Secrets of the Highlander

by Janet Chapman

  He pulled the liners out of her soggy boots and set them beside the fire to dry, then stood up, picked up her snowsuit, and draped it over another branch, then he finally set the dry sack beside her. He slipped into his jacket and obediently started wiping his hair with his shirt.

  Megan took pity on him; he was cold and tired, and adding tension to that mix was cruel. “Look, I know we needed my gear if we have to spend the night out here. I…I just didn’t want anything to happen to you,” she whispered, feeling her face flush—and not due to the roaring fire.

  He stopped wiping his hair.

  She shrugged, hoping to appear more nonchalant than she felt. “I guess I’ve gotten used to having you around this past week.”

  “I’m not going away, Megan.”

  “I know.”

  He came over and sat beside her on the boughs, taking her hands and holding them in his. “I need to talk to you about what I said that day I sent you away.”

  She tried to pull back, but he held firm.

  “I didn’t mean it, Megan. I’d walk through the fires of hell before I’d ask you to do that.”

  “I know.”

  “What do you mean, you know?”

  “I figured that out about five minutes after my plane took off. I was looking down at the nesting sites we’d been working together, and realized that anyone who handled those goslings and eggs the way you did wouldn’t ask me to end my pregnancy.”

  He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her in a fierce hug. “I knew you wouldn’t do it. But nothing I said was working, so I decided to make you hate me so much you’d pack up and leave on the supply plane that very day,” he whispered into her hair.

  “It worked.”

  His embrace tightened. “I am so damned sorry for what I put you through.”

  “And I’m sorry I realized what you were doing too late.”

  He leaned back to look her in the eyes. “I love you, Megan. When I first arrived on the tundra and you greeted me, I felt like I was being run over by a herd of caribou.”

  She opened her mouth, but he pulled her back against him again. “Shhh, just listen. I want you to think about us getting married. We can live here in Pine Creek, or wherever you want. I can work from anywhere.” He cupped her head to his shoulder, stroking her hair. “Don’t answer me right now. I just want you to think about it.”

  She tried to pull away to speak.

  “Shhh,” he said again, holding her in what was starting to feel like a desperate hug. “Just let what I said sink in for a while. Just…just give me a chance.”

  She mumbled into his shoulder, but he just squeezed her tighter. The poor guy was shaking like a leaf, and Megan suspected it had nothing to do with his dip in the lake—despite his feeling as icy as a wet polar bear. She gave up trying to explain that he was making her cold all over again, and wrapped her arms around his waist inside his jacket to share what little heat she had left.

  The baby gave a sharp kick.

  “Holy hell,” Jack said, jerking back to stare down at her belly. “He just kicked me!”

  “He does that sometimes,” she said, smiling at his shocked expression. She reached out and took his hand and set it on her stomach. “Wait a minute and he’ll do it again. Damn, now you’ve got me calling it a him!”

  As if on cue, her belly started thumping like a snare drum. Jack laughed out loud and bent down and kissed the spot where the baby was kicking—then just as suddenly straightened, his face a dull red. He scrambled back to the fire and started stoking it again, even though it was roaring brightly enough to be seen from space.

  Megan leaned back against the tree with a smile, running her fingers softly over her belly. Here was the man she’d fallen in love with on the tundra. Whenever he’d worked up the nerve to kiss her, he would turn red, get sort of clumsy, and all but apologize. One time after kissing her senseless, he’d turned and walked straight into the tent pole, bringing the entire canvas down on top of them. She was beginning to suspect his nerdiness wasn’t an act after all, since Jack Stone didn’t appear to have any more finesse than Wayne Ferris.

  She was glad the nerd hadn’t disappeared completely.

  Apparently realizing he was about to start a forest fire, Jack turned his attention to the dry sack. He pulled out a mess kit, a neatly coiled rope, a hatchet, some power bars, and a small plastic container. Megan knew the container held fishing line, a mirror and compass, several lighters, and an ozone light stick to purify water for drinking.

