I do, I do, I do (38 page)

Now she knew why Zoe cried into her pillow every night.

Her desire for solitude and privacy lasted as long as it took to sleep for a few hours and treat herself to another tub bath. Then the chaos of her thoughts against a backdrop of quiet began to scrape at her nerves. She kept thinking how much Clara and Zoe would enjoy a real tub and being warm and sitting down to a meal at a table. Sighing deeply, she set out her snowshoes and when Luc appeared, she asked him to fetch Clara and Zoe.

A swirl of falling snow followed them inside when they arrived, cold-cheeked and stamping snow off their feet.

"This is a palace!" Zoe marveled. "I can turn around without tripping over Clara's night case."

"Look at this stove!" Clara called from the kitchen. She lifted the lid off a bubbling pot and inhaled the steam. "Not bad, not too bad at all. You've made a good start. But this stew will be wonderful when I finish with it."

"I knew you'd say that." Laughing, Juliette took their coats and mittens and hung them on the hall tree. "The best is yet to come." Beckoning, she escorted them to the bedroom, made them cover their eyes, then said, "Look."

"A bathtub!" they cried in unison. And then, "I'm first!"

"There's plenty of time," Juliette said. "We have two whole days."

"Well, well." Bending, Clara picked an object off the floor and held it to the light glowing through the ice block window. "A shirt stud. And here's another. Looks like it was raining shirt studs in here." Her eyebrow arched suggestively.

The smile vanished from Juliette's lips. "I…"

"You don't have to explain anything." Zoe glared at Clara and then studied Juliette's hot cheeks. She gave Juliette a hard embrace before she walked out of the bedroom. "I'll put on some water to heat for the tub."

Clara fell backward on the bed and flung out her arms. She stared at the ceiling. "It isn't fair. The two of you are carrying on, and I haven't even been kissed!" She threw the shirt studs at the ice block. "Damn!"

Juliette sank to the edge of the bed and folded her hands in the lap of the everyday dress they had packed for her. She lowered her head. "Ben loves me, Clara. And I love him. He left here believing that we belong to each other." A tear rolled down her cheek and dropped on her clasped hands. "He believes we'll spend the rest of our lives together."

Finally Clara sighed and gently patted her back. "I'm sorry. Maybe it will work out somehow."

"No, it won't," Zoe said quietly, returning to the doorway. "Even if Tom and Ben could forgive us for not telling them about Jean Jacques, they won't be able to forgive us for not being the honorable women they thought we were. Oh, Juliette. I understand what you're feeling, and I'm so, so sorry."

Zoe dropped down beside her, and they reached blindly for each other, bursting into tears.

Chapter 18

Two dozen men climbed through the deep snow covering the hills flanking Linderman Lake and brought back a Yule log and enough firewood to burn until midnight on Christmas Eve. It was a grand celebration, with singing around the Yule flames beneath a clear frozen night lit by a million points of distant star-fire.

On Christmas day, Bear and his team won the tug-of-war. Tom placed second in the sled races. Clara's chocolate cake won the baking contest, and Zoe took second with her apple bread pudding.

"You've all won prizes," Juliette called as everyone lined up for the couple's sack race. "Now it's our turn."

"We're going to win this one," Ben promised, grinning.

"Sorry, the victory will be ours," Tom shouted. But he and Zoe were already tangled in the burlap sack and Zoe's skirts, and laughing so hard it was doubtful they would hear the starter's gun.

"No one can beat me and this little gal," Bear boomed, slipping his arm around Clara's waist. He smiled down at her. "I like being tied to you."

"I like it, too," Clara said, a bit distracted.

She had spotted Jake Horvath's acne-pitted face in the crowd of spectators. Malice burned in his stare. Two days ago Clara had passed Horvath talking to a group of men as she was taking a loaf of Christmas bread to Mrs. Eddington. She'd overheard him swearing that he would get even with Bear if it was the last thing he did. When Horvath saw her, he'd stepped away from the men to spit near Clara's hem. Shock had widened her eyes. Apparently she was now included in his threats.

The starter raised his pistol. "On your mark, get set—go!" The gun fired and two dozen couples, their legs tied inside burlap sacks, hopped forward while cheers erupted from the sidelines.

Clara's mind was still on Horvath, and she didn't pay attention as she should have. Within five steps, her heel slipped on an ice patch and she fell, pulling Bear down with her. Laughing, they lay face-to-face on the snow-packed ground.

Instead of immediately struggling up, Clara placed her hands on his chest and gazed past the ash and grease and into his eyes. "Bear Barrett, are you ever going to kiss me?" She knew the shouts and cheers of the spectators drowned her question for any ears but his.

