“Yes.” A slight stretch of the truth, she reasoned.
“By prescription?”
“Yes. They are more effective than anything sold over the counter,” she explained, mustering every ounce of nonchalance she could find. “As you’ve seen, I work very hard.”
He eyed her skeptically for several moments before retrieving his things and leading the way into the cabin. Before she had even had a chance to look around, he was on his way out once more, ax in hand. “I’m going to chop some wood for the pile. Make yourself at home.” There was an undercurrent of tension in his voice, making her infinitely grateful for the moments of privacy he gave her in which she might collect herself and her scattered composure.
Several deep breaths bolstered her, enabling her to look for the first time around the cabin. Moving slowly, her eye perused the large, single room of the structure, absorbing the freestanding wood stove for heat to her left, the similarly footed wood-burning stove for cooking to her right, the rough-hewn table and chairs farther in, the built-in shelves and storage units all about, before finally coming to rest on the bed. One bed. Large. Anchored to the wall with long, steel spikes. Covered with layers of home-styled quilts. Beckoning and foreboding at once.
It was to the bed that her unsure footsteps took her, crossing the wide rust carpet which was intended for warmth. Slowly, she lowered herself, then looked about once more. How would she survive the intimacy of this cabin? Could she love Sloane freely, as every nerve end screamed to do, all the while knowing that, once back in New York, things would never be the same? There was her career, the fact that Sloane would have her in marriage or not at all, and … the baby.
For what seemed an eternity, the rhythmic hammer of the ax echoed through the silent wilderness, the closeness of the cabin, and the ache of her heart. Her mind’s eye pictured the ripple of muscles beneath the parka he wore, the flex of muscles in his arms as he would raise the ax, drive it downward, then raise it again. Yet, even amid her inner turmoil was the solace, strange but distinct, that Sloane was here to care for her. Rocked by the steady percussive beat, she slowly relaxed.
“There, that should do it for a while.” The tall figure burst into the cabin, his hair gleaming with the light behind, his eyes warm and deep. “Do you feel better now?”
“Yes.” Suddenly shy, she struggled to find something to say. “Am—am I supposed to be doing something here? I can’t just sit and watch you work.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not my way, and you know it, Sloane Harper.”
His grin seared its path to her heart as he turned from lowering the wood before the stove and approached. Parka removed, he wore only the wool shirt which clung to his damp chest. Perspiration put a sheen on his nose and forehead, his hair dipped into its moistness. “You could come out and keep me company while I fish for our dinner.” He arched an eyebrow in suggestion. “The fresh air would be good for you.”
“Hah! I’ve had more fresh air in the last few weeks than I’ve had in years. I’m not sure my lungs will be able to adjust to that thing they call air back home.”
“All the more reason to enjoy it now. Come on.” The tilt of his head seconded the invitation. Justine accepted it.
Moments later she found herself back on the dock, this time in better humor and engrossed in Sloane’s deft handling of the rod and bait. “What do we catch?” she asked.
“Depends what’s biting today. Could be salmon; more probably rainbow trout. If you look closely, you can see the breaking of the water as they come up to grab at insects. Look.”
Her eyes following his finger to the center of the lake, where, indeed, after a few minutes’ silent wait, the surface dimpled for a moment, then was still again. “What else should I be on the lookout for?” she asked facetiously. “Snakes? Sea creatures? Wolves?” Her eyes widened. “Bears? Oh, no, Sloane.Youheard those stories right along with me. There are plenty of bears out here. Do you have a gun?”
His attention did not waver from his work. “There is one, I think, in the cabin, but I have no intention of using it unless we are in dire danger of attack. Most bears are simply curious. If you see one, just freeze and watch. Unless it is a mother with her cub—and the little ones are pretty big by this time of year—you will be in no real danger.”
“Very reassuring,” she sneered good-naturedly. “My real danger is from you, is that it?”
In place of the smart retort she had expected came a silence, shrouded by Sloane’s abrupt tensing. “No, Justine. Your only danger is from yourself and those preconceived notions you’ve built your life around. I pose no danger to you.”
Swallowing convulsively, she looked away. Unbidden came memories of an earlier discussion, one that had prompted the pain and anguish which only the discovery of her pregnancy had alleviated. Perhaps he was right. How simple it would be to give in to him, to agree to a marriage, even knowing how potentially devastating it might be. But, no. She couldn’t change her mind.
“If you brought me out here to sermonize, I won’t listen,” she murmured softly, her eyes glued to the far-off peaks.
His answer was as low. “Then I won’t waste my breath. The silence is too lovely to spoil, unless the talk is constructive.”
A new thought hit her. “How longarewe going to be here, Sloane?”
“Gus will be back in three days. If the weather holds. And if his plane keeps flying. As he said, he may be late, but he always makes it.”
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you,” she asked, wondering why the realization hadn’t come to her sooner.
“To this cabin, no. Out there”—his eyes rose to the mountains—“yes. I was part of an expedition that scaled Mount McKinley nearly ten years ago.”
“Were you?” Enthusiasm softened her features quickly. “What was it like?”
He thought for a minute, searching for the words to describe the experience. “It was cold and long. It was the most trying thing, physically, that I’ve ever done. It was also the most exhilarating, the most satisfying, the most climactic. Almost.”
“Almost?” Without thinking, she prodded him. “And what was themostclimactic?”
