LeClerc 01 - Autumn Ecstasy Read online

  “Forgive me, I’m so sorry,” she whispered to the unconscious man. “I’ve been so selfish.”

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she lifted her free hand and hesitantly traced the outline of his firm lips, delighted that the scars did not touch their perfection. The heat radiated against her skin, and her guilt soared. How could she have ignored this side of his face? He had shown nothing but kindness and thoughtfulness to her, even going out this morning to get the dress when he already showed signs of being sick.

  “Konah?” Bear whispered through dry, cracked lips. “Konah M’tuk o hee?” He turned his cheek into the coolness of her hand.

  “Bear?” Linsey called gently. “I don’t understand you. Please, speak English.”

  “Snow?”

  Her brow furled in puzzlement. “The blizzard has stopped, but there’s several feet of snow on the ground.”

  “My Snow,” he sighed, trying to wet his lips with his tongue. “Water, Snow —” A heaving cough racked painfully through his body.

  Still confused by his reference to snow, Linsey stood, pulled her hand free and filled a cup with water. She lifted his head with one hand and held the cup to his mouth.

  The water felt cool in his mouth, and his heated body cried for the moisture. Still held by the delirium, Bear tried to swallow and choked, knocking the cup from her hand and spilling the water over his chest. He began to shake violently as the icy liquid touched his skin.

  Linsey backed away, growing terrified as the choking grew worse. When she began to think he’d never breathe again, he stopped coughing, falling helplessly back onto the bed.

  She saw the stain darkening the buckskin shirt and knew she would have to get it off of him. He was already so sick. He could not be allowed to stay in the wet shirt.

  “Bear, you have to help me,” she explained as her shaking hands unlaced the thong that closed the front of the shirt.

  She tried pulling the shirt up, but his weight held it firmly in place. “Bear, sit up!” she ordered in a gruff voice that she hoped would penetrate his daze.

  “Snow?”

  “Sit up!” If he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, cooperate, there was no way she could do it by herself short of cutting it from him.

  “Grouchy Snow,” he whispered in a teasing voice. “Always in a hurry to get my clothes off!”

  “So Snow is a woman,” Linsey muttered as she pulled and tugged, hoping to get him upright. “I sure don’t know why she’d be in a hurry to undress you.”

  After she got him sitting up, his fumblings to help her were more of a hindrance. Finally, in spite of his aid, Linsey managed to awkwardly pull the shirt over his head.

  “Konah, my wife,” he sighed, wrapping a massive arm around Linsey’s waist and resting his head against her breasts.

  “Wife?” Linsey’s movements stopped abruptly. “Snow is your wife?”

  He nuzzled against her breasts, his hand dropping down her back to caress rounded slopes. Linsey tried to push his head away from her breasts with one hand and stop his gentle touches with the other.

  “How many hands do you have, anyway?” she questioned when she was unsuccessful in her attempt to catch his wandering hand.

  “So long since we’ve loved,” he mumbled, the delirium teasing his mind with long-ago memories. His hand slipped to the bare skin of her leg and began slowly creeping upward.

  “Bear, stop!” Linsey gave up trying to move his head and reached for the hand nearing the apex of her thighs. “I’m not your Snow!”

  “So long … “ His voice trailed off into indistinct murmurs that Linsey realized must be Shawnee. He held her firmly but gently. A tender steel trap.

  A startled squeal left her lips when his hand reached its goal. At the same time his lips found the bud of her breast. Even through the dress, Linsey felt her nipple harden to the unfamiliar, exciting tug of his lips.

  “So warm.”

  “Stop!”

  Linsey tried to squirm within his grasp, hoping to dislodge his hand … or mouth … or both. She was astonished by her body’s response to his touch.

  “No, Bear, you must stop.”

  “Come to bed, my wife.”

  “I’m not your wife!”

  His caresses were awakening her body to exciting sensations she never knew existed. A warmth filled her, coursing like liquid fire through her veins, wanting to burst free.

