Sarah's pole snagged on the bottom, and she leaned against the rail to pull it loose. Suddenly, the ferry struck something solid and tilted. Sarah shouted a warning to Forest, dropped her pole, and clung to the rail.
Forest's feet slipped out from under him and he fell, crying out as his head struck the railing. Sarah lunged for him, but to her horror, he tumbled into the river before she could reach him.
"Forest!" she screamed. "Forest!"
An uprooted tree surfaced downriver, a few feet from the ferry. Sarah gripped the rail and stared into the black water. Forest's head bobbed up, white against the river. Sarah grabbed her pole and extended it out as far as she could reach. "Forest! The pole!"
He struggled violently to keep his head above water as the current pulled him farther away from the raft. When the water closed over his head again, Sarah pulled off her cloak and mittens and fumbled with the ties at the back of her heavy wool skirt. The boots came next; she cast them aside as she saw Forest surface again a few feet from where he went under.
"Please, God . . . " she whispered. "Please let me reach him!"
Knotting one end of a tie line around her waist, she took a deep breath and dove into the icy water. The shock of the frigid water took her breath away. Instantly, her mind and body became numb. She clawed for the surface instinctively, coming up to gasp for air near the spot where she had last seen Forest.
There was nothing around her but black water. Despair colder than the elements seized her. I can't lose him now! Please let me find him before it's too late!
Her knee struck something soft beneath the surface. She grabbed at the object and then realized that it was Forest's shirt. Frantically, she tugged him upward until his head broke water. For an instant, his dead weight threatened to pull them both down. "No!" she screamed. "No! I've got you, and I won't let you die!"
He moaned, and she pulled his head toward her and shouted into his ear. "The rope! Hang on to the rope!" She knotted one hand through his hair and began to pull herself back toward the raft.
Seconds passed like hours as Sarah fought her way to the ferry with Forest. Her arms were blocks of ice; she couldn't feel her feet. The hardest thing she had ever done in her life was to lift and push him up over the logs. When he lay gasping on the deck, choking up great mouthfuls of water, she tried to pull herself up and failed. Her arms didn't have the strength. Her will was weakening.
"Help me!" she cried, flailing at Forest's arm. "I can't make it."
Groggily, Forest raised his head. "Sarah?" His hands tightened around her arm, and he yanked her half out of the water.
With overwhelming effort, Sarah scrambled the rest of the way, pulling her lower body up onto the logs. Crawling on her hands and knees, she dragged her cloak over Forest's half-frozen body. She was shaking so hard she could hardly pull her skirt over her head and put her mittens on. The urge to rest . . . to lie down and sleep just a little while . . . was strong, but she knew that if she did neither of them would ever awaken.
Her legs and feet seemed to belong to someone else; they wouldn't hold her upright. Weeping, she crawled back to Forest and shook him. "You've got to help me," she cried frantically. "I can't get the ferry to shore alone."
He moaned and tried to lie back on the deck.
"No, damn it!" she screamed. "I won't let you die! I won't let you kill me!" She grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up, slapping his face as hard as she could. "Get up and pole this ferry, or you'll be poling one in hell!"
A trickle of blood ran from Forest's nose. Pain brought him back to consciousness, and still choking, he pushed himself to a sitting position in the circle of lantern light, shielding his face with his arm.
"Get up!" Sarah repeated. "Help me get the ferry ashore!"
Reason replaced the dull acceptance in his eyes. Groaning, he staggered to his feet and took the pole she forced into his hands.
"Pole!" she cried. "Pole for your life!"
The crossing was not one Sarah would wish to repeat in this lifetime. When the ferry finally bumped against the dock, they staggered ashore. Only years of following the same routine made her pause to wrap the tie lines to the mooring posts.
"To the kitchen," she shouted.
Forest draped the now-sodden cloak over her shoulders, but she pushed it away. The wrap was too heavy to wear. A few more seconds and she would be in front of a fire.
"Not the tavern," he protested. "Your cabin."
"Why? The cabin is—"
Forest grabbed her arm and began to stumble through the melting snow.
