The instant Rand’s tongue touched her closed lips, Freddy wrenched free. It was the same thing he had tried to do when he kissed her in the tipi, the first time her toes curled. Of course, they had been curling pretty regularly ever since. She stared at him, eyes cautious, a little anxious. Maybe it was a trick of some kind, something meant to make her believe he was the one, even though he wasn’t her Prince Charming. She had to admit it was working.
“It definitely wasn’t your fortune that attracted me to you, Freddy.”
“What was it, then?”
“Fishing for compliments? If only you were fishing for fish. There are people in the Far East, I believe, who actually eat raw fish.”
Freddy watched his lips curl into a mocking smile and smiled back at him, wondering all the while if he was going to kiss her again. An undercurrent of tension shimmered between them. Because she wanted it to happen again. And suspected he did, too.
She found it difficult to describe everything she was feeling. Agitated. Excited. Breathless. And curious about what would have happened if she had let him do with his tongue whatever it was he had been about to do.
“I fell in love with your eyes, Freddy,” Rand murmured against her forehead.
“My eyes?”
“You have the eyes of a dreamer—open and trusting and full of possibilities. I want to share those dreams, Freddy. I want very much to be a part of them.”
His lips caressed her temple, slid down to close the eyes he had professed to love, then kissed the tip of her nose, and finally, at long, long last, found her mouth. Her lips were waiting for him.
Rand held Freddy loosely, ready to release her if she made the slightest effort to be free. She had done nothing to protest his kisses, but her cheeks had grown roses, and her eyelids remained lowered. She was a picture of maidenly modesty. He wondered what would happen if he kissed her as he wanted to, with his tongue, and touched her breasts with his hands and mouth.
Their mouths met and clung. Her lips were softer than he had imagined lips could be, yielding, totally unFreddylike. He broke the kiss and watched as her tongue slid out to harvest the dampness left by his. Tasting him.
“I want to kiss you, Freddy. May I?”
“All right, Rand.” She squeezed her eyes more tightly closed and pursed her lips into a bow.
He fought to keep from laughing, knowing that would be fatal to his cause. “Relax,” he murmured in her ear.
Her eyes flashed open. “I can’t re—”
He covered her mouth with his, letting his lips settle on hers, letting her feel the weight of them, the firmness, before he sent his tongue probing the seam of her lips, demanding the secrets of her mouth.
She jerked away once again and stared at him, wide-eyed. “What was that … what were you doing, Rand?”
“It’s part of kissing.”
“Nobody except you ever kissed me like that!”
“I hope not! That kind of kissing is reserved for men and their—”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Mistresses?”
“A smart man will teach his wife how to please him in bed.”
“What about her pleasure?” Freddy demanded.
“Pleasing her is a great part of what pleases him,” he answered quietly.
“I see.”
“Do you?”
Truthfully, Freddy conceded, it was all a bit confusing. But she didn’t want to air her ignorance in front of Rand, not when he had already accused her of behaving like a child. She wanted him to see her as a woman. She didn’t want to examine why that should matter when she had already told him she couldn’t marry him. She settled back into his embrace and began idly tracing the line of his stubbled jaw. She was afraid to invite another kiss, uncertain whether she wanted to take any step leading to greater intimacy with him. Especially when she didn’t love him.
“I’ve never felt a man’s beard before,” she said, subtly withdrawing from the subject of kisses. “It’s odd how good it feels. Just now, when you kissed me, your beard scraped my cheek and … it made me shiver.” She shivered again, remembering the experience. “Does it hurt when you shave?”
“No,” he said with a strangled laugh.
“Why do you suppose hair grows on a man’s face?”
“I have no idea.”
“I like how the stubble looks on you. Sort of dark and dangerous. It makes you seem almost a stranger. Only, I know I’m safe with you.”
Like a lamb with a very hungry lion, Rand thought as his genitals drew up tight. He was going to explode if she didn’t stop speaking so provocatively, touching him so intimately.
They were completely off the subject he had originally wanted to pursue, but he was willing to let her mind wander where it would. It was akin to their fanciful conversation about rabbits and pheasants. Since there was little he could do to change himself overnight into her ideal man, he would simply have to be the man he was and hope she could learn to appreciate him.
His body responded poignantly to the feel of her fingers roaming the flesh at his throat. He inched himself away so she wouldn’t be able to detect his arousal—not for her sake, but for his. He had spent a hellish night wanting to touch, wanting to taste the woman in his arms, yet bound by honor to keep his distance. Now she seemed willing, and he was having the devil of a time putting honor above other, more urgent, needs. That was despite the ache in his shoulder, which warned him he might well be biting off more than he could chew comfortably.
“Stop wiggling,” Freddy chided. “You keep moving my pillow.” She rearranged her head on his arm and sighed in contentment.
They lay in silence, watching the sun rise higher in a wide blue sky. Two jays chattered like an old married couple, while the wind rustled the cottonwoods, and the river tumbled noisily over its stony bed. They could have been lying beside a peaceful brook in England.
But they weren’t.
“We have to get up soon, love. We can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous,” Rand said.
