Only Love o-4

by Elizabeth Lowell

  The first day set the pattern for the days that followed. Shannon worked as Willow did, whether it was cooking or sewing or cleaning. When Willow protested that Shannon was doing too much, Shannon simply laughed and said it was much easier than what she would be doing if she was in Echo Basin.

  After supper on the fourth day that Shannon and Whip had been at the ranch, Willow coaxed Caleb to get out his harmonica and play some of her favorite songs.

  Soon the haunting strains of a waltz were floating through the house. Lanterns glowed in shades of sun-bright gold throughout the main room of the house, softening everything their light touched. The spare lines of furniture and handmade rugs were transformed into solid, gracious forms.

  Smiling, Whip went up to Willow, bowed with polished grace, and held out his hand to her.

  «Madam,» Whip said gravely, «as hostess, the first dance of the evening is yours.»

  «I’m not as graceful as I was the last time we danced,» she warned.

  Whip’s smile was haunting, almost wistful.

  «You’re a beautiful woman, Willow, and never more so than when you’re carrying the child of the love you and Caleb share.»

  Willow flushed and smiled and allowed her older brother to help her to her feet. She curtsied with the ease of a woman who had been raised with all the refinements wealth and natural elegance could provide.

  When Willow stepped into Whip’s outstretched arms, he held his sister as though she were made of fine, very fragile crystal. Their hair was as bright and golden as candle flames, their eyes gleamed with pleasure, and their steps blended smoothly. Together Willow and Whip glided and turned gracefully through the room while Caleb’s harmonica transformed the night with music.

  Shannon watched brother and sister dance with a feeling close to envy. She, too, had once known what it was to attend balls, if only by peeking through the second-floor balustrade and watching the swirls of silk and satin and music below. Too young to dance and too old to be sleepy, she had passed many an hour dreaming about the time when she would be of an age to join the laughing, silken dancers.

  But before that time had come, the world had changed. Silks and gowns and balls vanished from Shannon’s life before she could enjoy them firsthand.

  The final notes of the waltz quivered through the air. Shannon sighed and turned to Caleb.

  «I didn’t know a harmonica could make such beautiful music,» she said in a husky voice.

  Caleb smiled slightly. «You’ve lived way off in Echo Basin too long. The only music you have to compare with my harmonica is the howling of the wolves.»

  «Would it surprise you to know that I enjoy the wolves’ music — as long as I’m safely inside the cabin?»

  «Nothing about a girl who charged a grizzly with an antique shotgun would surprise me.»

  The approval in Caleb’s eyes made Shannon flush and smile shyly up at him at the same time.

  «If you can spare time from flirting with my brother-in-law,» Whip said coolly, «we could rest Willow’s feet and dance together.»

  «I don’t know how to dance and I wasn’t flir —» Shannon began.

  Her words stopped abruptly. The anger she saw in Whip’s eyes made her mouth too dry to speak.

  «Rafael!» Willow said, shocked. «Where are your manners?»

  «In his watch pocket,» Caleb suggested dryly, «along with his brains.»

  Whip shot him a savage look.

  Caleb smiled thinly.

  «Save it for Reno,» Caleb suggested. «He’s been waiting for a chance to get even ever since you dumped him on his butt with your Chinese wrestling tricks and then took strips out of his hide for the way he was treating Eve.»

  «He had it coming,» Whip said. «He was being a damn fool about not marrying her. Anybody could see it.»

  «Except the damn fool involved,» Caleb pointed out. «You might think on that. You might think on it real hard. Then you can apologize to Shannon by teaching her how to waltz.»

  With that, Caleb winked at Willow and picked up his harmonica. Soon haunting harmonies once again filled the room.

  Shannon looked everywhere but at Whip. Her cheeks were still stained red from his accusation. And from her own anger. She had done nothing to earn the sharp edge of Whip’s tongue.

  Whip’s large hand appeared in front of Shannon’s eyes. His fingers were long, tanned, oddly elegant for all their strength. The nails were clean and closely trimmed.

  He smelled of peppermint.