"Are you crazy?" she demanded. "The tavern is closer!" But there was no arguing with him; he didn't seem to hear her. She was too tired, too cold, to care where they went as long as there was a fire.
They staggered across the farmyard arm in arm like drunken sailors, flinging themselves into the cabin amidst the barking dogs. Forest slammed the heavy door behind them, bolted it and began to strip away his clothes.
In shock, Sarah huddled before the fire, teeth chattering. Her fingers were almost too numb to peel off her wool stockings, and she was too cold to worry about modesty when she removed her bodice. The shift and skirt fell to the floor, and she stood to step out of them as Forest dropped a shawl around her shoulders. She murmured her thanks to Forest and dipped a mug of hot water from the kettle.
"D-drink this," she managed to say. Her hands were shaking so that the water splashed over the sides of the cup. "Warm your . . . your insides."
Nude, Forest stood before the fire, letting the heat restore blood to his numbed body. In the firelight, Sarah noticed the bloody gash on his head and the smear of blood across his lower face from his nose.
"You're hurt," she said. The memory of the black icy water returned, threatening her sanity. I almost lost you, she thought. "Your head . . . "
He forced a lopsided grin. "I'm dead. I'm just too damned stupid to know it." He drained the cup and held it out. "Now you," he insisted. "You're as cold as I am."
"But my head's not . . . not broken," she managed to say between chattering teeth. She was shaking with the cold. No matter how close she got to the fire, it didn't seem to help.
Ignoring her own misery, Sarah poured a dipper of water over the corner of her shift and pulled Forest down to wipe the blood from his face. "I think your head needs stitching," she ventured. The ugly wound was still swelling. "I didn't do that to you. You hit your head on the rail when you fell in."
"No," he groaned, rubbing his face. "You just broke my nose."
"You can live with a broken nose . . . but not lung fever." Sarah tugged at his hand. "Come on."
Puzzled, he followed her into the bedchamber. A fire glowed in the fireplace here, too. Deftly, Sarah lifted several round stones from the hearth and rolled them in a length of cloth. She tucked them into the foot of the bed under the quilts. "Get into bed," she ordered, putting two more logs on the fire. "We'll warm quicker if we have the heat from each other's body."
"Sarah, I don't think I'm up to—"
"Is that all you men ever have on your mind?" She giggled as she gave him a shove. "I'll not have you sicken on me after I've gone to all the trouble of saving you."
Forest obeyed, and Sarah dragged another feather tick on top of the covers and climbed in beside him, snuggling close within his arms. "I've no interest in that part of you," she insisted. "I only want to get warm."
"Mmmmm," he groaned, wiggling his icy bare feet against the hot stones. Sarah's face was against his chest, her naked breasts pressed into his belly. "God, but that feels good."
"Me or the hot stones?"
His only answer was a low chuckle.
Sarah's shivering gradually slowed as she nestled against him, and the weariness returned. Forest's heartbeat was strong and steady, reassuring. She snuggled down, taking comfort from his warming flesh next to hers.
"Sarah."
"Hmmm?"
"You saved my life back there on the river."
&nbs
p; "Umm-humm."
"You could have died with me. Why did you do it?"
She tilted her face to stare up into his penetrating gaze. "If you don't know," she murmured sleepily, "then that bump on the head did more damage than I thought."
Chapter Fifteen
Scarlet Ribbons on Her Pillow
Sarah woke a little at a time, trying to resolve the nightmare of the icy river with the reality of Forest's arms around her and the warmth of the featherbed. She had no idea of the time, but it was still dark outside; the only light in her bedchamber came from the glowing fireplace.
Forest's body was warm against hers, and the steady rise and fall of his chest told her he was sleeping normally with no sign of fever. He's alive, she thought fiercely. We're both alive . . . Thank God!
What if I'd lost him? Waves of fear swept over her, and she began to shiver. He could be lying lifeless at the bottom of the river. But he was here . . . warm . . . safe . . . here in her arms. "We've been given another chance," she whispered.
