White Nights (10 page)

Wonder suffused her and for just a moment, she savored it. James found her attractive. Birk had always thought her ugly when she was with child, and he’d made sure she knew it. She’d long suspected he resented the intrusion of his children in her body. In hindsight, it explained why his beatings had always grown worse the further her pregnancy advanced.

But there was no mistaking the awe and desire in James’s voice or in his tender gaze. Though even if she said yes to all he offered, it couldn’t bring back the dreams she’d lost. Nothing could erase the past. The naive young girl with romance in her eyes was no more. She’d grown up, forced to shed her naive shell under the harsh glare of reality. She was a woman now, a woman with children who depended on her.

What she’d told James just minutes before took on new meaning and importance. She had to do this for herself, her own growth as an emerging woman. She knew full well that life didn’t hand out guarantees. What if she allowed James to do as he wanted and take care of her? What if something happened to him in Oregon? She’d be in the same situation—alone, scared and unprepared.

James, for all his outward kindness and sincerity, would take over her life, the way he had taken over the oxen, or handled Ian on his own without consulting her, and step in to tell her children what to do. It didn’t matter that his actions had been prompted by concern or that he’d even been right in how he’d handled both her and her kids. She’d never learn to stand on her own two feet with James at her side. He’d raised his siblings, was used to being in charge. It wasn’t a habit he would break.

“Eirica?”

“Yes?” Warily, she waited.

James slid his hat off and worried the brim of his hat between nervous fingers. “I said earlier I wouldn’t apologize for kissing you. I was wrong. I overstepped my bounds. You weren’t ready, the time wasn’t right and I don’t blame you for being scared of me. For that I apologize.”

His admission took her by complete surprise. Seeing his unease made Eirica reach out and touch his arm. Heat crept up her cheeks as he watched and waited for her to gather the courage to speak. She tipped her head to one side. “Your—kiss—didn’t scare me. It just took me by surprise.” She leaned forward, searching his gaze. The hurt she saw that she’d placed there with her honesty saddened her. Bringing him pain was the last thing she wanted. She truly valued his friendship. “Why—why did you kiss me? You were angry.”

He lifted one hand to the side of her face and cupped her cheek. “No,” he said faintly. “Scared.”

That was the last answer she’d expected from James. Nothing seemed to scare him. “You kissed me because you were scared?”

“Yeah. No. Hell, I kissed you because I wanted to. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the night I saw you standing in the moonlight at Fort Kearny, when everyone had left the camp and you and I were there alone.”

Eirica’s jaw dropped. This was not what she’d expected. Fort Kearny seemed a lifetime ago. She wanted to ask him how, why? But she didn’t know what to say or even think. Finally, she blurted, “But I was married.”

Derisive laughter came from James. “Hell of a spot to be in, right? I finally found the woman I wanted to call wife, raise a family with, and she’s already married.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I fell in love with you, I wanted you—but you were off limits. I could have accepted that, except when I saw how your husband treated you. Then, my feelings became a living nightmare because you deserved better.”

Eirica’s eyes widened with shock, then narrowed with growing anger. If he was telling the truth about his feelings, why hadn’t he done anything to help her, to protect her from her husband? His actions when Birk had been alive weren’t those of a man in love.

She pulled her hand from his arm and stepped back. He was feeding her a bunch of lines after all, and she’d fallen for it. “I don’t believe you. If you’d cared, you’d have done something to help me or my children. No one did anything, except your sister.” Bitterness edged her voice.

James stared at his hat then slapped it against his thigh. “That’s not true. I did what I could.” He fought the memories of Birk’s maltreatment of Eirica and her children and his own helplessness to prevent it. Guilt still ate at him. He’d wanted to do something, but Birk had had the law on his side.

“I went to Wolf, along with Jordan and Lars. Wolf agreed to tell Birk to lay off you and the children.” James paused. “I’d have confronted him myself, but I was afraid if Birk knew how I felt about you, he’d take it out on you or maybe even leave the wagon train. At least with you there, I could watch over you as much as possible.”