  Whip saw the accusation in Shannon’s blue eyes when she looked up at him, then the sudden flaring of her nostrils, and then her surprise.

  «Peppermint,» she said.

  «Willow has it planted out back. I picked some for your room while you and Willow were clearing the dinner table.»

  «I — thank you,» Shannon stammered. «That was very kind of you.»

  Whip held out his other hand and said softly, «Dance with me.»

  Honey girl.

  Though Whip didn’t say the words aloud, they were there in the silver blaze of his eyes as he looked at her.

  «I d-don’t know how,» Shannon said.

  «I’ll teach you, if you’ll let me. Will you let me, Shannon?»

  A shiver lanced through her.

  «Yes,» she whispered.

  «Then come to me,» he whispered in return.

  When Shannon stood up, Whip took her left hand and led her to the center of the living room floor. There he turned and faced her, lifting her hand as he did. If they had been alone, he would have kissed the center of her palm. Instead, he circled it with his thumb before pressing lightly in the very center.

  Shannon felt as though her palm had been kissed. Her breath shortened and her eyes widened to luminous pools of blue.

  «Put your left hand on my shoulder,» Whip said in a deep voice.

  «Like this?»

  «Yes. Now, rest your right hand in mine.»

  A betraying shiver went through Shannon when her palm brushed over Whip’s. He shifted his hand until he could grip hers lightly with his fingers.

  «Can you hear the beats of the music?» Whip asked.

  Shannon cocked her head, listening despite her nearly overwhelming awareness of Whip’s body close to hers, their breaths mingling, the strong surge of the pulse in his neck. After the space of a few breaths, she heard the rhythms Whip was counting. She began counting with him, softly.

  «That’s it,» Whip said. «Now, beginning with your right foot, follow my lead.»

  Whip’s grip on Shannon changed, becoming more secure, guiding her at all times and supporting her if she wavered. He began with simple steps, but quickly went on to more intricate ones as it became clear that Shannon was capable of more than schoolroom exercises.

  «Are you certain you don’t know how to waltz?» Whip asked, turning swiftly, taking Shannon with him.

  She laughed and hung on to Whip, trusting him to lead her through the dance. His strength and confidence made learning easy for her.

  «I’ve dreamed of dancing like this,» Shannon said softly to Whip, «but I never did it. The closest I came was huddling behind the potted plants and peeking through the balustrade at all the lovely, swirling dancers.»

  «How old were you?»

  «Five or six or seven. It was a long, long time ago,» Shannon said absently, counting the beat, «before Papa deserted us and Mama took to laudanum.»

  Whip was shocked, but he didn’t pursue the subject. He wanted to erase the shadows from Shannon’s magnificent eyes, not create more darkness by recalling unhappy memories.

  «I think she’s ready for a polka,» Whip said, looking over Shannon’s head to Caleb.

  Immediately the harmonica’s music went from stately to raucous, with rollicking refrains that made Willow laugh out loud and tap her foot to the driving, infectious rhythm.

  «Hear the beat?» Whip asked Shannon.

  «I’d have to be dead not to!»

  «Or dead drunk,» he said. «I
suspect the Germans invented this dance as a way to get thirsty enough to drink beer all night long.»

  Whip took Shannon’s hands and placed them on his shoulders. By now her foot was tapping along with Willow’s.

  «Ready?» he asked.

  «For what?»

  «To romp with me like I was Prettyface and we were in a highmountain meadow with nothing around but wildflowers and the sun.»

  The thought of romping like that with Whip charmed Shannon. Laughter gleamed in her eyes and curved her lips into a dazzling smile.

  Then laughter fled in a hot rush as Whip put his hands on her hips. His fingers flexed subtly, savoring the feminine flesh just beneath the worn cloth trousers. The smile he gave her was as reckless and sexy as the glittering light in his eyes.

  With no more warning than that, Whip began the polka, counting out the measure as he had the waltz. But this time his voice was nearly a shout rather than a murmur. Shannon caught on quickly, for the polka was much more simple than the waltz. Whatever lack of experience she had was more than made up for by Whip’s sheer strength. If Shannon faltered, Whip simply lifted her right off her feet.

