A SEAL’s Resolve

by Cora Seton

  The sound of a motor brought her up short.

  “It’s them,” Raina called out.

  Hope shifted the kittens as the snowmobile rattled to a stop. Thank God; she wasn’t sure how much longer she could walk.

  “Watch it, idiot!”

  “You watch it!”

  “Get that dog away from me.”

  Byron and Blake both clambered off the machine and stumbled away from it—and each other. Byron set a wiggling Daisy down in the snow and she loped in a circle. Hope hadn’t seen what had happened, but Blake’s short temper seemed to have frayed even more since they’d last seen the men.

  “This is ridiculous,” Blake said as he approached the women. “It’ll take us forever to get anywhere. I don’t understand why Curtis can’t run me to Bozeman, rent a truck and come back for the rest of you.”

  “I’m not leaving anyone out in the elements that long. Not in this storm.”

  Four hours later, things hadn’t gotten any better. The Ski-Doo had bogged down in the powdery snow more than once, and the snow was so deep it was slipping into their boots as they walked. Hope was frozen through and through. Raina was limping noticeably. When Curtis pulled up to them again, with Byron and Blake—and Daisy—in tow, he said, “We’re stopping for the night.”

  “Are you insane?” Blake demanded. “We’ll freeze to death!”

  “No, we won’t. We’ll get warm and dry, and tomorrow we’ll get to Bozeman. I promise.”

  “Where will we sleep?”

  Hope turned around, took in the way Raina was drooping and went to her, shifting the kittens so she could put a hand on Raina’s arm.

  “You okay?”

  “I don’t know. I missed dinner with Ben’s grandparents.”

  Hope wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Raina so forlorn and shot a worried look at Curtis. He seemed to take in the situation. “Byron, go find us some wood—dry, if you can. Look for anything that might have been sheltered. Blake, help me pull the sled off the road. At least the ground is level here. We want to be in among the trees where it’s sheltered.”

  Hope kept Raina company while the men began to set up camp, thrilled by how quickly Curtis managed to unpack his supplies, throw down a thick, waterproof tarp and get a small tent set up. After tossing in a couple of sleeping bags, he ordered Hope to get Raina inside.

  “Strip off everything that’s wet out here,” he said. “Get into dry, warm gear in there, get in those sleeping bags—zipped together—and warm up.”

  Hope did as she was told, setting the basket of cats inside the tent, then helping Raina off with her wet gear. Curtis tramped down the snow in a large circle around them and was building a fire, but she couldn’t think how he’d get it lit in this weather, even if the thick cover of trees was providing shelter from the worst of the snow.

  “Leave your gear,” Curtis told her when she hesitated outside the tent. “I’ll do what I can to get it dry.”

  She slipped inside gratefully and was soon snuggled down with Raina and a number of squirming, furry shapes. Daisy joined them, content to lie down and press against the side of the sleeping bags, adding her heat to the rest.

  The kittens seemed as glad of their warmth as she was. Raina had zipped the sleeping bags together, and quarters were close, but Hope supposed that was a good thing under the circumstances. Exhausted mentally and physically, heartsick at the thought of how much time they were losing on this journey, Hope must have slipped into sleep.

  She woke up some time later, when Curtis slipped two cups of soup through the tent flap. “Eat up. Both of you,” he commanded. “Then go back to sleep if you can.”

  Hope felt a little better after she’d eaten, especially since the dry socks she’d slid on had actually warmed her feet. She set her empty cup near the tent flap and shut her eyes—just to rest them.

  And fell asleep once more.

  “How many miles do you think we’ve gone?” Byron asked in between slurping his soup.

  “Thirty, maybe.” Curtis braced himself.

  Bryon dropped his spoon into his cup. “Thirty? That means—”

  “Ninety to go.”

  “Jesus.”

  Blake looked from one to the other. “Tomorrow the plows will be out,” he said.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Curtis gathered his thoughts. “This isn’t just a snowstorm,” he told the other men. “This is a blizzard. A true Montana blizzard can go on for days.”

