by Cassie Hayes
“Chirp!”
“Okay, now I’m going to reach for you, and you’re not going to bite or scratch me. Deal?”
“Chirp!”
“Here goes nothin’.”
Dermot slowly reached for Clara and suddenly wished he’d worn his gloves. Nothing for it now. The moment his fingers grazed her spotted fur, he relaxed a little. She was so soft! He’d never had the opportunity to touch a cougar before, and as soft and adorable as she was, he hoped he never had the chance again.
Gathering up a handful of loose skin and fur at the nape of her neck, Dermot counted down, “Three, two, one,” then jerked her off the branch and clutched her to his chest. The frightened baby squeaked louder and dug her needle-sharp claws into his coat. Thank goodness it was made of thick wool or that might have hurt. No ‘might’ about it.
About halfway down, climbing with one hand for a branch and one for Clara, Dermot nearly lost his grip and released her to steady himself. The cub seized the opportunity to scramble up his chest to perch on top of his head, which was completely unprotected from her claws. Grunting in pain, he reached up to pull her off, but that only resulted in her digging deeper into his scalp.
“Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!”
“Good grief,” he mumbled, gritting his teeth against the pain and moving even more slowly than before.
Every step down jiggled the kitten, but she remained steadfastly latched onto his head. As he reached the last branch, he glanced down just enough to dread the jump he was about to take. Clara would no doubt take a nice chunk of flesh with her when she was jounced loose. But waiting and fretting wouldn’t make it any less painful, so with a deep breath and a whispered prayer, Dermot dropped.
The prayer must have worked, because his feet had barely touched the spongy earth before he caught a startled Clara in his arms. She must have released her grip in surprise, but his scalp burned where her claws had pierced it. Cuddling the frightened cub, he checked the nearly-healed wound on her leg, then tucked her into his coat for warmth. She was much too young to be away from her mother.
Turning to Isabelle, he was about to tell her Lisa shouldn’t have taken the cub because the mother had no doubt stashed her for safety. Now there was a desperate mama cougar out there searching for her baby. He was going to tell her they needed to figure out how to return the cub as soon as possible.
Then he saw her face. Isabelle pressed both hands to her mouth, but her silently shaking shoulders and the way her eyes crinkled at the corners gave her away.
“Are you laughing at me?” he demanded, torn between feeling insulted and laughing his head off. It must have looked pretty funny, a Mountie climbing down a tree with a cougar cub sitting on his head.
Isabelle didn’t speak — she probably couldn’t — just shook her head, all the while keeping the lower half of her face covered.
“You are! You think it’s funny this little stowaway nearly scalped me!” He couldn’t stop himself from grinning from ear to ear. It was pretty funny, now that he thought about it.
Finally, she dropped her hands and hooted with laughter. The more she tried to stop, the harder she laughed. She doubled over, trying to catch her breath, until she tumbled right off the log.
“You should have seen it,” she said between giggles, pointing at him from the ground. “A big, brave Mountie—“ she snorted in a most unladylike fashion that made him laugh “—kitten on his head!”
“That’s not how I remember it. A big, brave Mountie…yes, you’re right about that. But in my version of today’s events, Clara will be a wild cougar, not a ‘kitten’. And she may or may not end up on my head — I haven’t decided.”
Dermot sat on the log and reached out to offer a hand to Isabelle. The moment her cool, thin fingers touched his, something deep in his chest clawed to get out — and it wasn’t Clara. He loved laughing with her and longed to share his true feelings.
“Feeling better?” He nudged her shoulder, as had become their habit.
She nudged back, still smiling, but no longer breathless with laughter. “I’m sorry about earlier. I acted like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum, and I hope you can forgive me.”
He gazed into her warm eyes and wondered if there was anything she could ever do that he wouldn’t forgive. Probably not.
“Nothing to forgive, but I sure would like to know what was troubling you.”
