LeClerc 01 - Autumn Ecstasy (14 page)

Bear fought for control as he felt the heat raging through his body. Knowing he had to stop before it was too late, he slowly ended the kiss, withdrawing first his tongue and then easing the pressure of his lips against hers. He slowly, reluctantly, raised his head, his passion-filled eyes burning into hers.

Linsey traced the three scars on his face, her fingers feather soft against the damaged skin. Bending slightly she placed light kisses along the length of each one. “Only flesh and bone. So badly hurt,” she murmured. Her hand returned to its place against his cheek.

Bear shivered at the intensity of the feelings flowing through him. He knew how monstrous his face was. He could not take her caress lightly; to him it was almost a declaration.

He pulled her hand from the back of his head and at the same time turned his face so that her palm covered his mouth. He worshipped her hand with his lips, lightly tracing the center with his tongue, before pulling both of them down to her lap.

He had to clear his throat several times before he could speak, and then his voice was deeply raspy. “I think we should stop this and try to get some sleep.”

Linsey felt bewildered. Why had he suddenly stopped kissing her? Had she been wrong to touch his cheek? She had not planned to do it, but it had felt so good, so natural, and she wanted him to know that she no longer feared his scars.

Bear read the questions in her gaze and lightly traced the slope of her cheek. “That is only the beginning, sweet angel.”

“The beginning of what?”

His gaze roamed the molding of her face, and he softly kissed the end of her up-turned nose before picking her up off his lap and setting her on her feet. “The beginning of something you are not yet ready for.” He turned her toward the table and gave her a little push.

“I hate it when people talk in riddles,” Linsey mumbled childishly as she climbed back up on the table.

Bear’s hands clenched until the knuckles showed white as he fought the urge to take her back into his arms and show her exactly what he meant. But if he once loved her, made her his, he’d never take her back to the city. And he had no doubt that Linsey did not belong in his wilderness. Fourteen years of his mother’s gentle teachings forced him to relax and wait for sleep.

It would be a long winter, with many days of them snowed in together. The cabin was tiny even for One person. How long could he resist her … and himself?

Linsey sat at the table, her chin in her hand, her elbow against the rough wood surface. She watched intently as Bear shaved the week’s growth of hair from his face. Using the now razor sharp knife, he quickly dispensed with the smooth side of his face and worked slowly on the time-consuming scarred side. The hair had grown quite long in only a week and had begun to cover the scars.

“Why do you bother to shave?” Linsey was finally forced to ask, after he had cut himself for the third time. “It takes forever, and you appear to be adding more scars.”

“It doesn’t take nearly as long if I do it every day.” He contorted his face, looked into the small mirror and resumed shaving.

“A beard would cover the worst of the scars,” she commented innocently.

Bear stopped, lowered the knife and turned to her. “Even covered with hair, they would still be there, little one. I will not hide something that is a part of me.
Nee lah e nee nee Idh,
I am that I am.”

“It’s really not that bad.”

He raised a dark eyebrow in her direction. “It was enough to scare you witless the first time you saw it.”

“At that point anything would have scared me witless! In fact, at that point I was witless.” She stood and walked over to him. Raising a hand, Linsey lightly touched the scar. “I think your imagination has made it more than it is. If you scare children, it’s probably more because of your size than your face.” She looked up impishly, her hand resting on his cheek.

Bear gritted hi6 teeth as her innocent touch sent far from innocent thoughts racing through his mind. His voice was far harsher than he intended as he fought to control the urge to crush her in his arms.

“If you will move your hand, I can finish this task sometime today.”

Linsey lowered her hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t — “

“I know, sweet.” He turned back to the mirror and grimaced at the traces of blood from the nicks he had inflicted on himself. “Why don’t you open the package Wolf brought while I finish this?”

Linsey picked up the package from the floor and set it on the table. Using the knife Bear had given her, she worked open the knotted thong tying it closed. Inside was a heavy coat similar to Bear’s only much smaller. The fur side was out, the longish hair hanging thick and sleek. Linsey slipped it on, delighted by its warmth. She swirled around in circles until she was dizzy, laughing when she had to grab the table to steady herself.

“Put on the leggings, and we will see what the outside world has to offer.”

Linsey reluctantly removed the coat and reached for the bulky pieces of fur. She tried unsuccessfully to wrap them around her legs, and as she began to lace them they slid down her slender leg.

Wiping the traces of lather from his face, Bear grinned when he heard the muttered Gaelic. Taking pity on her, and himself, he knelt on the dirt floor at her feet and lifted the shoe-encased foot onto his bent leg. He tried to ignore the warm flesh beneath his hands as he quickly tightened the thong.

“Sit still or I’ll never get these things laced.” Bear grinned as Linsey wiggled like a small child, impatient with the stubborn pieces of fur, wanting only to be outside.

With a happy sigh, Linsey stood when he had finished, grabbed the hooded, fur coat and headed for the door. Bear’s grin widened at the absurdity of her clothing and her innocent acceptance of it; the leather shoes combined with the dress, coat and leggings of the Shawnee. Her long hair, coiled like a rope and knotted through itself, peeked from beneath the hood.

Linsey opened the door, breathing deeply of the crisp, clean air. Only when she had taken a few steps outside did she remember the dangers that waited for someone who was not familiar with the terrain. She turned pleading eyes toward Bear, silently asking him to come out with her.

Grabbing his coat, Bear accepted the silent invitation. He, too, was unaccustomed to the enforced inactivity and needed to feel the sun against his face.

“You lead; I’ll follow,” Linsey stated as he walked toward her.

“What if I lead you off a cliff?”

“Since you’ll fall first, I’ll just have to be sure to land on top of you!”

Bear chuckled and headed down the path. He had no destination in mind, just enjoying the freedom from the cabin.