  “Do you have enough fuel in that snowmobile to get us through?” Byron asked.

  “I still say you should take me to Bozeman right now,” Blake said. “One trip. Get it done. Get help for your friends. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be Bozeman—just get us back to the highway and to the next little town.”

  “He might be right. I’d stay with the women,” Byron said.

  “What if I get halfway there and the snowmobile breaks down? What if I have to walk the rest of the way? What if someone gets hurt back here while you’re waiting for me? We stick together,” Curtis asserted.

  He was probably being overcautious. Blake was right; he could make a beeline for the next town, get help and get back here—

  But so many things could go wrong. The thought of riding away from Hope, and not coming back for hours—

  He couldn’t do it.

  “All three of us going to sleep in that tonight?” Blake nodded grumpily at the second two-man tent Curtis had set up next to the one Raina and Hope occupied.

  “Going to be close quarters,” Byron said.

  Closer than they even knew. He only had two more sleeping bags for the three of them. They were lucky he even had that many. He’d brought an extra one just as a matter of principle, not thinking they’d need it.

  “I’ll stay with the women,” he heard himself say. “They’re smaller. There’s room for me.”

  “How come you get to sleep with them?” Blake asked.

  Curtis gave him a level look. “Because I trust me.”

  Blake snorted, but he didn’t push it. Byron looked like he might, but he closed his mouth again when Curtis raised an eyebrow. Curtis banked the fire, made sure Byron and Blake weren’t going to come to blows as they got into their tent, and undid the zip fly to the women’s tent.

  Both Hope and Raina seemed to be sleeping, which presented him with a problem. He couldn’t even get in the tent without waking them up, let alone get under any covers.

  When he cleared his throat, Hope turned over groggily.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Me.” He kept his voice low. “I need to get in there with you. I’ll be a gentleman, I promise. We need to share our warmth, though.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She rustled around and drew nearer to Raina. Curtis realized she was shifting kittens around. Daisy whined but settled in again.

  When there was room, he eased into the tent—and into the sleeping bags, too, coming into contact with Hope all over, who was squished between him and Raina.

  Awkward.

  “Sorry,” he said ruefully, although he wasn’t sorry about being close to Hope.

  “There’s not much room,” Hope said. Her face was so close to his he could easily have kissed her. Lord knew he wanted to, but this wasn’t the time.

  Not with Raina on the other side of her.

  Curtis gently turned Hope around, tugged her against him so his bicep pillowed her head and wrapped his other arm around her waist. “Now there’s room.”

  A stifled sound was her only reply.

  “Go to sleep,” Curtis told her.

  “I am asleep,” she asserted.

  But Curtis was wide awake—and he was pretty sure Hope was wide awake, too.

  This was all perfectly innocent, Hope told herself again. Many layers of clothing separated her from Curtis, even if his arms surrounded her—and her body was pressed up against his.

  She fitted nicely in his embrace, though, and the feel of him against her woke something inside her she hadn’t felt in a lon
g time. It took her a minute to classify the fluttery ache.

  Desire.

  Plain and simple, she wanted the man.

  She couldn’t have him, though. Couldn’t betray the slightest interest in him, either. She’d read the signs that he was interested in her. Curtis watched her in a way that made her feel—tingly. He was considering her. Wondering how she could fit in his life.

  She didn’t fit—at all, she reminded herself.

  She didn’t have time for men. Certainly not for large, muscular, sexy, funny men like Curtis. Men who could make you forget you even owned a planner full of things to do.

  The problem was, she could get serious about a guy like Curtis. If that wasn’t the case, then maybe it would be fine to flirt a little, play a little—have a little fun. She’d never thought of herself as that kind of woman, but if no one got hurt—

  She’d get hurt, though. Curtis was—

  Far too interesting. Far too breathtaking, if she was honest. Every move he made was so different from the moves she made. It made her want to study him, too. Find out what made him tick.