  “No radio?” he said, pulling out the sleeping bag and peering inside the empty sack.

  Megan shrugged. “We always carry the satellite phone. Besides, that sack is rarely ever opened because we rarely get into this kind of trouble.” She looked him directly in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack. I should have listened to you about not traveling back on the lake. I was being stubborn and stupid.”

  He unrolled the sleeping bag and shook it open, then motioned for her to move so he could lay it out over the boughs. “You’re not in an exclusive club, sweetheart. We’d be here at least a week if I listed all my transgressions.” He sat down beside her. “Don’t ever apologize for following your passion, Megan. That’s what I love the most about you.”

  “My passion?”

  “Your passion for life, sweetheart. I swear you actually glow with energy when you get involved in something.” He turned to face her, his expression almost eager. “So what first attracted you to me? Be honest, now.”

  Good Lord, he really didn’t have a clue, did he? No guy in his right mind asked a woman that. “Honestly?” she clarified.

  He nodded very seriously.

  “Your size.”

  It apparently took a moment for that to assimilate before he suddenly turned away and started messing with the fire again.

  “Hey—you asked for my honest answer, and I was first attracted to your size,” she told his broad, muscular back. She rolled her eyes, since he couldn’t see her. “It’s not like you’re puny or anything. You’re just not supertall. Why are you so sensitive about your height, anyway?”

  “I’m not. Or I wasn’t until I met your family,” he muttered. “With your gene pool, my son will be looking down his nose at me by the time he’s twelve.” Megan immediately wiped the grin off her face when he glanced over his shoulder at her. “You little brat,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re laughing at me.”

  She immediately shook her head, then ended up nodding. “But in a sweet way. And only because I don’t get why you’re being so sensitive.” She rolled her eyes right at him this time. “What sort of guy asks a question like that, anyway?”

  “I thought women liked sensitive men. Aren’t you always complaining that we don’t talk about our feelings?”

  Well, he didn’t seem frozen to death any more. In fact, he looked rather hot. And sexy. And desirable. “I think we should go to bed,” she blurted out without thinking.

  He pretty near fell in the fire, scrambling to his feet. “I’m going to get some more firewood. Hit the bushes if you need to, then go to bed.” He started to leave, then turned back. “Damn, I forgot you don’t have any boots.”

  He walked over to the pile of gear he’d brought back from his own sled, and tossed her a pair of socks. Megan noticed that he’d also brought the two full bottles of beer as well as one of the empties. He picked up an empty bottle and shoved it in his jacket pocket—his hand re-emerging with her bra straps.

  “Okay,” she finally admitted. “If you must know, I destroyed my bra to tie my pants closed at the bottom so I could walk.”

  He tossed the straps at her with a laugh. “Good idea. At least your little swim didn’t freeze your brain,” he said. “After you put on the socks, go ahead and tie the pants closed. That should keep the socks dry while you to go to the bathroom. I might be gone a few minutes, but I’ll stay within shouting distance. I need to find a spring for drinking water.”

  “That’s about as eas
y as finding a needle in a haystack, especially in the dark.”

  “I have a hunch there’s one close by,” he said, walking out of camp.

  Once again left staring at the spot where he disappeared, Megan decided that Jack’s hunches were starting to annoy her. Ninety percent accurate, her ass. She was lucky if her hunches were right half the time.

  She didn’t bother putting on the socks or tying her pant bottoms closed, since she was going to have to take off the damn suit anyway. She walked a couple of yards past the tree while staying within sight of the fire, which only served to create more treacherous shadows than light her way. She stubbed her toe, cursed a bit, and hopped from foot to freezing foot with gritted teeth. She’d give her right arm for male plumbing for just five minutes!

  She did her duty and ran stumbling back into camp without bothering to put the ski pants back on. She crawled up on the sleeping bag and stuck her feet in front of the fire, again gritting her teeth when they started to prickle as they thawed.

