During mating season, the male mink travels considerable distance to find his proper mate. During this state of prowling, he may have numerous affairs before settling down with the female of his choice.
Ian MacDowell’s journal
“Scotty.” The sound rasped from Alex’s throat like the edges of a saw.
She gaped at him, unable to find her voice.
“Scotty, hand me the towel.”
Her gaze flicked to the towel lying across the arm of the chair near her. Slowly she turned back to stare at him again. She saw his arousal, and caught her breath. That part of him grew and swelled before her eyes, bobbing from the weight of it, glistening from the bathwater. It grew amid all that wonderful black hair … hair that was now heavy with moisture. The hair on his legs was plastered against his body, and they were fine legs, indeed.
When her body forced her to breathe again, her gasps were rapid and shallow, and her heart thumped so fast, she thought she might faint.
“Scotty, the towel, please,” he demanded, his voice rough and urgent.
“No.” The sound that came out was so soft, she could barely hear it herself.
Swearing, Alex stepped from the tub, leaving wet footprints on the floor. He grabbed the towel off the chair by the fireplace and wrapped it around his waist.
“Dammit, girl, have you any idea what you’re doing?”
She continued to stare at him, her mouth open and her heart pumping madly. “What am I doing?”
“It’s not decent for a girl to stand and boldly stare at a man.” He ripped another towel off the peg by the fireplace and rubbed his hair dry.
“Why not?” she asked, still breathless as she watched him.
“Because!”
Scotty stood her ground in spite of his curious anger. “Why are you so upset, Alex? This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you, you know. And I find your body very beautiful.”
He swore again, tossing the towel he’d used on his hair in the chair as he strode toward her. He clamped his hands over her shoulders. “You don’t say things like that to a man. Do you understand me? Never say that to a man.”
He sounded angry, but there was a different message in his eyes—and his body. It all confused her. She looked up at him, noticing the dark stubble of beard, and marveling that so much had grown out since yesterday morning, when he’d last shaved. “But, Alex,” she said softly. “It’s true.”
He groaned. “Do you know what most men would do if you talked that boldly?”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t mean to be bold. I’m just—”
“You’re asking for something I don’t think you even understand,” he said, his voice still ragged. She shook her head. “I didn’t mean—”
“Dammit, then you’d better learn,” he interrupted. He hauled her against him and locked his mouth over hers.
Somehow, Scotty knew, it was supposed to be a form of punishment. He was angry, and the kiss started out that way. But she reveled in it. Remembering what he’d taught her before, she answered the kiss, moving her lips over his, opening to allow his tongue inside.
He moaned against her mouth. The sound made her shudder, and she thrust her tongue against his, rubbing, tasting, feeling. Her hands slid up his damp chest, twining in the hair over his nipples. The nubs were hard, like her own often were, and surely were now. She felt a sweet pang of desire explode in her pelvis.
The bulge behind the towel moved, pushing hard against her belly. She ached to rub against it where she hurt the most, but she was too short, or he was too tall. Her hunger intensified, and her frustration grew. She pressed against him. His fingers tightened painfully on her shoulders, and she wished he’d wrap his arms around her.
Wanting to touch him everywhere, she tugged at his towel.
Suddenly he pulled back and held her away from him. He was breathing hard. His eyes were dark and she saw the pulse at his throat pumping behind the hair-covered skin.
“Now do you understand?” he growled, his dark eyebrows shoved down over his eyes.
She drew in a ragged breath. “But I liked it, Alex.”
An expletive exploded from his mouth, and he turned away, but not before she saw the towel standing out like a tent over his groin.
“Get out of here!”
The harshness of his voice puzzled her. “But I—”
“Get the hell out of here and let me dress.”
She stared at his broad, smooth back, knowing she’d done something wrong. Never in her life had she needed to watch what she said to others. Hell and purgatory! She knew she was outspoken, but her father had always said it was part of her charm.
“Well?” Alex turned and glared at her.
She sighed. No sense making him angrier than he already was. She grabbed her jacket and crossed to the door. “You’re as fickle as a woman.”
“What in hell does that mean?” He stood behind the chair, the towel still around his waist.
She looked back at him, confused. “Before I even knew who you were, you pranced naked in front of me until hell wouldn’t have you. Suddenly, you’re covering yourself like a shy maiden.”
Shaking her head, she opened the door. “You’re a fickle man, Alex Golovin,” she repeated, then went outside, closing the door behind her.
She’d been in bed for an hour, yet she couldn’t sleep. Something had been brewing in her head, and she couldn’t shake it loose long enough to relax.
“Alex?”
Although he was quiet and seemed to be breathing deeply, she sensed he wasn’t asleep. “Alex,” she repeated, “I know you’re not asleep, so dinna go pretending you are.”
