Quillan lay beside his wife, amazed and humbled. He hadn’t intended it—probably the doctor would frown upon it—but he’d been so gentle, every touch, he hoped, erasing the hurtful ways he’d touched her before. And now with her curled in against him, his breathing matching hers, he knew what it was to be one. He felt incredibly whole.
Lord, don’t let me hurt her ever again. He felt an overwhelming need to protect, to guard this woman who tried to seem so fierce and independent but was truly fragile, as all life was fragile. He fought the sleep coming over him, not wanting to surrender the intensity of emotion that coursed through him as he held Carina sleeping, or nearly so, in his arms. Love, unlooked for and utterly beyond his understanding, had a grip on his heart that pained him. Maybe if he’d learned it as a child, known it for years as others did, as Carina had, in a family—maybe then it would not be so terrifying.
But their union tonight intensified his fear of losing her. What if he couldn’t be what he promised? What if he failed her again, hurt her again? She could be vindictive, but it wasn’t that. It was his own failings that formed the nightmare. God, help me. Teach me what I need to know. He closed his eyes and buried them in Carina’s hair. With his muscles strained from digging through the snow to her, his energy spent loving her, sleep came, and Quillan succumbed.
SEVEN
As a snowflake, icy edged, unique in shape and kind, so a soul traversing life, alone until it finds, one to which it cleaves and forms, a new and wondrous thing.
God in perfect wisdom makes the human heart to sing.
—Quillan
CARINE WOKE FOR THE FIRST TIME in Quillan’s arms. At first she thought she dreamed him there, but his warmth, the prickling of his whiskered chin on the side of her neck, the sound of his breathing, were too real. Her heart swelled. Signore! Not once had Quillan stayed with her until the morning.
No, that wasn’t true. They’d woken together in the mine, when he’d pulled her from the shaft. And once, again in the mine, after the vigilantes had tried to hang her. But those were not the same. Still, she suddenly felt a longing for the Rose Legacy, to be alone with Quillan on the mountain. It was impossible. She couldn’t make the trip. Dr. Felden would never allow it. But if he didn’t know . . . Turning slightly, she shook Quillan.
“No.” He nestled his face deeper into her neck.
She laughed. “Wake up. I want to do something.”
“So do I, but Doc Felden would have my hide.”
Had he read her mind? Then she realized what he meant and blushed. Why was she blushing when there were no longer secrets between them?
Quillan kissed her behind the ear. “Let’s hibernate till spring.”
Her heart warmed. He wanted to stay! Signore, at last! But she was restless for the mine, the square foundation that had been Quillan’s parents’ home, the shaft above the limestone cave that held the geode crystal cave and the painted chamber of Wolf ’s life. She wanted to go with Quillan.
“Hibernate?” She wiggled again, this time dislodging his arm enough that she could turn onto her back. “You’re not a bear, though you growl like one when you’re wakened. Come on. It’s late, and I want to go out.”
He raised himself to one elbow and hovered above her. “Not a bear, eh?” He plunged his face into her neck.
With a shriek, she fought him back, laughing. “Stop it. You’ll wake Mae’s entire boardinghouse.”
“I’m not the one making all the noise.”
“You’re causing it.” She could hardly believe him. He could play!
He closed her into his arms and settled her snugly against him. “There’s no sense going out. It’s going to snow today.”
“How do you know?” She pushed his chest.
He said, “Sam was whining in his sleep.”
“So?” She turned her face to see his expression.
“So that’s how I know.” His eyes had a half open languorous quality.
“A dog whines, and you know it will snow?”
“Not a dog. Sam—Second Samuel.”
She waved a hand. “So he’s a prophet, eh?”
“Do that again.” His mouth quirked.
“Do what?”
“Wave your hand like that.” He formed his rascal’s grin.
Carina hid her hand beneath the covers. Quillan caught her face and kissed her. Again she marveled. Had this tenderness always been inside him, waiting to show? Or had it just germinated? Whichever it was, she thanked God for it now. Pushing gently away, she said, “I want to go to the Rose Legacy.”
“Um-hmm.”
“Now. Today.”
“Ah.” He kissed her again.
“Quillan. I want to go with you. Into the cave—”
Quillan covered her mouth with his palm. “You know the doctor won’t allow it. No horseback, remember?”
“He wouldn’t have to know.” She spoke through his hand.
He took the hand away with a frown. “And you think I’d do that? Defy his orders to satisfy your whim?”
“It’s not a whim, it’s . . . I want to go. Here.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “We could take Father Charboneau. He wants to see Wolf ’s pictures. Did you know they were friends?”
“From my mother’s diary I guessed it.” Quillan forked his hair back over his shoulder. “But it’s out of the question, Carina. You’re not fit to make the trip.”
“But—”
A knock on the outside door stopped her argument. Quillan smiled smugly and rose, pulling on his pants over the long wool flannel drawers no mountain dweller would be without. He padded to the door and opened to Dr. Felden.
“Quillan. I hadn’t heard you were back.”
“I came in last night.”
The doctor glanced at Carina. She had already wrapped herself in Nonna’s shawl and straightened the bedcovers around her. Quillan pulled on his coat and boots and whistled softly to Sam.
“Coward,” Carina wanted to holler as he slipped through the door, leaving her to answer for them. One look at Dr. Felden’s scowl and she wanted to run, too.
“You understand, Mrs. Shepard, that your kidneys are not yet fit? That is, not fit yet to handle a delicate condition.” A new pregnancy he meant. “That prudence requires patience.”
Blood rushed to her face. Tell that to my husband. Having a physician for a father had rendered her immune to many of the embarrassments of her culture, and she was unflustered by the mention of body parts and ailments others found discomfiting. But having the doctor scold her as though she were responsible for Quillan’s actions last night—She should not be surprised. He was a man.
“I feel well, Dr. Felden.”
“Your feelings are not reliable.” The doctor flung open his bag. He drew out his binaural stethoscope to hear her heart. Carina knew this morning it would race. How could it not? Quillan was home and he loved her. He loved her.