He stirred against her, and desire rose, banishing the fear . . . replacing it with urgent longing.
Tentatively, she let her free hand steal across his taut belly and down to the curling mat of hair above his loins. It felt deliriously wicked to touch him at her leisure . . . to explore his muscular body while he slept.
Avoiding his male sex, Sarah let her fingers travel lower, tracing the hard curves of his thigh. He lay on his right side, facing her, unknowingly allowing her access to all but his back and one buttock. With a soft sigh, she moved her hand from his left leg to his shoulder.
Again, she thought how beautiful he was. Strange that a male body should be sleek and hard at the same time . . . silk over coiled steel springs. Her fingers touched his damp hair possessively; it was soft and thick, sliding through her fingers like strands of the finest linen. Even in the darkness she could see the rich, chestnut color in her mind's eye. She had always believed auburn to be an ugly color for a man's hair. She had been wrong.
Lightly, so as not to wake him, Sarah slid her hand to rest on his neck. He had shaved yesterday, and his beard was so slow in growing that she felt only a faint prickle of facial hair. She pressed her lips against his throat in a whisper-soft kiss. He sighed in his sleep. Brazenly, she claimed another kiss, her mouth capturing the sensual curve of his lower lip.
Forest sighed again, and Sarah laughed softly, stroking her toes up and down his leg.
She had never touched Obediah willingly. They had been married, a union sanctified by church and state, yet she had never ceased to feel violated when he came near her. After they had wed and she had realized the folly of fighting his advances, she had lain like a stone beneath him, letting her mind escape to a happier time.
What was there about Forest that was so different? Not only did she accept his touch—she wanted to touch him.
Other women had joked about the joys of bedding a man, but she had supposed they were different than she was. The only joy she had received from her husband's embrace was her child. To find this blazing passion, this bittersweet desire with an auburn-haired stranger was overwhelming.
"I love you," she whispered inaudibly.
When she saw him disappear under the dark surface of the Misakaak, the pain had been unbearable. She had known the risk she was taking by diving in after him—had known what could happen to Joshua, alone and orphaned—but she had been unable to stand by and do nothing.
I knew I could save Forest from drowning, she argued with her conscience. But the defense was a weak one and she knew it. She had not known . . . she had hoped. And when she was in the water, she had despaired that either of them would live to see another dawn.
He's alive, she repeated to herself. We're both alive, and that's all that matters . . . not what could have been. We're alive, and we're together.
Her fingers trailed down to caress the hard curves of his chest and to brush against the nub of his nipple. Delicious waves of pleasure spread outward from the pit of her stomach until her breathing quickened and she felt a heightened sense of awareness in every part of her body.
She laid her cheek against Forest's chest and was alarmed to hear a change in the rhythm of his heartbeat. Was there a slight sheen of perspiration over his skin? She raised on one elbow and felt his forehead, unwittingly brushing his chest with a bare breast.
"God, woman," he exclaimed. "Do ye think me made of stone?"
She gasped and tried to jerk back, but his arms tightened around her, and his mouth possessed hers in an urgent, scorching kiss. His free hand captured the offending breast and squeezed it gently, sending tremors of excitement through her. Their tongues met . . . touched . . . tasted . . . in a searing kiss of ever deepening passion.
Forest's strong legs twined around hers, and she felt his growing desire, hot and powerful. "Forest," she murmured between slow, wet kisses. "I thought you were . . . "
"Dead? A priest?" He chuckled, low and lusty, and the deep sound sent shivers down her spine. "Lord, Lord, but you ask much of a man." He kissed her again. "Would you have ravished me while I slept?"
She giggled as his fingers touched the moist curls between her legs. "Am I not to touch you, then?"
He tasted the skin at her throat with the tip of his tongue and lowered his head to take a love-swollen nipple into his mouth. She moaned and squirmed closer, offering her other breast for him to kiss. "You may touch me wherever . . . and whenever you please, sweetheart," he murmured, rolling onto his back. "I will even play the beast of burden for you," he teased thickly.