  Bear’s mouth left her breast, nuzzling its way down to her stomach. “The babe,” he whispered reverently. “Our babe.”

  “Baby?” Linsey ceased struggling, her heart hammering an unnatural beat. “A baby?”

  A gentle smile crossed his face as he laid his scarred cheek against her flat stomach. “We will raise enough little warriors to make their grandfathers proud. Our children will know the best of both worlds, my Snow: the dignity and pride of their mother’s people, the elegance and knowledge of their father’s. Deeply loved by their parents, could any child ask for more?”

  Taking advantage of her sudden lack of resistance, Bear’s hand slipped between her thighs to caress her rounded bottom. He lightly rubbed his scarred cheek against her abdomen, and Linsey knew it was a remembered response to a befogged mind. Sometime in his past he had rested his head against a swollen belly that held his growing child.

  Linsey stroked his hair, offering comfort. Her eyes brimmed with unreleased tears. What secrets in his past tormented his present? He had deeper scars than the visible ones. Without being told, she knew that Snow and their child were dead. She had no doubt that if Snow still lived, Bear would be with her. The depth of love in his voice told Linsey that only death could have separated them.

  Carefully, Linsey tried to dislodge his caressing hand. She knew that this was not an attempt at rape. His mind was in another place, another time. He was loving Snow. He was caressing the mother of his child, not the strange woman he had found in his cabin the night before.

  “Don’t leave!” His voice broke with anguish as he clutched her painfully to him. “So alone … not again.”

  Deep, rattling coughs rumbled through his massive frame, and he abruptly released her. Stumbling backward at the sudden freedom, Linsey watched him attempt to breathe. She was relieved to be free … and yet, her body tingled where he had touched. Her breasts throbbed for more of his exciting kisses.

  When the coughing eased, Bear’s chin dropped to his chest while deep shudders made his big body tremble like a leaf in the wind. He slowly raised his head, his dark eyes meeting hers … eyes filled with a haunting pain. Linsey realized that for the moment he was once again lucid.

  “She’s gone, she and the babe. I wasn’t there when they needed me.” His gaze left her, his eyes turning toward the fire, hi its gentle glow, Linsey saw a tear streak down his cheek. “I failed them.”

  Whoever she had been, Snow was still very much loved by this gentle giant. Feeling his pain and grief, Linsey briefly envied Snow, wondering what it would be like to be so loved.

  With a deep sigh, Bear fell back onto the bed. His eyes drifted close, the tear a silver memory on his cheek.

  As she approached the bed, Linsey wondered at her lack of fear. If he had not started coughing, he could have easily raped her, never remembering the deed. She knew he would have been gentle with her. After all, he would have been loving his Snow again. For a momentary flash of time, Linsey regretted not knowing the experience of his love.

  “What kind of a woman are you, Linsey Marie Mac Adams?” she berated herself. She had been physically stimulated by a man that only moments earlier she had thought of as some kind of a monster. She had enjoyed the caresses he had thought he was giving to his wife, a woman he deeply loved. And for a brief time, she had envied the woman — a woman who in death still retained his love.

  Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Linsey called his name. When there was no response, she sighed and reached for the tangled furs. It was then that she looked at his massive chest. It was heavily muscled and thickly covered
with crisp, curling hair.

  And more badly scarred than his face.

  The three scars that ended abruptly at his jaw started again just above the middle of his chest. Only here there were four lines that became five farther down his stomach. They continued on an angle from left to right, slashing down his body, turning into six scars where they disappeared beneath the pants low on his narrow hips.

  “Ach mon, what have ye done?” she whispered, unconsciously using the long familiar brogue her father had brought with him from his native Scotland so many years earlier.

  There were four newer marks slashing across the scars. Not nearly as deep as the older scars, they still showed signs of having bled. With a pang of regret, Linsey realized they were from her fingernails.

  The incoherent ramblings of the man on the bed snapped her out of her shocked trance, and she quickly covered him with the furs. She turned and stumbled to the table, her trembling legs unable to support her slight weight. She sat down, looked at the fire and vaguely realized it needed another log, but her hands were shaking so much she knew she wouldn’t be able to put a log in without risking burning herself.