He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I had to wait until Birk violated Wolf’s orders, hoping that if he were thrown out of the wagon train, you’d decide to leave him and stay—which you did. I was ready to step in and offer my protection and help.”

Eirica closed her eyes, hearing Birk’s boasts that no one could tell him what he could or couldn’t do with what belonged to him. “You thought it would be that easy? That he’d listen?” Her gaze trapped his. “It made no difference who gave the order. Birk did as he pleased. Wolf’s interference made him more determined to exert his dominance. He just made sure he left bruises—his marks of ownership, he always told me—where no one could see them.” Shame made her turn her head. More than a month later, she still had marks on her body that hadn’t fully healed.

James ran a hand through his hair. “Dammit, Eirica, I’m sorry I didn’t do more. No one blames me more than I blame myself. I even tried drugging—”

His voice faltered. Eirica shot him a startled glance. “You what?”

He stared at his boots, then met her gaze boldly. “At Fort Kearny I drugged Birk’s drink. I knew he’d get drunk and beat on you, so I added a few drops of laudanum to a flask of whiskey and had it delivered to him.” He winced, looked guilty.

“You did that for me?” She remembered how Birk had slept most of the day following that night and how relieved she’d been.

“Yeah, and I guess I should tell you, Jessie drugged him that night as well. Wolf found out and laid into both of us.”

Her eyes widened. “Both of you drugged him?”

“Neither of us knew the other had done so. But we each had the same idea—to protect you.” James twisted his hat in his hands, but he stood tall and proud, not the least bit repentant.

Searching his gaze, Eirica could no longer ignore the emotion she’d seen before and saw now. There was no doubting his feelings for her. A small bubble of happiness formed inside her and pushed past her misgivings.

James had cared enough to drug Birk, speak to Wolf on her behalf and watch over her. Knowing he’d at least tried to help left a warm, wonderful glow in her heart, like holding her newborn babes for the first time. She also admitted he was correct in believing that Birk would have taken his family and left the wagon train had he felt threatened by James or believed any man had designs on her. Shyly, she stepped close to him. “Thank you for caring, James. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

He opened his arms. He could so easily have pulled her into his embrace, but he didn’t. He waited, his gaze soft, inviting her to take that one small step that would bring them together.

She was tempted. She wanted him to hold her, needed to know what it felt like to be loved, cherished. She needed to know she wasn’t alone, that she could lean on James, but most of all, she yearned for the kiss that his eyes promised. Just this once, she told herself. This one time, she’d blame her weakness on the night, on the shimmering carpet of stars overhead and the soft cadence of insects lending their chirps to form a backdrop of soothing sound. Before the harsh light of the new day reminded her of all her reasons for guarding her heart, she had to know what it felt like to be held—and kissed—by James, the knight of her dreams, the one person who didn’t frighten her.

She took that one small step, lifted her hands to his shoulder and allowed him to draw her close, his arms encircling her. One hand slid up her spine and cupped the back of her neck. She held her breath, waiting for the return of the suffocating fear of being trapped by strong male arms. To her surprise and pleasure, she felt no panic with James. Instead, strange urges flowed through her, frightening her as much as those same feelings made her lean closer to the man holding her so tenderly.

His breath, warm against her cheek, teased her. “Fate brought us together, Eirica. We were meant to be,” he whispered, his lips moving closer.

His words wove ribbons of hope around her. She stared at his mouth, wanting so badly to feel his lips against hers again even as that scared part of her heart warned this was wrong. For her. For him. She couldn’t give him what he wanted.

But he can give you what you want, what you need, what you‘ve never had.

James lowered his head, his eyes holding hers, sucking her into their desire-laden depths. His mouth enticed hers, his lips soft, full, tender. Hers parted in response.

“You can say no, Eirica. I would never force you.”

Eirica’s heart pounded, blood raced through her and a strange heaviness settled between her legs, the blood collecting there, pulsing with each beat of her heart. She fought her panic—terror born of her fear of a man’s passion and superior strength. Underlying that same fear came another. Would James find her lacking?