He stared at her mouth, his arm still loosely around her waist. "Oh, yes. I have plans for you, little lady," he said in a gruff tone. "We need some privacy, and I've figured it out."

Privacy was the cause of his delay? Clara rolled her eyes and decided that men could drive a woman crazy. The extended hours of darkness offered privacy to anyone seeking it. Every evening, Tom and Zoe and Ben and Juliette faded into the dark to steal some kisses. Clara wanted some stolen kisses, too.

Bear must have read something of her thoughts on her expression. "No, ma'am," he said, lying next to her on the ground, the warm vapor of his breath bathing her face, "I'm not going to sneak a quick kiss out behind your tent. The first kiss should be special. When I plant one on you, woman, I want you to remember it all the rest of your born days." He grinned. "I want us both looking good and smelling good. I want you gussied up in that outfit you wore to the arm-wrestling tournament. When I grab you, I want to feel woman, not just a bundle of coats and scarves and sweaters and whatever else you're wearing to stay warm."

They gazed into each other's eyes, not thinking about their scandalous position, lying on the snow without three inches separating them. Couples sprawled on the ground, laughing, from here to the finish line. It was only when Ben and Juliette came hopping past shouting, "We won!" that Clara regained her senses and sat up.

"It would be nice to know your plan and where you intend to find the privacy you have in mind." Leaning forward, Clara pulled open the sack and untied the twine binding their legs.

He blinked. "Didn't I tell you?"

Exasperation overwhelmed her. She smacked him on the chest, knocking him back on the snow. "No."

He grinned up at the sky. "I've thought about this so much I figured I must have told you."

"Well, tell me now, then I'll decide if I like your plan."

He sat up. "I don't remember if I mentioned it, but I own a cabin at Lake Bennett. My plan is to invite you to a private rematch at the cabin."

"And I'm supposed to show up looking good and smelling good," she said with a smile, pulling her leg out of the sack.

"I'm looking forward to that part. Then we arm-wrestle. I win. And afterward we have dinner."

"You win?" She narrowed her eyes.

"I know where I can get a chicken. It'll cost seventy-five dollars, but what the hell. I'll pay someone to fry it so we don't have to cook. Dinner will be ready whenever we want it."

"I can fry it."

"If you invite me to dinner, then you can cook," he said, kicking the burlap off his leg. "When I invite you, I'll make the arrangements. We'll have your favorite German ale, by the way, in case you need additional enticement."

She laughed. "I was wavering. But I can't resist the ale.
Since this is a detailed plan, what happens after dinner?" She couldn't help thinking how Juliette's dinner evening had ended.

"We sit by the fire and talk about everything and nothing, then right before I escort you back to your tent, I take you in my arms—"

Clara stared into his brown-bear eyes and held her breath.

"—and I pull you so close you can hardly breathe."

She wasn't breathing now.

"I tell you that you're the prettiest little thing I ever saw—"

"Little." Clara fell back on the snow and smiled at the sky.

"And then I kiss you until your knees buckle."

"Oh, Lord. I do like this plan."

She liked it so well that later in the day she cornered Tom and demanded to know when he intended to depart for Lake Bennett.

"As I just explained to Bear," he said with a smile of amusement, "we'll leave tomorrow morning. I'll tell you what I told him. We travel at the pace of the slowest person in the party. And no, you can't go on ahead of everyone. I'm responsible for you, so you stay with the group."

Sighing with frustration, she went in search of Juliette and found her packing in preparation for tomorrow's departure.

"How are you feeling?" Clara asked, sitting on her cot and studying Juliette. Juliette was still pink-faced and excited from winning the sack race.

"I feel fine. Why?"

"Because it would mean a lot to me if you wouldn't lollygag on this next leg of the journey."

"I don't lollygag! I go as fast as I can."

"Well, go faster. I'm in a hurry to reach Lake Bennett."

"Why is that?" Juliette paused in folding clean laundry, and her eyebrows rose. "What's at Lake Bennett?"

Clara smiled. "That's none of your business."

"Clara Klaus!" Juliette stared at her and then laughed. "I suppose the next question is, what are you going to wear?"

"I guess I can admit that I've been invited to dinner and it's been requested that I wear my arm-wrestling ensemble."

"I suspect that's an excellent choice." Juliette sat down beside her. "Clara, are you very sure?" she asked in a low voice. "I've never been so miserable as I am since Ben and I… since we…" Her cheeks flamed.

"But you've never been as happy either."

Juliette tilted her head back. "You know, sometimes I wonder if the three of us aren't bad influences on each other. I wonder if we don't somehow give each other permission to do things we wouldn't dream of doing on our own."