you, too, did she?"
"White meat," Sandy said with a grin. "That turkey must have been huge, because she said that was only half of what was left. It's enough to feed the three of us for two days, if we never touch another thing."
"White meat's my favorite."
"I'll be right back."
While he was gone, Laura assured herself Blancheur would continue to rest comfortably by carefully coaxing one of the sedative pills Erik had told her to give him every six hours down the dog's throat. Then she added some logs to the stove.
She had no qualms about being alone with Sandy at this time of night. She trusted him, since they had rationalized the kiss as an aftereffect of their fear during the moose attack. They'd spent hours and hours together since then with no problem, and he continued to be the perfect gentleman, except when he came near to losing his temper with her when she made what he regarded as a dangerous mistake. That, she knew, was concern for her safety, and . . . and . . . well, she decided with a firm set to her mouth while she cleared off a space on the office desk, conscientiousness on his part. He'd told her the first time they met that it wouldn't do his reputation any good if one of his students was injured or killed.
Besides, her life was planned out. She wanted her one chance at excitement — the Alaskan race — and then she'd settle down as a good little wife and mother. As David's good little wife and mother of his children.
By the time Sandy returned, she had another lantern lit and hanging on a peg in the office. A funny warmth stole through her when Sandy set his offering down and removed the linen dish towel wrapped around it with a flourish. His teal blue eyes picked up the lantern light and shone with satisfaction. He'd bundled up the turkey and pie for them by removing half of one pie and piling slices of turkey into the empty portion of the pie pan, then protecting it all with the dish towel.
They'd never shared a meal on the trail, although Sandy periodically checked Laura's emergency rations pack in case an unexpected emergency caught them out. They planned their runs to always arrive back at Ladyslipper Landing for meals.
Her stomach broke the stillness with a loud growl, and Laura burst into giggles. "Good thing you brought this food. Otherwise my stomach might disturb Blancheur. He might think there was another dog in here and tear his stitches lose trying to protect me."
Shaking his head at her nonsense, Sandy pulled the chair out for her. She sat, then remembered Pete had taken the only other chair to the back of the kennel to fix a weak leg. Sandy looked around the office, searching for that chair she assumed, and she told him where it was.
He picked up a stack of papers on the corner of the desk and piled them onto a nearby file cabinet. Then he nonchalantly propped a hip on the desk, belatedly asking Laura, "You don't mind if I sit, too, do you?"
The stab of desire hit her with a wallop in the stomach — and lower. Maybe it was the late night aloneness allowing it to get out of control, when she'd managed to ignore it for so many weeks. Maybe it was the way his stance snugged his trouser leg so tight against his thigh.
"Of course not! Sit!"
He tilted his head questioningly in response to her sharp tone of voice, but she reached for a piece of turkey. Sandy scooted back on the desk, his thigh so near her forearm she could feel the heat from it. Gritting her teeth, she stared at the piece of turkey in her fingers, wondering how the heck she could take a bite with her jaws clenched like this. But if she let go of her control enough to relax her jaws, she might surge to her feet and jump as far away from that desk as she could.
Or jump onto the desk and see if she fit as well in Sandy's arms as she remembered doing the day the moose charged them.
He seemed completely unaware of the tension straining her body. "Hey." He flicked a finger at the turkey in her hand. "As Tracie would say, we's grownups. If that doesn't appeal to you, you can have your dessert first."
Picking up a piece of pie, he held the pointed end to her lips. Her eyes flew to his, and the moment their gazes touched, Sandy's eyes darkened. His hand wobbled, and the end of the pie brushed her lips.
She shoved the chair back violently and stood, her hand immediately going to the opposite forearm, rubbing the tingles caused when it brushed his thigh. She backed away, but the filing cabinet behind her halted her escape.
"Laura, what's wrong?"
She heard more than a courteous concern in his voice — in only those three words. How could she tell he was forcing himself to ask that question? How did she know he was as aware as she was that the crackling in the air around them came from the waves of yearning flowing between them?
When she moved her hand from her arm to her lips, her finger encountered a tiny piece of pie. Instinctively, she stuck out her tongue and licked it from the end of her finger, the spicy sweetness making a dramatic impact on her too-heightened senses.