Birk had never been one for much kissing, which she hadn’t minded. The few times he’d kissed her had been totally repulsive, a smashing of his mouth against hers, leaving her lips swollen, bruised and bleeding. She shuddered inwardly, fighting the memories of Birk’s sweating, grunting body on top of her as he entered her forcefully, uncaring of the pain he caused, eager only to find his own quick satisfaction.

She wasn’t sure she could ever let a man touch her again, yet the tenderness with which James had kissed her earlier, held her now, left her yearning to experience more. Realizing it was up to her, that all she had to do was say no gave her the courage to lift her head shyly to James. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

James’s lips twitched, his mouth lowering until he was but a mere breath from hers. “Sure you can, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms more firmly around her, still loosely enough so she wouldn’t feel trapped or held against her will. “Close your eyes. Don’t think, just feel.”

Taking that leap of faith, Eirica put her trust in James and waited with bated breath. It seemed like a long time before James touched his mouth to hers. Slowly. Softly. Tenderly. His lips claimed hers without pressure. Without pain. His lips moved over hers. Nibbling, tasting, showing her a side to lovemaking she’d never experienced, but had dreamed about. Warmth and incredible sensations rushed through her, leaving her weak-kneed and breathless.

The kiss went on, a sweet mating of mouths. She twisted her body around so she could lean into him, get closer than what her stomach would allow. He shifted as well, supporting her as they stood close. Eirica marveled how broad-chested he was, how hard against the softness of her swollen stomach. Her nipples tingled when he moved ever so slightly. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as his mouth continued to move over hers with gentle persuasion. At any time, she could have pulled back, but the sheer sweetness of his kiss enthralled her.

Her own lips parted and without even realizing it, she kissed him back, moved with him, tasted him as he did her. His fingers feathered across the sides of her face, stroking and touching. Her arms slid around his neck, holding him closer. She moaned—or was it him? She didn’t know, didn’t care.

Then, with one last stroke of his tongue, James lifted his head.

Eirica’s eyes fluttered open when his fingertips drifted over her lips, across her cheeks and slid into her hair. She stared at him, trembling with need, lost in a sea of unfamiliar emotions. She’d never imagined a kiss could be this tender or that it could leave her feeling shaky, weak and in such need of another kiss that she felt as though she’d die without it. Here, wrapped securely in James’s arms, she felt alive and desirable.

James drew an unsteady breath. Though he smiled, Eirica could tell the kiss had shaken him as well. Her fingers continued to thread through the silky, wavy hair at his nape. She forgot about all the reasons why she shouldn’t be there as she rested her cheek against his chest, felt his every shuddering breath, heard the thudding of his heart. Sheltered in the secure circle of his arms, she didn’t even think about his size, how strong his arms were, how small and fragile she felt against him.

Nothing mattered except the urge building inside her to pull his head down so she could sample another of his incredibly tender kisses. He tilted her chin so he could gaze down into her eyes, and he stroked her hair. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

His words broke through the unfamiliar fog of desire. She backed away, stared at him, seeing a wonderful, tender, gentle man unafraid to bare his soul to her.

What had she done? She covered her mouth to stifle her cry of pain.

He was wrong, so very wrong. That kiss they’d shared had been a cruel joke, for she’d glimpsed heaven in his eyes, tasted ambrosia on his lips and felt the first burst of sweet desire pulse through her blood. Combined, they left her aching for more. But worse, her awakened heart yearned for the romance and love he offered even as her mind slammed the door shut to protect her heart from further heartbreak.

But it was too late. She feared she’d already lost a part of her heart to the man who’d renewed her dreams of love and happiness. Backing away, she picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she dared in the inky darkness toward the safety of her tent and the bleakness of her future.

James followed Eirica, saw that she made it safely to her tent, then returned to the bedroll beneath his wagon, his mind seeking the wisdom of his actions like a dog chasing its tail. Round and round he went. Had he moved too fast? Had he scared Eirica off for good now? Had he ruined his chance with her?