  Soon the two of them were romping and stomping from the living room to the kitchen and down the hall and back again. Every few steps Whip would lift Shannon entirely off her feet, whirl her around, then set her down and head off in another direction.

  Cheeks flushed, eyes alight, laughing, Shannon gave herself to the music and to the man who laughed and danced with her. Finally, on the tenth trip from living room to kitchen, she was breathless from laughter and from the polka itself. She clung to Whip and begged for mercy. He whirled her around once more, feet off the ground, and hugged her close, for they were in the kitchen where there was no one to see.

  «I know you weren’t flirting with Cal,» Whip said softly. «But if you had smiled like that at me, I’d have wanted to do…this.»

  As he spoke, the humor in Whip’s eyes gave way to the passion he no longer could conceal. He bent his head and took Shannon’s mouth in a quick, deep, hungry kiss.

  «And then I would have wanted more, so damned much more,» Whip said softly, breathing hard, holding Shannon against him. «I want you, honey girl. Virgin or widow or wife, heaven or hell or everything between, I want all of it.»

  With a low sound, Whip let Shannon slide down his body, making no attempt to conceal his arousal from her.

  Her breath fragmented over his name.

  «Tell Cal and Willy that I went to check on Sugarfoot,» Whip said hoarsely.

  The back door banged, leaving Shannon alone in the kitchen with her heart beating frantically and the taste of Whip in her mouth like wine.

  14

  The next morning a wind howled down the peaks, herding brief, wild thunderstorms down the long green valley where Caleb and Willow had built their home. As Whip came inside, he held the doorknob carefully, making sure the front door didn’t slip from his grasp and slam shut behind him.

  Shannon was in the living room, sitting by a window in one of the chairs Caleb had made. In her hands was one of Willow’s gingham blouses. Shannon was making tiny, neat stitches in the sleeve where the seam had given way.

  «Where’s Willy?» Whip asked.

  «She’s taking a nap with Ethan.»

  Whip smiled almost sheepishly. «Cal told me that we woke Ethan up with our dancing last night.»

  Pink brightened Shannon’s cheeks, put there by the memory of Whip’s hard kiss and even harder body.

  «Ethan wasn’t awake for long,» Shannon said. «He went right back to sleep when Willow sang to him. She has such a beautiful voice.»

  «You should hear her sing with Reno and Eve,» Whip said, smiling. «Together they have the kind of harmony that would make angels weep with envy. Christmas was a special time last year, with all of us being together and the carols being so beautifully sung.»

  «It must have been wonderful,» Shannon said, her voice wistful.

  Whip looked at Shannon. Her face looked less drawn now than it had a week ago. So did her body. Sitting in the sturdy house with mending in her hands and a glass window nearby with sunlight shining through, she was as relaxed as a cat lying next to a warm hearth.

  «You like it here, don’t you?» Whip asked.

  «It would be hard not to. Caleb and Willow are generous with their hearts and their home. Seeing them makes me realize how much my parents missed in their marriage.»

  «Reno and Eve are the same as Cal and Willy. So are Wolfe and Jessi. Must be something in the western air.»

  Shannon glanced away from Whip, not wanting him to see the emotion in her eyes when she looked at him and thought of a home, a marriage, a sharing of life and love and children with Whip.

  But that wouldn’t happen. Shannon knew it as surely as she knew that Whip was a yondering man. Yet she couldn’t stop loving him.

  So she looked away from what she knew she couldn’t have.

  But Shannon didn’t turn aside quickly enough. Whip had already seen her dreams. He had seen the hope she couldn’t deny, and the love, and the sadness of knowing that someday he would leave her. The fact that Shannon didn’t scold him or demand his love in return made Whip feel more trapped and restless than ever — and at the same time, it made him want her until every muscle in his body was flexed in the brutal tug-of-war between restraint and consummation.

  Whip glanced quickly at the hallway that led to the bedrooms. The door to the nursery was closed. So was the door to Willow and Caleb’s bedroom.

