Rafe looked up at the sadness in Shea’s eyes.She was already very much attached to the small bear.He had watched her cuddle it, sing to it.It was only natural; she had been lonely.
Lonely enough to bed with him.Lonely and scared enough to accept what companionship she could find.He didn’t delude himself that what had happened between them was any more than that.
He couldn’t let it be, no matter how much he wished differently.
He looked at the cub in his arms.Trouble, he called the small fellow in his mind, but he hadn’t said the name out loud.He hadn’t wanted to share a name with Shea, to make it more difficult for her to give up the animal.He was a man without attachments.He didn’t want them, didn’t need them.But Shea wanted them.Her search for her father proved that.
“Do you really think he’ll be all right in the woods?”Shea asked, her hand trailing down the thick fur of the cub, which began nipping on her other hand.
“I think that she-bear outside will take very good care of it,” he said.
“His leg?”
He shrugged.“The young heal easily.”
“I’ll miss him,” she said sadly.“So will Abner.”
Abner had taken up sleeping next to the bear, since the time the mouse had darted in to grab a crumb of cracker the cub had left scattered on the floor.The cub had been asleep, and Abner had crawled up next to it and nestled against its little fat stomach.Now he did it frequently, and the cub made no objections.
“He’ll find a new, warm place,” Rafe said wryly.
He saw her quick, questioning glance.He was talking about more than the mouse; he was trying to reassure himself that Shea Randall would have a warm place after this, a safe place.
Still, nothing had changed.He wouldn’t rest until he received some kind of justice.
The cub’s rough tongue licked him.The salt he thought.The salt that remained there from the sweat of lovemaking.The thought made him stiffen again, and he knew he needed a swim in the icy water of the pool.
“Let’s go see if the mother will claim him,” he said, trying to keep the roughness from his voice.
Shea nodded.She had braided her hair again and dressed in the trousers and shirt that were so unintentionally enticing.She was quiet this morning, attuned to his own laconic mood.
They went out the door.The mother bear was back, prowling back and forth as it had every morning, waiting to see its offspring.Rafe approached cautiously, watching the bear rear on its legs.He came within ten feet of the animal and very carefully set the cub down and backed away.
The bear moved just as warily toward its cub, licked it, and then nudged it.The cub moved several feet, then several more.It looked back toward the cabin, but the she-bear nudged again, and it obediently limped toward the woods.The she-bear roared and then headed toward the woods, looking behind to make sure its cub was trailing.It was.
Rafe turned and saw the sheen in Shea’s eyes.He had never met anyone so tenderhearted, so gentle.He had to keep reminding himself that she really was Jack Randall’s daughter.He didn’t want to remember that, but it was there between them.
“Damned bear nearly ate everything we have,” he said, forcing irritation in his voice.“Ben will have to make another trip.”
She glanced up at him and smiled.He buried the pleasure he felt at her smile, trying to smother it under anger.But it didn’t work anymore, dammit.He felt buoyant.
“And what will we do about this morning?”she asked saucily.
He could think of something, God help him.And it had nothing to do with food.His hand reached out and touched the braid.“Nothing daunts you, does it?”His tone was unusually whimsical.
“I could think of a few,” she replied with devilish humor.“A furious bear.A glowering outlaw.”
He wanted to glower again, but he couldn’t.He was lost in the magic of her eyes, the glow of her face, the grin on those much too inviting lips.He let go of the braid and moved his fingers to her face, running them down those smooth cheeks, and then the woods went silent, and he knew someone was approaching.
Automatically his hand dropped to his side, and he realized he hadn’t worn his gunbelt.The rifle, too, was inside the cabin.He no longer worried that Shea Randall might try to use it.
Rafe heard a low whistle, and he knew it was Clint.Each of the men had a different, predetermined whistle.“Clint,” he said to Shea.“There must be some news.”
He felt tension suddenly invade her, as if reality had just stolen back into her life, and she was silent as Clint rode toward them.
Clint looked at them.Rafe was afraid he would see more than he wanted Clint to see.Not for his sake but for Shea’s.“I have to talk to you,” Clint said.“Alone.”
Rafe turned to Shea.“Wait inside.”It was more curt than he’d intended, but there was something in Clint’s eyes he didn’t like.He saw a quiet protest in her eyes.