  See if she could make him tick faster.

  Curtis shifted behind her, and Hope stifled a moan. He was so close.

  What if she turned around? What if she pressed a kiss to the underside of his chin?

  Raina.

  Even if she was the kind of woman to throw herself at a strange man, she was in bed—literally—with her best friend and a jumble of kittens.

  Talk about being chaperoned.

  Curtis shifted again.

  “Stop that,” she whispered.

  He did—for a moment. Then he tightened his arm around her waist. Pulled her closer. Made her thoroughly aware that her bottom was pressed against his crotch. “Go to sleep,” he whispered, his voice tickling her ear.

  “I’m trying.”

  Curtis’s chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, and Hope’s breath caught.

  “Just relax,” he whispered. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll get you to that wedding.”

  Hope wondered why the thought of getting to their destination and parting ways left her feeling so bereft. She was going to miss Curtis, and she was disappointed that she wasn’t going to get to know such an interesting man. Then there was Base Camp, which had proved far more intriguing than she would have guessed from Raina’s descriptions. Why did her plans, which had seemed so crucial just days ago, suddenly make her feel…

  Hope must have dozed off, but she opened her eyes again when something bright exploded in her face. Curtis swore, tried to move but was trapped by the sleeping bag, and Byron lurched back before he could get free. Byron quickly zipped up the tent again.

  “Damn it, you’re breaking the rules. No filming in our tents,” Curtis growled after him, trying to turn over but only succeeding in getting tangled up with Hope.

  “What’s going on?” Raina asked sleepily.

  “I wasn’t filming. I was taking a photograph.” Byron’s voice came from outside the tent, moving farther away as he spoke.

  Hope managed to push up on her elbow, took in the fact it was light enough to see clearly inside the tent—and reached out to unzip the flap again. A whoosh of cold air came in. Outside, snowflakes still sheeted down.

  As one of the kittens tottered out of the sleeping bag, Raina sat up, took in Hope—and Curtis—and smiled. “This is cozy.”

  “Sure is,” Byron called from outside. “I got a great photograph of it, too.”

  “Byron!” Curtis zipped up the tent flap again before the kitten could escape. “Sorry, ladies. Guess it’s time to get up.” He eased his way out of the bag, sat down beside it and began to pull on more layers, a difficult task in the cramped quarters.

  All of Hope’s longing returned full force.

  She’d slept all night against the handsome man, and she wanted to do it again soon.

  She had to think of her future, though. Had to focus on getting Raina to her wedding.

  “Yellowstone,” she said out loud.

  Raina, catching her remark, rolled her eyes. “Yellowstone isn’t everything,” she said, sitting up.

  “Yes, it is.”

  She caught something that sounded an awful lot like, “…lead a horse to water, but you can’t…” before Raina climbed out of the bag, too, and began to pull on more clothes.

  Chapter Six

  ‡

  “Boss, we’ve got a problem,” Byron said some minutes later when Curtis climbed out of the tent, still miffed that the young man had seen fit to cut short his time with Hope. Now Hope was stiff and huffy, put off by the idea of being photographed sleeping in close quarters with a strange man.

  “You’re right, we do. Stop cock-blocking me.”

  Byron’s eyebrows shot skyward. “I think it’s Raina who was cock-blocking you. She’s the one who spent the night in the tent with you two. I just took a photo.”

  “And you aren’t going to take any more.”

  Byron shrugged. “That’s not the problem.”

  “What is?” Curtis growled. He wasn’t ready for all this—not before he’d fully woken up, or gotten his lust for Hope under control. The snow falling in a never-ending steady hiss was getting to him, too.

  “The Ski-Doo. I went to take a photograph a few minutes ago. Smelled gas.”

  It was Curtis’s turn to shrug. “That happens.”

  “A strong smell of gas. I think the tank’s leaking.”