“It can’t be more dangerous than riding across the open prairie unarmed and lost.” Freddy let her fingers walk down Rand’s throat to the open neck of the buckskin shirt. She felt him shudder beneath her touch and marveled at her power over him.
She felt his hand squeeze her breast and froze. She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Rand …”
It wasn’t necessary to complete her protest. He withdrew his hand.
She felt bereft. But also relieved. They weren’t a married couple, and she wasn’t sure they ever would be, despite Rand’s insistence the previous evening that marriage to him was necessary to save her reputation.
He gave her a sharp nudge and began struggling to sit up. Her muscles were stiff, but she managed to get to her feet more easily than Rand, who needed her help to rise. She kept her shoulder under his arm, afraid he would fall if she left him on his own.
“Are you sure you can stand?”
“I’m going to do more than that. I’m going to spend the next several hours sitting upright on a horse.”
“We could stay here, Rand. Maybe—”
“Hawk will be coming after us. We have to ride for the fort as hard and as fast as we can. I wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight, not with this broken wing of mine.” Not, Rand thought, that he would have much chance in a fair fight, either. He was a decent boxer, having indulged in the sport with other young men his age. But he doubted the Sioux would follow Marquis of Queensberry rules. And he had no skill with a knife, which he suspected Hawk might very well use against him.
“You’re awfully brave to even think about fighting that dreadful Indian,” Freddy said.
“If I were really courageous I’d have stayed in England and learned a trade,” Rand replied. “I was too proud to want my friends to see I had to earn my living with my hands. This venture provided an escape from the ignominy of being a poor man in a privileged society where money matters only if you don’t have it.”
Freddy walked w
ith Rand toward the thick bushes some distance away where they had left the horses tied overnight. “Plying a trade has always been the fate of second sons,” she pointed out.
“It’s not quite so honorable for heirs left without a fortune,” he said, fighting the rancor he felt every time he thought of the profligate spending that had robbed him of his heritage.
Freddy paused long enough to reach up and put her fingers to Rand’s lips. “It doesn’t matter, Rand. In fact, it all seems pretty silly when you think of the two of us here without a change of clothing or a bite to eat, reduced to considering the bare necessities of survival. Because, I’m not quite sure, but I think—in spite of everything—I’m actually enjoying myself.”
“You would,” Rand said with a grin. He hugged her quickly, tightly, until she squeaked. “I think that’s another reason why I fell in love with you, Freddy. You’re irrepressible.”
“Whatever that means,” she said, uncomfortable with the mention of love, because she didn’t love Rand in return.
“You take life’s little jabs, and you bounce right back.”
“Sort of like a boxer?”
His grin widened. “Oh, I’d like to see you in the ring, love, going a few rounds with adversity. You’d beat him every time.”
“You think so?”
“I’d bet on it.” Which was saying a lot because, frankly, Rand wasn’t much of a gambler. He had seen what wagering—on cards, on dice, and on risky ventures—had done to his father. Or rather, the man who had been married to his mother and had given Rand his name, but very little else of himself.
“Rand!” Freddy whispered urgently.
Her tone of voice warned him something was wrong. And the whinnies of the frightened horses.
The Indian ponies yanked the reins free and raced away, stranding them on foot. Escape from the Sioux was unlikely now. Only that was no longer their immediate problem.
“Is that a … a bear, Rand?” Freddy rasped.
It was. A very large, very dangerous-looking bear. “Climb a tree, Freddy.”
“What?”
“The tree closest to you. Shinny up it. You can do that, can’t you?” Rand said in a calm, quiet voice.
“What good will that do? Bears can climb, too.”
“Do it, Freddy,” Rand said, losing patience as panic gained ground.
Rand had never seen a bear up close. He wasn’t looking forward to getting a better look at this one. Luckily the wind was in Rand’s face, which meant the animal wasn’t aware of them. Yet. Its attention had been drawn by the fleeing horses.
He gave Freddy a boost that sent her a couple of feet higher up the tree. The cottonwoods didn’t have comfortable branches for sitting on, but Freddy settled herself in a fork twelve or thirteen feet above the ground.
“Rand? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to distract the bear and lead him away from you.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very good idea. Why don’t you climb a tree, too?”
“I don’t think I could manage it, Freddy. Not with the wound in my shoulder.”
“Please, Rand, don’t do anything to get yourself killed.”
“Love me?” he asked with a cheeky smile. “I just don’t want to be left alone out here!” she shot back.
“If we’re lucky, that monster will be so busy chasing me that he won’t notice you. Whatever happens, stay where you are until you’re sure the bear is gone and it’s safe to come down. Then follow the river south. You won’t forget?”
“I won’t forget.” Freddy realized what Rand was saying without saying it in so many words. I might not survive. I might be killed. In that case, she should do her best to reach the fort on her own.
Freddy felt a tightness in her chest that wasn’t entirely fear for her own well-being. She looked into Rand’s eyes and saw the willingness there to sacrifice himself for her. And it drew an unwanted response from her. “Please, be careful, Rand.”
“I promise I’ll do my best to stay alive. I’m looking forward to having a houseful of children with you and watching my grandchildren grow up around my knees.”