  She finally put on Jack’s socks, hung up his ski pants, and checked to see if her own pants were dry. They weren’t, but she hadn’t intended to put them on yet, anyway. She balled his slightly damp shirt up for a pillow, lay down, and pulled the edge of the sleeping bag over her bare legs.

  She finally closed her eyes with a smile, listening to branches snapping and rotten logs quietly breaking as Jack gathered their night supply of fuel. So he liked her passion, did he? Well, she’d show him some passion. The man had to go to sleep sometime tonight.

  He returned twenty minutes later, set down the wood, and surveyed camp. “You’re not wearing the ski pants,” he said, eyeing them on the branch.

  “I thought it would be warmer if we don’t wear much clothing, so our body heat can transfer to each other.”

  He sat down beside her and took off his boots, placing them within reach. He then pulled a compact revolver from the back waist of his pants and tucked it inside one of the boots.

  Megan scooted over to make room for him to lie down. “You should take off your pants. They’re damp.”

  He hesitated, eyeing her over his shoulder. “We’re going to have to snuggle.”

  “If I remember correctly, you’re a very good snuggler.”

  His cheeks flushed deep red. He quickly stood and dropped his pants but left his long johns on. “Scoot toward the fire. I’ll sleep in the back.”

  “But then you’ll get the edge of the sleeping bag to cover up with.” It was only a single bag, and opened up, there wasn’t enough material to both lie on and cover up with.

  He picked her up when she didn’t move fast enough and set her down closer to the fire. “You’ll have me covering you,” he said, crawling in behind her and on his side so they were spooned together.

  He wrapped one arm around her waist and cupped her belly protectively, tucked his legs over hers, and settled down with a tired sigh. Megan stared into the roaring fire, listening as his breathing slowly evened out, and she knew he had fallen asleep. What was it with guys, that they could simply sleep on demand?

  She wasn’t so lucky, as her mind kept flitting from one thought to another. She thought about Kenzie and the creature they’d seen, and about Mark Collins and her samples he apparently wanted. And she thought about Jack’s proposal, her heart telling her to go for it, and her practical left brain cautioning her to wait until she got the report from the investigator.

  But then she thought about the two months she’d shared with Jack on the tundra, and how they had been the happiest two months of her life.

  Megan finally turned in his embrace and whispered, “Make love to me, Jack.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jack woke with a start, unsure if he had dreamed the words or if Megan really had said them. Either way was trouble. When he opened his eyes, Megan’s face was mere inches from his, her expression expectant. Before he could say anything, she cupped his cheeks and touched her lips to his—not with her usual damn-the-torpedoes-full-speed-ahead urgency, but with endearingly gentle determination.

  His arms automatically tightened around her. “This isn’t wise, sweetheart,” he whispered, even as his lips moved of their own volition across her jaw toward her ear. “You’re just restless and edgy right now.”

  “No, I’m horny,” she said, her hands gripping his hair to better direct his exploration of her throat. She tossed back her head to expose her neck, and arched into him with a shiver.

  When in hell had she removed all her clothes?

  “I want you, Jack. I want to feel you inside me.”

  It sure as hell didn’t get any more direct than that, did it? And she hadn’t called him Wayne, so she was fully aware of what she was asking. Having as little willpower as a bear in a honey hive when it came to Megan, Jack locked his mouth over hers before she could change her mind.

  She rewarded him with a soft sound of approval and released his hair to slide her hands up under the hem of his shirt, not stopping until she reached her target. Jack knew she was particularly fond of his chest, since she’d told him often enough.

  Being quite fond of hers, too, he covered one of her breasts with his free hand, surprised at how full it felt—until he remembered why. He handled her gently, letting his thumb brush softly across her distended nipple, which proved to be very sensitive. Megan’s soft sound of pleasure turned into a full-blown moan as she arched into his touch, her legs moving restlessly against his as her fingers curled into the muscles of his chest.

