«But —»
«If you touch me,» Shannon said over Whip’s voice, «I’ll really cry and that won’t do any good at all.»
Whip moved with alarming speed and strength, yet his hands were gentle when he pulled Shannon into his arms and wrapped her close against his body.
«I m-meant it,» Shannon said brokenly, refusing to meet Whip’s eyes.
«I believe you.»
He bent and kissed her eyelashes where silver tears already glittered.
«Go ahead and cry, honey girl. Cry hard and long. For both of us.»
A shudder went through Shannon as she fought against herself and the man who held her, cherished her, protected her, wanted her…but loved only the sunrise he had never seen.
Then she looked up at Whip’s eyes and saw her own helpless pain reflected there, an anguish that was all the more intense because he had never expected to feel it.
Cry hard and long. For both of us.
The fierce tension in Shannon’s body broke. She pressed her face against Whip’s neck and wept as though everything of life had been taken from her except pain itself.
Eyes closed, jaw clenched, Whip held Shannon, rocking her slowly, trying to ease the anguish that came from a hurt he had never meant to give, an agony that sprang from what he was and didn’t know how to change.
Yondering man.
After a time Whip carried Shannon to his horse, for he couldn’t force himself to let go of her. They rode down the mountain together, followed by a long-legged mule and a packhorse, with a huge hound trotting alongside.
Somewhere between Rifle Sight’s dreams of gold and the cabin’s lonely reality, Shannon’s tears finally stopped. Even then, Whip didn’t release her. He simply held her against his chest, his arms close around her as though he expected her to be taken from him without warning.
When they reached the cabin, Whip carried Shannon inside and put her on the bunk. Despite the heat of the day, the cabin was chilly, for no fire had been lit for many nights. He pulled the thick bearskin blanket over her and tucked it beneath her chin.
«I’ll be back as soon as I’ve taken care of the animals,» Whip said.
Shannon started to protest, then simply nodded agreement. She had never felt so tired in her life, or so cold. Not even after she had tried to dig Prettyface out of the creek’s icy trap.
When Whip returned he found Shannon curled beneath the heavy, furry blanket, staring at the rich sunset colors that were seeping through the ill-fitting shutters. A narrow shaft of red-gold light lay across her eyes, transforming them into an orchid color that was as exotic as anything Whip had ever seen in his years of yondering.
Then Shannon turned and looked at Whip. The grief in her eyes hit him like a blow.
«Honey girl,» he said roughly, kneeling beside her bed. «Oh, God, I wish I were a different man!»
«I don’t.» Shannon touched Whip’s sun-bright hair with fingers that trembled. «I wouldn’t have loved a different man.»
«I’ll stay.»
For an instant joy blazed in Shannon, burning away the desolate shadows. Then Whip’s eyelashes lifted and she saw the metallic sheen of his eyes. He had the fierce, hunted look of a wolf brought to bay.
«It wouldn’t work.» Shannon smiled with trembling lips. «But thank you for offering.»
«I’ll make it work.»
«How?» she asked simply. «Will you stop playing your flute at dawn, calling to the sunrise you’ve never seen? Will you stop looking into the clouds at sunset with hunger in your eyes for a different land, a different language, a different life? Will you stop yearning for something that has no name, no description, simply your soul-deep belief that such a thing exists somewhere on the face of the earth, waiting for you to discover it?»
Whip’s breath caught. He hadn’t realized that Shannon understood him so well.
Better than he understood himself.
«I want you,» he said starkly.
«I know,» Shannon said. «But you’ll leave anyway. Desire isn’t enough to satisfy your yearning, yondering soul. Only love could do that.»
Abruptly Whip closed his eyes. «I’ll come back to you, honey girl.»
«Don’t,» Shannon whispered, stroking the fierce lines of Whip’s face. «The pain would be too much when you left again. For both of us.»
«Shannon — God, I’m so sorry —»
Whip’s voice broke. Tears glittered wildly in his eyes.
«It’s all right, yondering man,» she whispered. «It’s all right.»
She kissed Whip’s eyelids, his cheeks, the corners of his mouth.
«I never should have touched you,» Whip said, shivering beneath the delicate caresses.
«You never lied to me,» Shannon said, kissing him gently, repeatedly. «You warned me every step of the way that you were a yondering man. I didn’t understand at first. Then I didn’t believe. But I do now.»
«I should be horsewhipped for taking your innocence,» Whip said roughly. «No decent man would have.»
«I wanted you. You were kind and gentle when other men were savage and crude. I couldn’t have asked for a more decent man to teach me passion.»
«I didn’t want you to love me,» Whip whispered, for his throat was closed around emotions he refused to release. «I didn’t want to hurt you.»
Shannon smiled sadly. «I can hardly be the first widow who watched you leave with love in her eyes.»
«You’re the first one whose sorrow cut me until I bled and just kept on bleeding.»
There was pain in Whip’s tone, and accusation, and bafflement.
«You can no more change my loving you than I can change your not loving me,» Shannon said. «It’s just the way it is, like a river running down to the sea or smoke rising into the sky or the earth turning, carrying you away from me toward the sunrise you’ve never seen.»
Shannon’s name came from Whip’s mouth in a broken rush that was nearly a cry.
«Whip,» she whispered. «Let’s not waste any more breath on what can’t be changed. Love me in the only way you can while you’re here. Join your body with mine and take me to the sun. We have so little time left….»
Whip’s breath came in with a swift, ripping sound as Shannon’s hands slid down his body and cradled his very different, very aroused flesh.
«No,» he said thickly. «It’s too dangerous. Too many days have gone by.»
«Then at least let me bring you ease.»
With an anguished sound, Whip dragged Shannon’s hands back up his body.
«No,» he said curtly. «Don’t you understand?I don’t trust myself. I start out telling myself that we’ll just pet each other a bit, no more. Just mutual ease and comfort. Then your breath begins to break and you tremble and I feel the honey and fire between your legs and all I want to do is bury myself in you.»
Shannon’s breath caught.
«And that’s just what I do each time,» Whip said bitterly. «I lock myself inside you and the honey flows and the fire burns and nothing else is real. No sorrow, no pain, no thought, nothing but you and me and the kind of white-hot pleasure I’ll die remembering.»
«It’s the same for me,» Shannon said against Whip’s mouth. «Be a part of me, Whip. I love the way it feels when you’re deep inside me.»
«Haven’t you been listening? It’s not safe! I don’t trust myself not to make you pregnant!»
A shudder went through Shannon, hunger and grief combined.
A baby.
God, I want Whip’s child. But he doesn’t want to leave that much of himself behind.
Then Shannon remembered Cherokee’s odd gift.
«Cherokee gave me something so I wouldn’t conceive,» Shannon said huskily.
«What?» Whip asked, startled.
«Over there.» Shannon pointed. «On the shelf. The vial and the little bag.»
Whip gave her a strange look. Then he stood with swift grace and went to the shelf. Carefully he opened the bag and tipped it over his open hand. Tiny scraps of sponge rustled onto his palm. He took the stopper out of the vial and sniffed. His eyes widened as he smelled jumper and spearmint combined, plus a whiff of something sharp he couldn’t name.