Any hint of amusement fled from her face, and she dropped her gaze to her hands. “I received a letter from my mother. Can we just leave it at that for now?”
“Of course,” he said lightly, though his heart felt like a lump of lead.
Clara chose that moment to start purring. Loudly. Dermot pulled his coat open enough to see she’d snuggled into him and was close to dropping off to sleep. Isabelle sighed happily and reached in to pet the cub. Just the proximity of her hand to his chest set him on pins and needles, but he controlled himself. As much as he wanted to grab her hand, then pull her into a deep kiss, she had something on her mind, and it had nothing to do with him.
Although his gut told him otherwise. Whatever was in that letter might very well change his life forever. But right here, right now, with the way she was smiling up at him as she petted Clara’s soft little head, he couldn’t have been any happier.
Until he looked around and wondered where they were.
Chapter 9
“We should probably get this little one back home, don’t you think?” Isabelle asked, smiling up at Dermot, her cheeks heating up just looking at him.
Until her dying days, she would never forget the sight of him climbing that stupid tree to rescue Clara. Sure, the climb down had tickled her funny bone, but the dashing Mountie who had not only saved her, but the kitten as well, would be burned into her mind’s eye forever.
Dermot was a true hero.
“Um, yes but…” he stuttered.
In quickly gathering twilight, she caught the frown as he looked around. Understanding hung like a weight around her neck, even before he spoke.
“Do you, uh…do you remember which way we came in?” he asked, his normally deep voice cracking on the last word.
Isabelle moved away from him to take stock. Just when she thought there might be hope for him — hope for them — he got them lost in the woods…again!
“Are you playing a joke on me, Dermot?”
But she knew he wasn’t. Even before his worried blue eyes settled on her.
“No!” she cried, knowing it would hurt his feelings. “I thought you were doing better since you started training with Kelu.”
It was his turn to drop his gaze. “I am, but we ran in the woods pell-mell and we circled that tree so many times I got turned around. What about you? Do you remember?”
Isabelle had been so focused on Clara, on top of trying hard to not think about her mother’s letter, she hadn’t paid the slightest attention to where she was going. She had no right to be angry with him, since she had no idea which way they’d come in either, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to stomp off in a hissy fit.
“Of course not,” she snapped a little too harshly.
He jerked as if she’d slapped him, and she instantly regretted her tone. It’s not as if he got them lost on purpose. Be nice!
“Okay,” he said. “You stay here with Clara and I’ll go find our way out.”
Isabelle jumped up as he stood and glared up at him. “Now you really are joking! You’re not going to leave me out here alone while you go traipsing off into the woods as night’s falling. If you go, I go.”
“But your ankle.”
“My ankle’s fine, doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
“But what if—“
The sound of trees rustling nearby drew their attention. The hair on the back of Isabelle’s neck stood on end, thinking of the mama cougar who’d been searching for her baby all around the area. The noise grew closer, and Dermot pushed Isabelle behind him at the same moment he pulled out his revolver.
&n
bsp; “Shh,” he hushed, as if she was making a racket.
They stood like statues as they waited for the great yellow beast to leap on them, but the noise stopped abruptly, then was followed by an irritated whinny.
“Star?”
Dermot bolted into the dense underbrush, leaving Isabelle to follow or not. By the time she caught up with him, he almost had his beautiful chestnut mare unhitched from the little wagon. All the action must have woken Clara, because her head popped out of his coat and she meowed. Really, it sounded more like a really angry bird. Either way, it made Isabelle’s heart constrict.
“Here, you better hold her while I get the buckboard freed up,” Dermot said, passing the kitten to her. “Star doesn’t seem fond of her.”
That explained the horse’s jittery mood since they’d left Moose Lick. Isabelle had been so preoccupied with her own thoughts, she’d barely noticed. Cuddling Clara under her chin, she moved far enough away to calm Star, but close enough to keep Dermot in sight. Darkness fell fast in the Yukon, and she didn’t want them both to become even more lost.