  Her reaction to Bear mystified her. She had never responded to any of her many escorts in Philadelphia with such abandon. How could she feel repulsion, pity and attraction all at the same time?

  Across the room Bear rested quietly. The only sound in the cabin was the crackling of the fire, its light throwing a golden glow over the room and the anguished young woman who stared hypnotically into it.

  Bear’s feverish mind wove in and out of delirium, meshing reality and dreams as the long night slowly passed. The nightmares of past tragedies taunted him cruelly, memories of things never forgotten.

  Linsey forgot time as she endlessly sponged him. She carefully tended the left side of his face and extended the baths down his chest. She felt reluctant, at first, to touch him — somehow it seemed too intimate even in its innocence — but as dawn approached, she was no longer hesitant. Taking special care in the areas around the scars, she worried that they were more sensitive than the surrounding skin and that she might inadvertently cause him pain.

  Moving like someone older than time, she walked back to the fire to replace the warmed water. Linsey sat down, her head cradled on her folded arms. It had been a long night, and still Bear’s fever raged. She fought sleep, knowing she must stay awake, but exhaustion was taking its toll, making her movements slow and clumsy.

  “Autumn Fire?”

  Linsey raised her head. The sound had been so soft she was not sure if she had heard it or imagined it. Her eyes met his, and for the first time in hours his dark, clouded gaze was rational.

  “Bear?” Linsey stumbled in her haste to get up, tripping over the chair and sending it crashing backward.

  “Water?” A slight smile crossed his face as he watched her awkwardly hurry to do his bidding. The smile vanished when she reached the bed and he saw the dark circles beneath her eyes and the evidence of the long night.

  Remembering the last time he had tried to drink, Linsey dipped a clean rag into a fresh pail of water. She held the cloth to his mouth, dampening his lips and letting him suck the liquid from it. She pushed the tangled hair from his face, unconsciously resting her hand on the scarred cheek to check the temperature. His skin was still hot, but she thought, or maybe just hoped, it was slightly cooler than it had been.

  “You are tired, Autumn Fire,” he whispered in a deep, gravelly voice, very aware of where her hand rested.

  Linsey smiled softly at him. “I think you’ve been making up for all those healthy years.”

  Bear moved, wincing at the soreness throughout his body. “Have I been trampled by a herd of buffalo?”

  “No buffalo, just a simple cold,” she replied teasingly. “Simple colds always attack big, strong men the hardest.”

  His eyes fluttered closed, and he yawned widely. “I’m hungry.”

  She threaded her fingers through his hair, feeling very protective of him. “Sleep,” she whispered quietly. “You can eat when you wake again.”

  Linsey sat beside him for a long while, watching him sleep. She let her hand rest in his hair, finding comfort in simply touching him. Deciding that his fever was no longer at a dangerous level, she sighed deeply and stood. Stretching, easing the kinks out of her body, she had an overpowering feeling of exhilaration.

  She had won! She had fought to save him and had done it. Carrying the pails to the door, she opened it and tossed the water outside, repacked them with snow and took them back to the fire.

  Her exhaustion gone, she hummed lightly as she hung a large pot of snow on the hook and swung it toward the fire. Her prime concern now became food. Reasoning it out, Linsey knew that if he hadn’t been able to swallow water, it would be impossible for him to eat much of anything. Not quite sure how, or with what, she decided to make a broth. Perhaps if she fed it to him slowly, he’d be able to have some nourishment.

  Digging through various baskets and bowls, Linsey found nothing from which to make the broth. Finally, in Bear’s backpack just inside the door, she found some strips of the dried meat she recognized as jerky.

  Also in the pack were several small bags of herbs. She opened each bag and smelled its contents, wondering if she could add them to the broth for flavor. The first three were odorless, the next one was overly sweet, but the last was repugnant.

