Midnight Star (Star Quartet 2)

She gasped at the pain in her shoulder and turned her head slightly away from him.

“I know you hurt, love. There’s nothing I can do about it. I’m sorry.”

“If I hurt, I know I’m alive,” she whispered. “How did you find me?”

“That, love, is a very long story. The rabbit is nearly cooked. Let’s eat first. All right?”

She nodded weakly. “There’s so much to tell you.”

“I know. First things first.”

He cut the meat in small pieces and fed her slowly. She ate everything. He realized that she was thinner. Her high cheekbones were shadowed, and for a moment he pictured her naked body in his mind. Much thinner, and so pale.

“I’m not pregnant,” she said.

He stared at her, not knowing what to say. Suddenly she gasped, her face contorting in pain.

“Del,” she cried softly. He grasped her hand and felt her fingernails dig into his flesh.

“Take shallow breaths and breathe slowly,” he said. “I’m going to tell you about the last five days. Listen to me talk. Concentrate on what I say, not the pain. Do you understand me?”

She swallowed, and kept her eyes on his face. He was bearded, and there were lines of fatigue around his eyes. The bandage around his head made him look like a bandit.

“It was near dawn, remember?” she heard him say, his voice pitched low and soothing. “I heard movement in the woods and went to see what it was. There were several Indians. One of them shot me in the head. Luckily the bullet just grazed me, but I was unconscious for a time. When I came to, you were gone.”

His hand tightened around hers. “I’ve never been so scared in my life. Unfortunately, the wound in my head kept me lying about for nearly that entire day. When I got my wits back, I knew the odds were that I couldn’t track you. I went to Grass Valley and organized search parties. At least ten men have been searching for you the past four days. I came back to where we had camped and searched from there.

“I’ve been scouring the country for two days now, in first one direction from our camp, and then another. I thought I’d dreamed the sound of your voice when I heard you scream my name.”

Her grip on his hand tightened.

“Chauncey, try to listen to me. Can you understand me?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m sorry to be such a coward.”

“You’re anything but a coward, sweetheart. No, don’t try to speak again. Breathe slowly. That’s right.

“Now, let me tell you something. I’ve been a thick-headed ass. You were right when you told me I would die of perversity if I didn’t make up my mind what I wanted. What I want, Chauncey, is you. I want us to begin again. No more secrets, no shadows between us. I’ve had nothing but time to think during the past days, to think and worry and hate myself for all the vile things I said to you in my anger.”

He grew silent for a moment, gazing into the crackling fire.

“I love you, you know.”

His eyes fell to her face. She was asleep. Gently he traced a fingertip over her pale lips, her smooth jaw, her delicate ear. He picked up the thick braid of hair and realized it was still damp. He unbraided it and spread her hair about her head. He cursed softly when he laid his palm on her forehead. The fever was beginning.

He held her tightly against the length of his body, stroking his hands up and down her back, and still she shivered convulsively. The small cabin was terribly hot, and he felt beads of sweat on his forehead and chest. She was burrowing against him, trying to get inside of him, he thought. God, if only he could give her his strength! But he couldn’t. There was nothing he could do save try to keep her warm. He felt her lips move against his throat and heard her speaking, slurred sounds that he couldn’t understand.

“Chatca,” she whispered suddenly, quite clearly. “I won’t let him touch me! I’ll die before I let him touch me. I’m bleeding!”

She began to laugh, a raspy, pitiful sound that made gooseflesh rise on his body.

“I’m bleeding and he won’t touch me! God, please help me!”

“It’s all right, Chauncey. He won’t touch you, I promise.”

Had the Indian raped her? What did she mean by bleeding? He suddenly remembered her whispering to him that she wasn’t pregnant. Had she begun her monthly flow? Had that saved her?

She was sobbing softly, and he felt her salty tears against his shoulder. He began to talk, softly and slowly, of anything to keep her mind from her ordeal.