Linsey walked behind Bear, snuggled deeply into the coat. The only sound was the crisp crunch of the snow beneath their feet and the occasional plop of snow dropping from the limbs above them.

The giant trees seemed to reach for the deep blue sky. The sun sparkled on the snow like untold numbers of fabulous jewels, so bright it hurt their eyes. Linsey stopped to look at an ice-encased bush, its remaining leaves covered in a layer of sparkling crystals.

When Bear no longer heard her accompanying footsteps, he turned and watched as she stared in fascination. One hand appeared from the sleeve of the enveloping coat to trace the ice formation that hung from the bush. Her childish enthusiasm touched a deeply buried longing in him, and he smiled gently as he watched.

Linsey turned and answered his smile with an impish one of her own. Just as she started to move toward him, a ball of snow from the trees above fell and landed in her face. Linsey spit and sputtered with surprise and yelped as some of the icy wetness found its way down her neck and under the fur.

Bear chuckled as he watched her trying to wipe the snow away. “When there is snow on the trees above, it is better not to look up too often.”

“Now you tell me!” Linsey started walking toward him as she wiped the snow away.

“I would have told you sooner if you had asked.”

A grin split his face as he turned and continued down the trail. With the fur once again in position tightly around her neck, Linsey watched the broad back in front of her. Enjoying the fresh air on his head, Bear had not pulled the hood of his coat in place, and she contemplated her actions only briefly before bending and grabbing a handful of snow. She formed it into a good-size ball and lobbed it toward his unprotected head, bending for another glob of snow as the first one left her hand.

The snowball hit the back of his head with a satisfying plop, and as he turned to face his attacker, another one, also intended for the back of his head, hit him squarely in the face.

“I … I didn’t think you’d turn so quickly,” Linsey said in way of an apology as she took a few steps backward. “I meant it to hit your head, not your face.” Bear wiped the snow away, fighting not to let his amusement show. The look on her face was so horrified he wanted to throw his head back and roar with laughter. But not yet. …

“So you want to play, eh, my snow bunny?” He bent and grabbed a handful of snow. Before she could turn, a well-aimed snowball hit her face.

“No fair!” Linsey yelled as she wiped her face a second time. “It was an accident!”

“An accident that you threw a snowball?” he asked as he made another one. “Or an accident that your aim was better than you thought it would be?”

Linsey turned in time to prevent his next missile from landing in her face. Instead it hit the side of her head, falling harmlessly against the heavy fur.

“You realize you just declared war, don’t you?” She bent, and grabbed a handful of snow. She threw carefully, but it landed several feet short of its destination.

The fight quickly escalated into a full-blown war. Few of Linsey’s poorly constructed missiles found their way to her opponent, while few of Bear’s missed. He was careful that he didn’t pack the snow too tightly, wanting them to land and splinter instead of hurting. It had been years since he’d had a snowball fight. Not since that long-ago time when he had been a child for such a few short years.

“I yield!” Linsey yelled as another glob of snow dripped down her neck. The only exposed part of her body was her face, and each of his snowballs had landed on or near it, most of the snow finding its way inside her coat.

“Surrender?” Bear threw again and chuckled at her squeal.

“Never!” A quickly thrown ball fell short. “I surrender to no man!”

“Then to the death!” Bear pelted her with several more snowballs.

“I yield! I yield!” Laughing, Linsey turned and started running back down the trail toward the cabin.

A few steps and Bear caught up with her. Linsey’s leather shoes slipped on the slick ground, and when he tried to prevent her fall, they both tumbled into the snow.

Using a small portion of his weight, Bear carefully held her down, but the contest was done. His dark eyes were lost in the picture of her. Her cheeks were rosy, the tip of her nose red. Her eyes sparkled with the brilliance no emerald could ever claim, and her hair had come unbound, lying flame bright against the white backdrop.

She giggled helplessly, her breath coming in short spurts and gasps. When her eyes met his, the giggles abruptly ceased, but the breath came no easier to her lungs.

The harsh light of day showed her more clearly than ever the scars that marred the perfection of his face. Freeing a hand from beneath his chest, she traced the hardened ridges from their beginning in his hair to the edge of his jaw. She lightly touched each scar and ran her fingers across them, finding the height of the ridges and the depth of the valleys between.

How lucky he had been not to have lost an eye, she thought, lightly touching the edge of his brow. She traced a line down to the edge of his mouth, her finger following the outline of his lips.

Bear lay perfectly still above her, supporting his weight so that he did not crush her. His agitation showed only in the depth of his breathing. He closed his eyes so that he did not have to see the expression in hers. Be it pity, revulsion, disgust, they were not the emotions he wanted from her.

Linsey almost moaned at the thought of the pain he had endured. How had he survived such damage? She knew that the scars were on his body as well as his face. Were there also hidden scars? Scars of hatred because of the destruction of something once so perfect?

Her gaze moved to the other side of his face. Only a few hours earlier, when she had watched with avid curiosity as he shaved, she had wanted to turn her eyes away from the contortions he had made as he worked on the damaged side of his face. She had not wanted him to see the fear in her eyes — fear that he would seriously cut himself and cause more pain. The wholly masculine activity had fascinated her even as she feared for him.

She compared the two sides of his face. The finely arched brows were the same as were the long lashes that lay against his cheeks. As if dividing good from evil, his high-bridged, slightly off-center nose separated the two sides. She remembered the softness of his lips against hers as she stared at his firm, well-shaped mouth.

When she remained still and did not speak, Bear knew he had to open his eyes, force himself to look at her. His eyes, so dark and troubled, met hers and found an emotion as unexpected as it was surprising. Tenderness shined from her as a gentle smile rested on her lips.