  “Uck!” Linsey fanned the air in front of her nose as she quickly closed the bag. “If it smeils that bad in the bag, what would it smell like cooking?” She shuddered at the thought and returned the bags to the pack, deciding that she’d remember the sweet one. If she couldn’t find anything else, she would come back for it.

  She dropped three small strips of the jerky into the large kettle and continued searching the cabin. In a large bag, she found a white, grainy substance, and hesitantly tasting it, Linsey discovered it was sugar. Delighted, she dragged the bag across to the fire and dumped a handful into the pot. When it quickly dissolved in the bubbling water, she wondered if she should use more. Not caring for overly sweet things herself, she nonetheless remembered that most people preferred extra sweetening. Maybe Bear would be more likely to eat the broth if it were slightly sweet. Shrugging, she scooped three more handfuls into the pot.

  She found several carefully-labeled containers of herbs. Unfortunately he had written their names in French. Linsey could speak a few words of the language but could not read any of it. She smelled the herbs, and when she found one she liked, she added it to the pot. Sometimes, if the aroma was strong, she added only a little of the herb, others with a slighter scent she added in greater proportions. She stirred the concoction with a large wooden paddle, her stomach growling as the spicy, sweet odor filled the cabin.

  Remembering that their Philadelphia cook had once complained that nothing tasted right if it was not salted, Linsey rummaged through the bags and baskets. Not finding the grainy powder she was familiar with, she was about to admit defeat when she discovered a large block of white crystals in a wooden box. She touched the tip of a finger to the block and then to her tongue.

  It was most definitely salt, but in a block weighing several pounds. Linsey looked around the cabin searching for something to use to chip some pieces off the block. She spied Bear’s hunting knife — his well-honed, carefully maintained hunting knife — on the table. She discovered that by scraping repeatedly over the top of the block she quickly had a handful of salt. Recovering the box, Linsey carried the precious seasoning to the pot, dropping it in.

  As she stirred the broth, Linsey felt a quiet satisfaction steal over her. She had not panicked when Bear had needed her. She had thought the problems through and had been successful in finding solutions. In Philadelphia there were hired servants to see to her every need, but in the wilderness, with Bear so sick, she had only herself to depend on. When applied correctly a little common sense went a long way, she decided smugly.

  The day dragged on, Bear wak
ing only long enough to sip at water. Several times she poured him a cup of broth only to find that he had fallen asleep before it could cool enough for him to drink. Wanting to save the delicious smelling soup for Bear, Linsey chewed on pieces of jerky. She would sample her own cooking after being sure that Bear had eaten as much as possible.

  Linsey walked to the bed for what she thought must have been the hundredth time that afternoon and lightly touched his cheek. He still felt warm, but not as dangerously hot as earlier. As if her touch had awakened him, Bear opened his eyes.

  “Hungry,” he muttered hoarsely.

  “You must be getting better if your stomach is the first thing you think of when you wake,” Linsey teased. She smoothed back the dark hair on his forehead. “Can you stay awake a little longer this time? Everytime I get the broth cool enough for you to drink, you’re asleep again.”

  Bear started to roll to his side, but the aches and pains flowing through him convinced him it wasn’t worth the effort. “Are you sure it wasn’t a herd of buffalo?”

  “Not even one tiny, baby buffalo.” Linsey smiled before walking back to the fireplace. She spooned some of the broth into a cup and blew on it, wanting to cool it before he could go back to sleep.

  She carried it and a spoon back to the bed and sat on the edge. She filled the spoon with the broth and raised it to his mouth. Bear opened his lips, and the flavor seemed to attack his senses. Intent on feeding him without spilling it, Linsey missed the startled expression that momentarily crossed his face.

  “This is the first time I’ve ever cooked anything,” she said proudly.

  Bear swallowed the repugnant brew. At least its heat felt good on his raw throat. “What did you put in it?” he asked weakly as she held another spoonful to his mouth.

  “Well, I found some jerky in your backpack —” Linsey began listing the various ingredients she had used.

  Bear’s hand came up, and with a surprisingly strong grasp, he clasped the hand holding the spoon at his mouth. “Backpack?”