The future he envisioned sounded idyllic, Freddy had to admit. It was unlikely either one of them was going to survive to see it. Rand might not outlive his encounter with the bear. If he was killed, her survival was very much in doubt. She wished fervently that she did love him, that she had made love to him when she had the chance, because her life might end without her ever knowing that emotion, that experience.
Wishing didn’t make things so.
She started to speak again, but realized Rand was no longer aware of her. He seemed totally focused on the bear that was ambling in their direction, apparently still unaware of their presence.
Rand’s heart was beating so hard he could actually hear it thudding against the wall of his chest. He took a deep breath and huffed it out in an attempt to calm himself. He looked up and down the river to see if there was any refuge he could seek once he drew the bear’s attention. The underbrush seemed even thicker downstream. That was the direction he would run.
He shouted and waved his arms. With a clutch of alarm he watched the bear raise its nose to the wind, looking for a scent to match the sound. “Hey! This way!”
The bear saw him.
Rand wasn’t certain the bear would chase him if he ran away, but it seemed likely. He took off, knowing he had to lead the bear away from Freddy. He didn’t allow himself to think farther than that, because the grisly possibilities were too overwhelming to consider.
He held his wrist tight against his chest as he ran to protect his wounded shoulder. But he stumbled, and as he reached out to catch himself, the wound tore open and began to bleed again. Every jarring footfall after that brought excruciating pain. He fought the blackness that threatened behind his eyes. Fine end that would be for the Earl of Rushland, to faint dead away and be eaten by a bear!
The thought made him smile, which quickly became a wince as he tripped and jerked his shoulder painfully. He ran like he was sprinting for his team at Oxford, with a guinea bet that he could trounce Mortimer Fry in the dash.
He glanced over his shoulder. The lumbering beast was almost upon him, jaws slobbering, huge teeth revealed by his open mouth.
Rand looked for some means of escaping the inevitable and spied the remains of an immense rotted tree trunk ahead of him. An animal had recently been burrowing there, and Rand thought perhaps he could wedge himself in the hole beneath the trunk and escape the bear’s reach.
Maybe.
He pressed a hand to the stitch in his side. If he could just run … a little bit … farther.
He threw himself onto the ground and scuttled under the rotted log very like a beetle hiding under a leaf. Oh, the beetle felt safe from harm, but one step by a heavy foot could easily crush it. Rand knew his situation was equally fragile.
The bear didn’t hesitate. It immediately began digging with its claws in an attempt to dislodge him from his hiding place.
Rand grunted in surprise when the swipe of claws raked across his chest, shredding the buckskin as though it had been his lawn shirt. He was too stunned at first to feel the pain of his own torn flesh.
He pressed himself farther back into the hole. It was clear now, if it hadn’t been before, that it was only a matter of time before the bear widened the narrow hole enough to reach him. His lungs filled with the smell of damp rot, of freshly turned earth. He felt oddly detached, as though he were observing this happening to someone else. He watched himself look methodically for some route of escape and, finding none, begin to face the prospect of death.
He didn’t want Freddy’s last memories of him to be of a screaming man. He was determined to die quietly. He tried to brace himself for the horror to come. His mind skittered around, refusing to focus on the unthinkable.
“Bear! Hey, you, Bear! Over here.”
Holy Christ! Freddy was taunting the bear, trying to get its attention. “Freddy!
” Rand shouted. “Freddy, go back!”
It was too late. The bear abruptly stopped digging, and the opening that had been blocked by its rancid body filled with blinding light.
The animal was gone.
Rand sucked in a breathful of fresh air as he wiggled himself free of his hidey-hole. The sight that greeted his eyes made his heart skip a beat.
The bear had covered half the distance to Freddy. She was running, and the bear was chasing her. He picked up the closest thing he could find, a fair-sized rock, and threw it as hard as he could.
It hit the bear square on the rump, but the lumbering beast didn’t even slow down.
“Freddy!” Rand cried in agony. She was going to be mauled before his eyes. There was nothing he could do to prevent it. Nothing! He started running toward her, knowing his effort was futile.
His life flashed before him, along with all the questions he had been so sure he would find the answers to someday. He wished he had confronted his mother with the things his father had told him on his deathbed. Surely she would have told him the truth if he had asked her.
His lungs were bursting. His heart racketed in his bleeding chest. Too late! Too late! No more … time … for regrets. The bear had caught up to Freddy. It took a swipe at her with its paw, and he heard her shriek as her feet flew out from under her.
At the same time Rand cried her name, several shots rang out in the distance.
The bear turned to look in the direction of the gunshots.
Rand halted where he was, his breath caught in his chest. Hope flared. If only help came in time. If only …
The bear glanced back at Freddy’s prone figure, then searched the wind with its snout. Another shot rang out, much closer this time, and the grizzly bounded away in the opposite direction from the noise.
They were saved!
Rand raced to where Freddy lay unmoving on the ground. As he turned her over, her eyelids fluttered open.
“Rand? The bear?”
“He’s gone, Freddy. Are you all right?” he asked.
She exposed her sturdy leather boot, which bore the clear marks of the bear’s claws. “I need a new pair of boots,” she said with an attempt at a smile. “But I’m fine.”
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