But he always came back to how right it’d felt. Earlier, he’d feared his timing was off, but not tonight. She’d come to him, willingly, and Lord almighty, she’d responded to his kisses and touch with a passion and need that pushed this own to the breaking point. It had taken everything he possessed not to do more than kiss her and touch her gently.

And it made it so hard to back off and let her return to her tent. They’d be so damn good together, but those same passions, feelings, frightened Eirica. Which began the round of endless worry anew. Was he back where he’d started? Would Eirica rebuild her barriers? Could he find a way to convince her that they were meant to be? He rubbed his face with both hands then combed his fingers through his hair, tired and disheartened at the thought.

Without undressing, he crawled between the worn quilts his mother had made before her untimely death and cradled his head in his hands. Though the quilts had seen better days, should be relegated to the scrap bin, he always felt comforted surrounded by her love. She’d have loved Eirica, he thought. She’d have approved of his choice for a wife.

Staring up at the bottom of the wagon, his gaze absently picked out the shadowy farming implements he’d loaded and tied there for a new start in Oregon, James tried to regain his focus. From his pocket, he pulled out a well-worn rock and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, drawing comfort from the soothing action and the stone’s polished surface between his fingers. His mind wandered.

He’d left behind all the material things he’d held dear: the farm, furniture crafted by his father, a house lovingly decorated by his mother, and memories. So many memories were scattered throughout that small house, so much love, joy and laughter.

The prospect of starting over, building his own home, creating new memories, scared him and took on new meaning now that he knew what his parents had felt when they’d come to Westport at a time when it was still considered the wilds of the west.

Like them, he was laying the foundation not only for himself and his family, but hopefully, generations of Joneses would draw their first breath in that new home, in a new land. He’d pulled up his roots, taken what he could of his parents’ belongings, hoarded his memories, and would soon start a new chapter to add to what his parents had written. New traditions, new joys and new struggles to overcome.

He thought of Eirica, his dream of standing on rich fertile soil, staking out their new home, deciding together where the kitchen would go, where they would sleep, where to put the children’s rooms. He wanted a big house, with lots of space. With Eirica at his side, he’d have a house full of little girls with red hair like their mother. They’d have sons, too, strong like his own brothers and just as adventurous and curious about life as little Ian.

Closing his eyes, he held the image to his heart. Someday, he comforted himself, refusing to believe otherwise. If Eirica couldn’t bring herself to love and trust him, his future stretched out bleak, empty and lonely. He rolled onto his side, clutching the warm stone in his palm. His thumb rubbed a worn groove down the center of one side.

While he understood Eirica’s need to be independent, her fear of men and of being controlled, he also knew just how tough life would be without a husband to take care of her and her children. She needed him, she just didn’t know how badly. Again, he damned Birk for treating her as he had. There wasn’t a person in this wagon party who hadn’t known what went on in that marriage. Hell, they’d all heard Birk forcing himself on her night after at night, staking his claim, proving she belonged to him.

James tensed, fighting the guilt and fury that came from knowing there hadn’t been a single damn thing he could do about it. He’d finally stopped coming into camp at night. But that hadn’t stopped him from laying awake, his imagination running wild. Nights had become his own personal hell, sleeping beneath the same stars at the same time that the woman he loved was being brutalized by her own husband. What Birk had done with Eirica wasn’t making love. Her bruises and the haunting shadows in her eyes had been proof of Birk’s violence and her own helplessness, which matched James’s own, ate at him.

It didn’t surprise James that Eirica vowed never to be involved with another man. But there had to be some way he could prove to her that he wasn’t like Birk. There had to be some way to win her trust. Restless, he flipped over onto his back again. He’d come close to gaining her trust tonight. There’d been longing in her eyes when he’d offered her a stroll in the starlight. She’d responded to his touch with shyness, but with a need that matched his.

He’d already decided to court her, woo her with gifts to prove his love was sincere and his intentions honorable, but he sensed those alone wouldn’t win her heart or her trust. Somehow, he had to show her what real love was like between a man and wife. Like kissing. It’d been obvious to him that kissing was something new to her. He’d sensed wonder and awe in her reaction, and he’d seen the stars in her eyes.