  Knowing he shouldn’t, unable to stop himself, Whip crossed the living room with a few swift strides, took the mending from Shannon’s hands, and lifted her without warning into his arms. He was rougher than he meant to be, because he was hungrier than he had known.

  «Whip?» Shannon asked, startled.

  «Don’t fight me. Kiss me and let me kiss you. Let me have you, even if only in this way.»

  Shannon’s lips were still parted in surprise when Whip took her mouth. His tongue shot between her teeth and he groaned when he tasted the minty flavor and sultry textures of her tongue. She made a small sound in response and lifted herself toward Whip’s kiss, giving her mouth to him with a hot sensual honesty that made him ache.

  Whip pushed deeper and deeper into Shannon’s sweet mouth, wanting all of her, wanting it here and now, hot and wild, burning him all the way to his soul. The sounds she made deep in her throat, the eager glide of her tongue against his, and the hungry arc of her body pressed against his erect flesh all told Whip that Shannon wanted him the same way he wanted her; hot and wild, here and now, no promises and no regrets, nothing but the driving rhythms of their bodies locked together in elemental hunger…honey and ecstasy and flames twisting together, burning.

  With a low cry Whip tore his mouth free of Shannon ’s, knowing that kissing her any more was like throwing alcohol on a raging fire. But it was too late to stop the blaze that had been ignited. Already he was stretched upon a white-hot rack of desire. He was shaking, burning, control slipping from his grasp one savage heartbeat at a time.

  «God, woman,» Whip said roughly, muffling his voice against Shannon’s neck. «You’re driving me crazy.»

  «I didn’t mean —»

  «I know,» he interrupted, his voice raw and low. «My fault. I should know by now that kissing you only makes it hurt worse. But when I’m not kissing you I can’t believe that anything can hurt worse than that.»

  Shannon felt the raking shudder that went through Whip. She caught his tormented face between her hands and kissed him lightly, gently, repeatedly, wanting to take the pain and darkness from his face, from his body.

  Whip shuddered again, fighting for control.

  «Every time I look across the room and see your eyes watching me,» he said in a low, uneven voice, «I know what you’re thinking, what you’re remembering, what you’re feeling. Your eyes tell me that you would lie down and hold out your arms and give me everything I need. And I need you, S
hannon. I need you until I wake up sweating and hard and aching from forehead to heels. But I can’t take you and I can’t stop wanting you and I’m on fire!»

  «Hush,» Shannon murmured between tender kisses. «It’s all right, yondering man. It’s all right. You can take me and end the aching and not have to give up the sunrise you’ve never seen.»

  Shannon’s brushing kisses, like her words, were both gentle and deeply beautiful to Whip, a stark temptation and an equally stark admission of her love. He knew he should stop the words and the kisses and the promises that could not, must not, be kept.

  But Whip could no more turn away from the gentle, terrifying beauty of Shannon’s caresses than he could turn away from a sunrise softly condensing out of winter’s longest night, radiance calling his name in all the colors of love.

  «Shannon,» Whip whispered. «Honey girl. Stop. You’re tearing me apart.»

  «Then tell me what to do. I want to ease you, not hurt you more. Please, Whip. Tell me. Teach me.»

  The thought of it almost brought Whip to his knees. A bolt of violent desire transfixed his body and dragged a raw sound from deep in his chest. He closed his eyes and grappled with a kind of hunger he had never felt for a woman. Like Shannon’s words and kisses, the depth of his hunger was an unimaginable lure and a shocking warning of his own frail hold on self-control.

  «Whip?» Shannon whispered. «Please. Teach me.»

  With his last shreds of restraint, Whip reminded himself that he was in the living room of his sister’s home. It was full daylight. Willow could awaken from her nap at any time and walk into the room.

  «No,» Whip said roughly, setting Shannon abruptly away from him. «Don’t ask me. Don’t tempt me. Don’t —»

  «But you were the one who —»

  «— tell me that you would let me open those men’s trousers of yours and put my hand between your legs and feel your honey pooling in my hand like silky fire. Don’t tell me it would be all right to unfasten my pants and push all my need and my aching and my hunger deep into you. Don’t tell me you would let me take your maidenhead.»