A Handful of Heaven

When she felt his hand on her stomach, she lost control Tears poured from her eyes. She didn't try to stem their flow, for she knew it would be useless. Every dream she'd ever h had just been shattered.

God help her. She was pregnant by a man who couldn accept the responsibility of feeding a dog.

A child was certainly out of the question. There was choice left to be made. She loved Cornelius too much make him accept a responsibility he didn't want. She'd firsthand how forced responsibility affected a man.

Not that Cornelius was anything like her father; he wasn't He was an honorable, loving man. So honorable in fact that if he knew about the child, he'd marry her. A marriage he didn't want for the sake of a child he didn't want.

No, she decided grimly, that kind of marriage wasn't what she wanted. Not for herself, not for the child, and certainly not for Cornelius. There was no choice to be made. She had to leave before Cornelius found out about the baby-and that wouldn't be much longer.

When the boat left Dawson City, she'd be on it.

Chapter Twenty-one

In her sleep Devon snuggled closer to Cornelius. Beneath her bunched-up nightgown, she felt the welcome, familiar warmth of his legs intertwined with hers; a quiet, contented snore escaped her lips.

She became aware of it slowly: his sensuous, lingering kiss. Without thinking she parted her lips, allowing her lover free access to her mouth. The kiss-a building, magical caress-deepened. She felt his tongue graze her teeth then move on, tangling with her own. A knot of sweet, aching pleasure formed in her loins.

The hard skin of his palms slid across her breasts, making her shiver in anticipation. She blinked awake.

"Hi," he said.

The sound of his voice brought a lazy smile to her lips. A smile that faded the moment she remembered last night.

The memory hit her with the force of a physical blow. Oh God, she thought suddenly, if the boat came today, this would be the last time she'd waken in his arms. The last time she'd feel his loving touch on her body.

She threw her arms around him. A sob welled in her throat; she felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes.

"Love me," she whispered shakily. "Now ..."

It was slow and quiet and almost bittersweet, their love-making. Afterward, as Devon lay in his arms, she tried to block out the memory of last night, but it was useless.

"Devon?"

She heard his voice as if from far away and wrenched her

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thoughts back to the present. Pulling out of his warm embrace, she looked up at him. The concern in his eyes twisted her heart. "Y-Yes?"

"What's the matter?"

She bit down on her lower lip to stop its tremble. Her gaze plummeted. God help her, if he kept looking at her like that she was going to crumble. . . .

"Dev?"

"Nothing's the matter. I was just thinking about-"About last night. About our child. Her voice wobbled."-about the post. Shouldn't one of us get down there? The men are counting on us."

He sighed, a worn, weary sound that said he knew exactly what she'd been thinking about-and that it wasn't the post. "Yeah," he said finally, pushing away from her body. "I'll open up. You come on down when you want." '

The minute their bodies separated, Devon felt coldness, sweep the length of her exposed skin. A coldness of the soul, j

She forced herself to remain in bed as he dressed for theL day. It was the only way she could keep from flinging herself I into his arms.

When he'd finished dressing he sat down on the bed beside her. The wooden planks supporting the bed groaned beneath his weight, as they did every time he came to bed. For the first time the noise sounded melancholy to her ears. She felt an almost overwhelming sense of loss.

Stop it! her mind commanded. Quit being so maudlin.