She’d enjoyed his kiss and his touch had filled her with a wonder she hadn’t been able to hide. It made sense. From what he knew of Birk, it was a good guess she’d never been shown the gentle, tender wonders of love and romance.

He snuggled down between his covers, holding close to his heart Eirica’s sugar-sweet response. She had no idea how it could be between them, didn’t understand that her body knew and yearned for what he could give her. But none of this dealt with her belief that she had to be independent, had to go it alone to maintain the control and security she sought.

Suddenly he realized that overcoming her fears of him, of his touch, wasn’t the problem. He had to prove that if she married him, she wasn’t giving up control or her independence. How could he convince her of that? She was right. The law would give him control, and right now, she didn’t trust him not to take advantage of it as Birk had done. He thought of her accusation—one she’d made twice today—of how he barged into her affairs. But what was he supposed to do: let her struggle, fail?

He thought of Jessie, how when she’d been younger, he’d had to force himself to allow her to learn on her own, to make mistakes and to deal with the consequences. But that was different. It was in a controlled environment. Out here, a mistake—like today’s—could cost lives. Asking him to let her put herself or her children at risk was out of the question, which brought him back at the beginning. What to do?

Faced with a bigger problem than he’d suspected, he scooted over to one of the wagon wheels and leaned against it, his body scrunched down so he wouldn’t hit his head on the wagon bottom. Pulling his knees up, his boots resting on the spokes of the wheel across from him, he slid the stone he’d been caressing back into the pocket of his denim pants.

“Trust yourself. Believe in yourself.”

The words came from nowhere, a voice from his distant past that gave him courage and hope. Unable to sleep, knowing it would be a while before he could hope to find slumber, he grabbed the guitar resting against the side of the wagon and cradled it across his lap. He strummed a chord, then another, and another, tuning as he went until a low soothing melody drifted from beneath his wagon.

Unknown to him, several yards away, Eirica lay in her tent, listening. By the time the last note faded, she’d fallen asleep with a smile on her face, her fingers touching her lips.

Burning embers from another fire several miles away sent long, grotesque shadows dancing into the night, across the earth and over a bulky shadow creeping stealthily across the dark land. At any sound—the cough of a man, the soft whisper of a woman soothing a child—the figure dropped to the ground, silent and still.

Only when total silence prevailed once again did he rise from his prone position. Each forward step was made cautiously, his movements slow as he passed one camp after another. Passing a large white tent, Birk Macauley froze at the sound of a childish giggle. His lips curled with hatred and he glared at the unseen family who inadvertently reminded him that he’d lost his. Thanks to that damn meddling White Wolf.

“God-damned nosy breed,” he muttered. “It’s none of his business how I deal with what belongs to me. Gave her airs, made her think she could leave me. Nobody takes what’s mine.” Birk stopped to control his breathing, knowing that to give in to the hatred raging through his body could be dangerous. His wandering alone in the dark of the night would rouse suspicion; questions would be asked.

But controlling his hatred of White Wolf wasn’t easy. The bastard had interfered one too many times in Birk’s affairs, starting with the day they’d left Westport. Eirica had allowed Wolf to nose around in their wagon, and the wagon master had discovered Birk’s stash of whiskey—more than the allotted amount. The bastard had ordered the excess taken back to town and traded for food. If that hadn’t been bad enough, Wolf had later had the nerve to order him to lay off hitting his woman and children.

Birk’s lips twisted with remembered fury and resentment. “A man has a right to treat his family as he sees fit.” His fists clenched and unclenched as he dealt with the fact that he no longer had his family. Just wait until he had the bitch back. She’d never leave him again. His loins tightened with need. Just imagining her fear, her submission to whatever punishment he decided to deal her, hardened him to the point of pain.