“Blast!” Dermot kicked the wheel on the wagon, then pulled Star by the reins toward her. “Linchpin broke. And I don’t have a spare. And it’s getting dark.”
“And?”
He grimaced. “And I think we should make camp for the night.”
Isabelle stared at him in disbelief. “We’re going to freeze to death!”
“No, now calm down. We’re not going to freeze to death. There’s plenty of wood around here to build a roaring fire, plus there’s the wool blanket and a tarp in my emergency kit. I’m sure I can find something to serve as a temporary linchpin, but it’ll take a while to figure out.”
“And it’s getting dark,” she said with a disappointed sigh.
“Exactly. But the bright side is we know which way is out. Star here dragged an excellent path to follow until she got stuck.”
Why didn’t that make her feel any better?
They found a small clearing within sight of the wagon, and Dermot began gathering wood. Holding onto Clara with one hand, Isabelle collected jagged rocks twice the size of her hand to build a fire pit. Once that chore was complete she surveyed the scene, and her stomach grumbled.
She and her friends had shared a light lunch, but now she had a very long, very cold night to look forward to without the benefit of dinner. Her already grumpy mood grew even grumpier.
“I don’t suppose you brought a pot of stew with you?” she asked in a tight voice. “Or maybe some jerky?”
Dermot turned slowly to face her, arms loaded with firewood. He didn’t need to say a word — his expression was answer enough.
“Isabelle, I’m so s—“
“Don’t be. Clara and I are going to see what we can find.”
She didn’t wait for his permission, or even a response — she simply stomped off into the woods, hoping to find a rabbit trail.
“Don’t go far,” he called from behind her.
Isabelle muttered her irritation as she pushed her way through a dense patch of shrubbery. “Hear that, Clara? He’s worried I’ll get lost. Doesn’t he know we’re already lost?”
The kitten looked up at her as she jounced in Isabelle’s arms, her head bobbing around. Isabelle stopped to tuck the sweet little girl into her coat before searching in earnest for a trail. It only took a few minutes, then a few minutes more to fashion a makeshift snare from some twine she’d tucked in her pocket that morning, thinking the other brides would enjoy learning how to set their own snares. They’d become so caught up in conversation, she’d completely forgotten about it until the need arose.
Trailing the trip string to a hiding spot behind a bush, she settled in and waited. Clara shifted in her now-still nest, and Isabelle vented her frustration in barely audible whispers.
“I don’t know, Clara. Before I read Mother’s letter, I hadn’t really thought of going back to Ottawa in days. But now…after this…”
A rabbit hopped into view, setting Isabelle’s heart racing. She held her breath, waiting for the critter to step into her snare, but it stopped just before it and twitched its nose. Then Clara chirped and it was gone in the blink of an eye.
“You need to stay quiet, little love. I know you’re hungry too, so settle down, okay?”
Almost as if she understood, Clara closed her eyes and began purring.
“I have to admit, Dermot is much sweeter than I originally thought, but Rodney never would have gotten us lost in the woods. In fact, if I was home right now, I’d probably be enjoying some delicious beef bourguignon the cook whipped up, instead of hoping and praying for a stringy little bunny.”
Leaves rustled as a small creature scurried down the trail, but it was just a small fox. It sniffed at the snare, then sauntered on its way, completely unconcerned by her presence.
“Oh, and I’d sleep in a soft feather bed tonight instead of on the hard ground, and someone else would light the fireplace and put a bedwarmer under the covers. Yes Clara, life would be so much easier in Ottawa.”
Isabelle’s left side was falling asleep, so she rolled to her right side, careful to not squish her tiny charge.
“I know what you’re thinking. You think I’m crazy for even thinking of accepting Rodney’s offer to marry. First, you should know that annulling this marriage would be quite a simple matter for my father. As much as I detest him, he is connected. Secondly, it’s quite common for ladies to marry men they loathe.”