Sarah slid down until she felt the heat of his inflamed loins against her moist sex. "Would you have me do this?" she asked. "And this?" She moved against him until he moaned with desire and then lowered herself over his chest until her unbound hair brushed his face.
"Sarah." He moaned, twining his fingers in her silken tresses. "I want you."
"Would you make a scarlet woman of me?" She blew softly in his ear and teased it with the tip of her moist tongue.
His only reply was to seize her hips with both hands and lift them until she settled firmly on his swollen shaft. "Love me, Sarah," he entreated hoarsely. "Love me."
Eagerly, she moved against him, giving joy and taking it, letting herself be swept away by the sheer rapture of their ecstasy . . . letting herself become part of this man she loved. And, when she thought she could take no more, when she thought she would shatter into a million crystal shards of pure happiness, she heard Forest give a cry of utter fulfillment as he reached his own climax. Breathlessly, she lay in his arms as wave after wave of sweet pleasure washed over her. As she drifted off in a semiconscious state, caught between sleep and waking, she heard him whisper the words she needed so badly.
"I love you, little Sarah," he murmured. "I love you more than life."
Forest's words brought her jolting back to full consciousness. He loves me, she thought with wonder. He said he loves me. The dulcet bliss of that pronouncement was enough to keep her awake and smiling long after he had dropped into a soundless sleep.
Forest rose in the first light of dawn and slipped quietly from Sarah's bed. He tucked the quilts around her and hastily pulled on his clothes. The shirt was dry, the breeches nearly so. His boots were still sodden, but there was no help for it. He pulled on the damp wool stockings and then the boots. He had dry moccasins in his quarters in the barn; he'd change out of the boots when he got there.
Luckily he had a second eye patch with his belongings, too. The one he'd been wearing last night was somewhere downriver. I'm damned lucky I'm not still wearing that patch . . . at the bottom of the river, he thought. If it wasn't for Sarah's courage and quick thinking . . .
Gingerly, he rubbed at the swelling on his head. It hurt, but it wouldn't kill him. He grinned. He'd have to keep a good distance away from Sarah today if he didn't want her to stitch up the blame thing.
Returning to the bed, he stood there for several minutes, staring down at her with a l
ump in his throat. She lay curled up with one arm flung over her head and her hair spread across the pillow. The urge to kiss her was strong, but he didn't want to chance waking her. Instead, he left the house and returned in a few minutes with something he had brought from Chestertown for her as a Christmas gift and laid it on his pillow.
"Forest?" she murmured, only half awake.
"Shhh, it's early," he soothed. "Go back to sleep."
"Umm," she replied, snuggling deeper into the feather tick.
He emerged from the cabin and crossed the yard, entering the tavern by the kitchen door. Gideon and Joshua still slept soundly on their pallets. Forest climbed the stairs to the second floor, drew off his boots and stockings, and crawled into his bed in the common room.
Forest pulled the covers up around his neck and curled into a ball. Damn, but the room was cold! He'd have to rely on his memories of Sarah's body to keep him warm. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile as he burrowed down and drifted off to sleep.
In the cabin, Sarah was waking up. She reached out to feel for Forest beside her, and her fingers touched his gift. Puzzled, she scrambled out of bed, lit a candle from the flame on the hearth and carried the light back to bed. On the pillow lay two lengths of silken scarlet ribbon.
She gave a cry of delight and scooped up the ribbons, rubbing the precious fabric against her lips. Her eyes filled with tears, and she choked back a sob. Scarlet ribbons! "How did you know?" she whispered into the cold room. "How could you know?"
She blew out the candle and let it slip from her fingers onto the floor. How many years? she thought. How many years has it been since my father bought me scarlet ribbons for my hair?
Weeping, she twined the ribbons through her fingers and held them to her breasts. "Oh, Forest," she murmured, "I do love you . . . "
~~~
When Sarah arrived at the tavern kitchen an hour later, Joshua and Gideon were making johnnycakes for breakfast. Sarah stomped her feet to get the snow off and opened her arms. "You two look busy," she said.
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