  Curtis swore and followed Byron to the machine without another word. After examining the snowmobile thoroughly, he had to admit Byron was right. The gas tank was leaking from a small crack they must have sustained somewhere during yesterday’s ride. Back at Base Camp, he could fix it in a jiffy, but not out here.

  “Now what?” Byron asked.

  “Now we go on foot,” Curtis sighed. He’d been on enough missions to know things rarely went as you wished they would, but this particular mission had gone off the rails early and thoroughly.

  No, he corrected himself. It had gone off the rails the moment he’d conceived of it. He’d convinced himself he would be a hero for getting Raina to her wedding despite the storm, and he’d hoped that his heroism would convince Hope to fall head over heels for him. That wasn’t likely. Hope had her own plans—and a handful of days was too short a time to convince any woman to love him. Hell, he’d dated Angela for years and she’d left him at the altar.

  He probably should have stayed back at Base Camp and kept haunting those internet dating sites. He should have let Boone or someone else take Hope and Raina to Bozeman while he found someone as desperate as he was to get married. He didn’t just want anyone, though.

  He wanted Hope.

  Curtis gave himself a mental shake. He had to face facts. It was turning into a long shot he’d get Raina to her wedding on time. It was a much longer one that he’d get Hope to the altar.

  All he could do was press on and assume that Boone would find him someone he could wed and spend the next few months with—at least until the end of the show. He wouldn’t be able to help with the baby-making part—

  Curtis swallowed hard, glancing at Hope again, picturing her cradling an infant, an infant they’d created together, and something shifted in him that had him reaching out and grabbing the handlebar of the snowmobile to steady himself.

  “Hey, you okay?” Byron looked so alarmed, Curtis had to grin despite the turmoil inside him.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Just… life, you know?” Hell, now Byron had that silly little video camera trained on him. Turn that off.”

  “No can do.” Byron danced away from him when Curtis reached for the camera. “Life’s pretty fucked up sometimes, isn’t it?”

  He was right. Sometimes it was fucked up. Sometimes it was wonderful. If Hope was ever cradling his baby, it would be downright spectacular.

  But her being so close—and so out of his reach at the same time—

  That was definitely fucked up.

  “Let’s get
back to the others.”

  “You should just tell her, you know,” Byron said.

  “Tell who what?”

  “Tell Hope what’s going on. That you need to marry by Monday. That you want her.”

  “She’d run like hell,” Curtis said.

  “Maybe. Or maybe she’d surprise you.”

  Curtis doubted it. That wasn’t the way his love-life went.

  He busied himself unstrapping the cross-country skis he’d packed for just such an eventuality, and Byron sighed. “Fine. Be a wimp. Hey, there are only three sets.” He gestured to the skis.

  “When I started, there were only three people going.”

  “You were supposed to take me along,” Byron pointed out.

  “Wasn’t going to happen. Nothing personal,” Curtis added, seeing Byron’s stung look. “But I don’t need someone following me around taking video of everything I do.”

  “You’re wrong. That’s exactly what you need,” Byron countered and stopped filming. He tucked the little camera back into his jacket. “Remember what I said about Fulsom. He’s losing interest in you guys. You aren’t giving him what he asked for. Every one of you keeps secrets and hides things from us. He’s talking about throwing—Shit,” Byron added. “Never mind.”

  “Throwing what?” Curtis asked as Byron walked away. He hurried after the young man. Yanked him to a stop. “Tell me!”

  “The show,” Byron said. He shook his head at Curtis’s incomprehension. “Who the hell do you think robbed the cold storage room?” He pulled away and kept going.

  Curtis stared after him. Someone had broken into the admittedly unlocked cold storage room they’d built for their vegetable harvest some weeks back. Had emptied it while all of them were attending an event at the manor. It had set them back considerably as far as food was concerned, and while the gardening crew had hurried to up their game as far as hydroponics and food production in the greenhouses went, it was still going to make things difficult during the rest of the winter.

  Fulsom was behind it?

  What else might he do to make them lose?