Sandy exploded off the desk. "Good God, woman!" he yelled. "How the hell much more do you think I can take?"
"I'm engaged," she halfway moaned, once again knowing exactly how he felt.
"I know that!" he yelled back. "Damn it, I know that!" He ran both hands through his hair and glared at her. Voice softened with torment, he repeated, "I know that."
Laura heard a soft growl outside the office and realized Sandy's voice had disturbed Blancheur, even in the depths of his drugged sleep. "I . . . better go check on him."
"I'll go." Sandy took one step away from the desk, his boot landing on the pie he'd dropped on the floor. His leg skidded, and his arms flew up. Laura rushed forward, grabbing him to steady him. Her impetus pushed him against the desk and he sat, saving them both from a nasty fall.
She was between his legs. Her arms were around his waist — and his arms were around her. Their lips were only a scant breath from each others. Then they weren't.
He kissed her with a fury she drank in joyfully, an unnecessary palm on the back of her head to hold her. He kissed her as though this would be the only other kiss he would ever have from her — as well it should be. Would be. She clung to him, savoring every tingle in her body and every moan rumbling in his throat — every whimper in hers. Storing every bit of it in her mind so she would have this memory to savor in her private thoughts down through the years.
He lifted his head. "Oh, Laura," he breathed.
She didn't pull away — couldn't. His fingers tensed, and she knew he was trying to do the proper thing for both of them — push her away from him. Yet an invisible velvet net held them together, and her lips desperately wanted just one more taste of his.
She had no idea how long they stared into each others eyes, but finally Sandy released a sigh of surrender and bent his head. He barely touched his lips to hers, then brushed them back and forth. The next kiss clung a scant bit longer, and the one after that longer still.
When she tightened her arms around him, her breasts flattened on his chest. An unfamiliar hardness between his legs pressed against her stomach, and he hissed a tortured sound. Sealing their lips together, he swept his tongue into her mouth and filled her with spiraling sensations, which made her lose all contact with the real world. Her entire universe right then consisted of her and Sandy and the glorious need burning between them.
A picture of the cot outside the office door flashed in her mind. Then a picture of her and Sandy entangled on it. It shocked her back to her senses somewhat, yet it took her an interminably long time to bring Sandy back to his. Did she purposely prolong the ecstasy, she wondered at one point? Because she knew this would never happen again?
When Sandy unbuttoned the fr
ont of her shirt and trailed his lips and tongue down to her breast, she knew this had to stop. Quickly. Soon. Very soon. Her nipple pebbled and a new jolt of pleasure stabbed down to her stomach, then centered a little lower — right below where that hardness pressed against her stomach, flinching and jerking.
David had never, ever made her feel like this.
His name in her mind did it. "David!" she said aloud, and Sandy froze.
Several long, intense seconds passed before Sandy raised his head from her breast. The dampness his mouth left behind cooled on her skin, a direct contradiction to the heat flaring inside her. He dropped his arms, and she stepped back.
As soon as she was no longer in his way, Sandy surged from the office. Her eyes widened, and the fire inside her shifted to anger. How dare he leave her without saying anything about what had just happened between them? And it had definitely been between them, not one of them alone causing this furor.
Buttoning her shirt, she raced from the office and saw him disappear out the kennel door. The door didn't even have time to shut before she shoved it open again and went through after him. Outside light from a brilliant silver moon highlighted the area, but the beauty barely registered on her — except for the fact it gave her plenty of light to see Sandy heading toward his own cabin.
"You wait right there, Sandy Montdulac!" He whirled and she stomped toward him, feet sinking into several inches of new snow, which had fallen earlier in the night. "You can't just walk away from what just happened. We need to talk."
"Why? What the hell can we do about it?"
The truth of his words stunned Laura, and she halted abruptly. The crisp, cold air cooled the flush on her cheeks, and she blamed the air also for the quick sheen of tears misting her eyes. Determinedly she blinked them away, because they interfered with her view of Sandy. He stood a few feet away from her, but the distance yawned as large as from one shore of the huge lake they lived upon to the other.
"Nothing, I guess," she forced out. "We can't do anything about it. Just see that it doesn't happen again."
Winter Dreams Page 10