Clara grumbled as she moved into a more comfortable position inside Isabelle’s coat.
“No, it’s true. High society ladies marry for status, not love. One thing I know for sure, I’d be much more respected for marrying a man who humiliated me, than for marrying a noble man beneath my station. That’s just the way it is.”
Another rabbit hopped into view, and began nibbling on a patch of grass very close to her snare. Pretty soon, she wouldn’t be able to see a thing, so she tensed and waited. And she thought.
Life is too hard here, and too much is unknown.
She was already freezing; what would it be like in January? How many times would Dermot get them lost, and which time would end with them being eaten by a bear or even Clara, after she grew into an adult?
No, Mother had always said the devil you knew was better than the devil you didn’t, and Isabelle knew what life with Rodney would be like. Safe. Boring, yes, but also safe. One thing was certain: she’d never have to hunt her own dinner.
The bunny moved closer to the snare, and Isabelle sent up a quick prayer.
Lord, let me survive this night, and I swear I will go back home where I belong.
Then she jerked the string.
For as long as he lived, Dermot would never forget the profound disappointment written all over Isabelle’s face before she turned away and hurried deeper into the woods. He wasn’t really worried about her getting lost — they’d always be able to call out until they found each other — he just didn’t want her thinking too much about what a huge failure he’d turned out to be.
As hard as he tried, he always seemed to screw things up. If all the ladies in Vancouver could see him now, they’d run away screaming, and he fully expected the same from Isabelle.
“Think she’s going to leave, Star?”
He swiped a hand down the horse’s muzzle, and she pressed her nose into his palm affectionately, as if she wanted to cheer him up.
“You hungry? Me too, but I don’t think the spare feed I brought along will do me much good, so I guess you get it all.”
He’d learned early on to always pack a few vital supplies whenever he left for anywhere farther than a few miles. First of all, the weather could turn in a heartbeat and being stranded without any kind of protection could be deadly. But of course, most of the time he simply got turned around. In fact, the last time he’d gotten lost driving the wagon, he’d eaten the small cache of food he’d brought along and forgot to replenish it before they left for Moose Lick that m
orning. It was his fault they’d go hungry that night.
“What kind of husband does that?” he mumbled as he set Star up with her emergency supply of feed.
Stacking the wood he’d collected a short distance from the circle of stones Isabelle had made, Dermot took his frustration out on a handful of twigs by snapping them into kindling. Each crack of wood symbolized another way he’d messed up since marrying the most amazing woman he’d ever met.
His love for her went far beyond her outer beauty — a new sensation for him. All his life, he’d believed physical appearances were far more valuable than inner qualities. That’s why his father married the most beautiful girl in Vancouver, even though she was a cold fish and a lush. Dermot’s nanny had reinforced this belief by teaching him his good looks were “gold in the bank.” And the only time he seemed to garner his mother’s approval was when he courted beautiful women.
But the Yukon didn’t care how pretty you were. Survival depended on wits and skill alone, not how nattily you dressed. Somehow, he’d learned enough to keep himself alive over the course of a couple of years, and Isabelle… Well, she was a downright wonder. After some initial reticence, she’d dived right into learning how to become self-sufficient — which was no doubt due in some small part to his treatment of her that first night.
He’d never forgive himself for behaving like such a cad. He’d just been so surprised that she hadn’t been delighted to live in a tiny and cluttered one-room cabin with absolutely no luxuries, with a man who treated her shabbily. Experience had taught him that women would follow him wherever he led, thanks to his looks.
But Isabelle had been too smart to fall for that, probably because she was just as gorgeous as he was handsome. She’d seen right through his façade, and had decided if she was going to survive the week, she wouldn’t be able to rely on him. His gut twisted in response. He wanted nothing more than to be a man she could rely on. The only man.
He scooped a handful of crispy, dry leaves into a pile and carefully placed the twigs on top, then lit a match from the stash in his emergency kit.