  Her response encouraged Jack to continue reacquainting himself with her beautiful body, all while drinking his fill of her equally delightful mouth. She obviously had the same thought, as one of her hands left his chest in search of a more interesting target.

  Jack chased after her, actually surprised she’d waited as long as she had. “Slow down,” he whispered into her mouth. “We’ve got all night, sweetheart.”

  She skillfully dodged his attempt to capture her hand and had her fingers wrapped around him before he could even rear back. Jack sucked in his breath and released a shuddering sigh.

  Marauding Megan was back.

  Lord, he loved her for knowing exactly what she wanted and not being afraid to go after it. Obviously liking what she found inside his long johns, she made another interesting sound, which Jack answered with a shout when her fingers feathered over his scrotum.

  “Take off your clothes,” she murmured, wiggling around to tug at his shirt with her other hand.

  He immediately sat up and pulled his shirt off over his head, then reached down and slid his long johns off without Megan’s help, as she was still locked on her target, determined to drive him mad. Just as soon as he was free of his clothes, Jack grabbed both her hands and wrestled them over her head so he could kiss her again.

  He should have remembered that this in no way disabled her. Now that they were both naked, her toes became her new weapons of choice. She ran one foot up the length of his leg and somehow managed to wiggle halfway beneath him so that he settled between her thighs.

  Locking both of her hands in one of his without breaking their kiss, Jack slid his free hand down between them and had just found her sensitive little bud when he was poked—several times and rather sharply—in the belly.

  “Holy hell!” he yelped, scrambling back so suddenly he fell off the bed of boughs. He stared at Megan’s naked, moving stomach. She looked like she’d swallowed a basketball, it was so perfectly round—except when the tiny creature inside was doing calisthenics.

  Dammit to hell, he couldn’t make love to her with their baby in there!

  Megan burst out laughing. “I wish you could see your face right now,” she chortled. She stopped caressing her wiggling belly and reached out to him. “Come on, Jack. You’re going to get frostbite.”

  He couldn’t stop staring at her belly. “We can’t…I’m not going to…” He finally looked at her. “Our kid will know what we’re doing, Megan. He’ll feel me when…when I’m…” He tra
iled off to a whisper, shaking his head because he couldn’t even say it out loud in front of the baby.

  She laughed at him again. “Of course he’ll feel us. He’s supposed to. Having his parents make love is reassuring to him. Come on,” she said, wiggling her fingers as she reached out to him. “Show our baby how much you love us both.”

  Jack wiped a hand over his sweating face. He couldn’t do it now if God Himself held a gun to his head. He climbed out of the snow and back into bed, pulling her down beside him so they were spooned together with her back to him.

  She gave a frustrated huff, then started snickering. He threw a leg over hers to make her quit squirming. “Go to sleep. You need your rest. We don’t know if we’ll have to walk out of here tomorrow or not.”

  Her entire body expanded, then deflated with a heavy sigh. “You are such a nerd.”

  Megan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of all the parochial, nonsensical notions—imagine not being able to make love because the baby might feel it? Did he honestly think pregnant women didn’t have sex? And now that she’d made up her mind to do it with him, she wasn’t about to not do it for another few months, that was for sure.

  Megan stared into the fire, listening to Jack’s breathing slowly even out again. How was she going to get him past this foolish notion? He said he loved her, so by God, he needed to prove it! Besides, she liked making love; she was a healthy woman who appreciated an athletic romp in bed with a sexy man, especially when that man was unequivocally into her.

  And for the first time in five months, Megan was beginning to believe Jack truly did love her. Didn’t he realize a sweet bout of lovemaking was just what she needed?

  He was so clueless.

  She smiled despite herself. Surely he was trainable. Her mistake tonight had been asking him to make love. He was a guy, wasn’t he? And didn’t guys have sex on the brain 24/7? She should have just quietly pulled down his long johns and climbed on top. He wouldn’t have felt the baby in that position, and by the time he’d realized what was happening he would have been way too involved.