Sweat popped out on his face and his hand went to his groin as his vision glazed over. But instead of easing his erection, allowing his body to spill its seed, he fought the pulsing need. Later. When he was somewhere by himself where he could vent his rage without fear of being heard. Then he’d allow himself to enjoy the images filling his mind, luring his lust. Right now, he needed to concentrate on matters at hand: surviving, finding food and, if he were lucky, drink. What he wouldn’t give for a flask of whiskey. Hell, he’d even take snake-head whiskey. Cheap rotgut drink was better than none.

Finally, Birk reached his objective for the night—a lone wagon and single tent set apart from the others, far enough from the trail that it was no longer crowded with tents pitched practically on top of one another. He had no idea who these people were and didn’t care. They were alone, not traveling with a larger group and therefore, an easy mark. He glanced around cautiously. Their fire had burned down, and from the tent came the reassuring sound of soft snores.

Hungry as he hadn’t eaten all day, Birk approached the back of the wagon and pulled from his waistband a small empty canvas sack he’d lifted from another unsuspecting traveler. Luck ran with him. Remnants of the evening meal lay where any beast, two-footed or four, could help themselves. He slid slabs of cold bacon and bannocks into his sack. His gaze shifted side to side as he added the knife that had been used to slice the soft chewy bread, even though he had two other knives hidden in his boots. One more wouldn’t hurt.

Moving silently, he reached into the shadowy interior of the wagon and grabbed another sack sitting within arm’s reach. Inside, he found pilot bread and added the hard tack to his cache of stolen food. That was all he could find without the aid of a light to see better. Scowling, he turned, ready to move on. What he had now would see him through for a few days. The sudden loud cocking of a gun turned his blood cold.

“Stop, ya damn thief. I’ll teach ya to steal from me.”

Birk turned cautiously and faced an elderly man wearing a white nightshirt that fell to just below his knees. In his hands, he held a shotgun leveled at Birk’s chest.

“Drop the sack,” the man ordered, moving closer.

Birk licked his lips, his gaze shifting, searching for escape. He bent down slowly and set the sack in front of him.

“Back away, you thieving scum.”

Birk took a step back, his foot scraping against a cast-iron frying pan. When the old man bent down to pick up the sack, Birk snatched up the pan and jumped forward, swinging his weapon hard. He knocked the rifle from the man’s hands then backhanded the pan across the side of the man’s head.

The emigrant toppled to the ground. A shrill scream rent the air as the man’s wife emerged from the tent. Her cries slashed the quiet of the night. Birk grabbed his sack of pilfered food and the man’s shotgun, then ran away from the trail toward a gully he’d found earlier. If he could just make it, he’d be safe.

Over the next nine days, Eirica and the other emigrants traveled steadily, their wagons creaking over nearly ninety miles of sagebrush-covered plains. They passed Devil’s Gate, and Split Rock. The second resembled Devil’s Gate, except its split was at the top of a ridge. With those wondrous sights behind them, another treat awaited: Ice Slough, a boggy marsh where ice abounded. All the emigrants had to do was reach into the muck to pull out a chunk of ice—in July!

Hot and tired, the travelers enjoyed cold drinks for as long as they could make the ice last. Finally, the Sweetwater River brought them to their objective, the most important landmark of their trip: South Pass. Not only did it bring them to the frontier of Oregon country, the pass was the key to the success of the westward journey.

Most emigrants had imagined a high ridge of mountain with some narrow defile and dramatic crest as they’d experienced with other passes. Few had expected the nearly imperceptible climb through a broad, grassy valley astride the continental divide. Most might not have even known they’d reached the summit but for the noticeable cooling of the atmosphere and the myriad white-capped lofty peaks of the Wind River Range, looming large some twenty miles away.

Eirica, along with Jessie, Coralie and Anne, stopped to survey the nondescript pass. “Never thought it would look like this,” Eirica said, staring around her where the earth seemed to meet a sky gone dark and menacing. She ran her hands over the swell of her child then massaged her lower back. Though eager to rest and look around, the last place she wanted to be was standing on top of the pass if a storm broke. The last couple of days had been hot and muggy with torrents of rain and thundershowers in the afternoons and early evenings.