When Shannon was on his lap, the water came up to the hollow of her throat. The hot spring swirled gently around Shannon, engulfing her with heat.
Breath hissed through Whip’s teeth at the touch of the water. Though he knew it wasn’t really hot in this part of the pool, for the first few moments the water felt like fire against his chilled skin.
«Are you all right?» Whip asked. «Does this hurt you?»
Shannon shook her head.
For a time there was only the soft hiss of the lantern and the subtle currents of warmth drawing the chill from their bodies. Whip’s arms surrounded Shannon, holding her upright against his chest while she shivered.
Whip could tell when Shannon’s brain started to thaw out. Though she was still shivering, she stiffened and tried to draw away from him. His arms locked, holding her against his chest.
«P-Prettyface,» she said.
«Prettyface is fine. Hell, he’s better off than you are. No need to jump out and check on him. You’re still cold enough to shiver icicles. Stay put until you’re warm.»
Shannon didn’t argue. It was too much effort to speak. She simply nodded.
But she didn’t rest against Whip’s chest again, either. She was remembering all too clearly how he had pushed her away the last time she had been close. She wasn’t going to put herself in that position again. It had hurt too much.
It still hurt.
Whip’s mouth settled into a tight line that had nothing to do with being cold. He had liked the feeling of Shannon leaning on him. He had liked the gentle weight of her on his chest and the fragrant silk of her hair brushing against his shoulder with each shift of her body.
But when he tried to draw her dose again, she stiffened and pushed away.
After a time the hot spring won out against the chill left by the icy meltwater. Shannon’s shivering subsided and her body slowly relaxed.
Whip could tell the precise instant when Shannon’s skin thawed out enough for her to recognize what he had known ever since he climbed into the pool with her — they were both naked.
«Let me g-go,» Shannon said stiffly.
«You’re still shivering.»
A tremor went through her that had nothing to do with cold.
«I’m f-fine,» she whispered.
«Good,» Whip said coolly. «Then maybe you can tell me what the hell you were doing floundering around the countryside when you should have been snug and warm andsafein your bed?»
«Hunting.»
«I figured that out. What I didn’t figure out was why.»
Shannon’s head came up. For the first time she saw Whip’s eyes. For all his outer calm, he was furious.
No news in that, Shannon told herself. Seems like he’s been furious with me ever since I admitted to loving him.
«Why do people usually hunt?» Shannon asked.
«Do you think I’m such a bastard that I won’t hunt for you?»
Shannon’s surprise showed dearly in her wide sapphire eyes.
«Of course not,» she said.
«If I hunted for you, would you take what I gave you?»
«Yes.»
«Then why in the name of God were you out hunting?» Whip demanded.
«You won’t always be here to hunt for me, so I have to learn to fend for myself.»
«You would do one hell of a lot better fending for yourself with Cal and Willy.»
«By your estimate, yes.»
«But not by yours,» he retorted.
«Not by mine,» she agreed. «Besides, I can’t just walk out on Cherokee and Prettyface.»
«Prettyface would warm to the ranch.»
«Cherokee wouldn’t.»
«How do you know?»
«I asked first thing after I got back.»
It was Whip’s turn to be surprised. «You did?»
Shannon nodded.
«I had a long time to think about how sad and angry you looked when you rode off,» Shannon said simply. «I decided I could go back and — and try — try living someone else’s life.»
Whip’s eyelids flinched at the pain in Shannon’s voice.
«If — if it didn’t work, the cabin would still be here,» Shannon said, «but I couldn’t go unless Cherokee was taken care of, too.»
Relief coursed through Whip. The arms holding Shannon gentled. He brushed his lips lightly over her hair, so lightly that she couldn’t feel the caress.
«That tough old boy has been taking care of himself twice as long as you’ve been alive,» Whip said. «He’ll do fine up here alone. You won’t.»
«Wrong,» Shannon said succinctly. «Shehas been taking care of herself for a long time. Shelikes it that way. That’s the way it’s going to stay.»
«She?»
«She,» said Shannon. «Cherokee is a woman.»
«Judas H. Priest.» Whip shook his head in disbelief. «You sure?»
Shannon nodded.
«So stop worrying about me, yondering man,» she said in a low voice. «A woman can make it just fine alone, even all the way up Avalanche Creek.»
«No. You won’t survive the winter alone.»
There was no inflection in Whip’s voice, simply an absolute certainty that said more than any shouted tirade could have.
«I survived last winter,» Shannon said, «and the one before that, and the one before that.»
Whip tried to speak, couldn’t, and tried again.
«What do you mean?» he asked roughly.
«Silent John disappeared three winters ago.»
For a moment Whip was motionless. Then he shook himself as though he had been hit with a board.
He felt like he had.
«You’ve wintered alone here three times?» Whip asked harshly.
«Yes.»
Whip wanted to believe Shannon was lying, but he knew all the way to his soul that she wasn’t.
«Then Silent John must be dead,» Whip said.
Shannon nodded and closed her eyes. «He’s buried in a landslide up Avalanche Creek.»
«How long have you known?» Whip demanded angrily.
«I guessed he was probably dead the second winter. But I wasn’t truly certain until just a bit ago, when Cherokee told me she had backtracked Razorback to a fresh landslide when Silent John didn’t come back from the claims. His tracks went in, but none came out.»
«Then nothing’s holding you here but your own stubbornness,» Whip said.
«There’s nothing holding anyone to life but sheer stubbornness,» Shannon said wearily.
«You’re planning on staying here.»
Shannon nodded.
«Damn you!» Whip said roughly. «You’re trying to tie me down!»
«No! I’m just tell —»
«How can I leave you alone and helpless up here?» he asked, his eyes as hard as his voice. «I can’t and you know it! You’re counting on me to —»
«I’m not helpless!» Shannon interrupted. «I’m not counting on you for one damned thing! I don’t need you!»
A turmoil of emotions twisted in Whip, tightening his throat, making it raw. The cold he had felt in the stream was nothing to the freezing emptiness that came to him when he thought of Shannon lying dead in the high country, her grave as unmarked as Silent John’s.
«The hell you don’t need me,» Whip said in a low, savage voice. «You nearly died out there today.»
For the space of two long breaths, Shannon looked at the man who was so close to her, yet so very far away. Lantern light made his hair burn like the sun and turned the icy clarity of his eyes into a quicksilver mystery. Nothing had ever called to Shannon the way Whip did. She would have given the blood from her body to see herself reflected in his eyes, in his heart, in his soul.
She would have sold her own soul to be a distant sunrise calling his name…and to hear him answer.
«Yes,» Shannon said calmly. «I could have died. But so what? The stars would have come out tonight and the sun would have risen tomorrow morning. The only difference would be that I wouldn’t see it.» She smiled oddly. «Not much difference, really. About the same as this.»
Shannon lifted her hand from the water. Liquid swirled and then flowed back as though her hand had never been there, never known the pool’s warmth.
Whip looked at the dark water and felt a dull knife sawing through his soul, cutting him in two.