He shifted in the bedroll and muttered something she couldn’t hear.
“What do you want?” He sounded exasperated, no doubt hoping to discourage her.
“Well,” she began, then sighed. “I’m thinking it would be best if you taught me, well … you know.”
He turned and pinned her with an angry glare. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Well,” she said again, hiking herself up on her elbow, “it would be nice if you could teach me how to please a man.” There. It was out. She felt a pinch of relief.
“What?” The sound came out like an explosion.
“Don’t get angry until you’ve heard what—”
“Scotty, we will not have this conversation. Go to sleep.”
She flopped back on the bed and twisted her face into a frown. “You sound like a bloodless spinster. I just knew you’d be an old grump about this.”
“Yes,” he answered. “That’s exactly what I am. An old grump.”
“But, Alex,” she probed, studying his long, hard form. “I dinna know anything about how a woman pleases a man. Don’t you think it’s time I learned?”
He groaned and uttered a colorful expletive into his pillow. “Scotty,” he began, sounding very patient, “one day you’ll find the man you’ll marry. He will, no doubt, find your innocence refreshing and exciting.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she groused. “I want to learn how to … to make a man feel … feel hot and itchy—the way I feel when I think about you.”
“Dammit, didn’t you learn your lesson this afternoon?”
She laughed softly, remembering the sweetness of his punishment. “You mean when you thought to penalize me with your kisses?”
She glanced at him just as he squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Scotty, I—”
“I think,” she interrupted, not wanting him to scold her further, “that you feel that way about me, too.”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t shout at me,” she scolded quietly. “It won’t do any good. I saw you, Alex. I saw the way the towel moved over your … your male thing. Oh,” she said hurriedly, “I know what it’s called. I’m not that stupid. I … it’s just that you probably think I shouldn’t say the word out loud.”
“Why not?” he asked, his voice weary with sarcasm. “You’ve said nearly everything else.”
She flopped against her pillow again. “All right, then. I saw the way your penis moved under your towel. A man’s penis only does that when a man is excited, and—”
“Scotty, you don’t know what you’re saying, so stop it, right now. Not another word.”
“But I know that’s true, Alex. Once I saw Jamie in the bushes, playing with himself. He wasn’t as big as you are, but he—”
“Dammit, Scotty. Stop it now.”
She glared at him. “Or what? What will you do to me? Maybe you should punish me with something other than kisses, Alex. Maybe you should spank me. That’s how you punish children.”
“I’m not going to answer you again, Scotty. You’re trying to make me angry, and it won’t work. And, no, I will not teach you how to make love to a man!”
He turned toward the fire, presenting her his back.
Scotty heaved up a disgusted sigh, slid from the bed and crossed to the fire. It needed fresh kindling before they went to sleep.
He hoisted himself up on his elbow. “Go back to bed, Scotty. I’ll do that.”
She gave him a small, weary smile. “No, I’m almost done.”
He stared at her. “It won’t work, Scotty.”
She turned again. “Excuse me?”
“You. Standing there with your back to the fire, your legs outlined beneath your gown. Don’t try to seduce me, Scotty. It won’t work.”
She glanced down and discovered he could see her perfectly. Even the thatch of dark hair between her legs was visible. “Oh, my,” she whispered, looking back at him. “You can see right through this.”
He swore. Flinging back the covers, he stood, grabbed her arms and hauled her to her bed. He pushed her down on her back and pulled the covers up to her chin, shoving the ends in under the mattress.
“Now, stay there, dammit! I don’t want to hear another word out of you until morning.”
He stormed to the bedroll on the hearth.
“Alex?”
“What!?”
She smiled, feeling a warmth deep in her bones, for she’d seen his desire for her, strong and hard, beneath his snuggies. “Good night.”
“ ’Night.” His answer was sullen, making her smile spread wide across her face.
Scotty opened her eyes. Something had awakened her. Glancing toward the hearth, she saw Alex sitting in her father’s chair, his long legs stretched out on the ottoman. The cabin was warm; he’d fed the fire. It was bright and hot, sending long licks of flames up the chimney.
She slid out of bed, and as she walked toward him, he turned and looked at her.
“What are you doing up?” she asked quietly.
He continued to stare at her, pulling his gaze up, over her breasts to her mouth, then back down again. Firelight glanced off his face, sending his features into Satanic planes of light and shadow. His eyes glinted dangerously. There was definitely something different about him.
“I couldn’t sleep, thanks to you,” he almost snarled, lifting a bottle in her direction.
She stepped toward him and smelled the whiskey. “You’re drinking.”
“You’re observant.”
Ignoring his sarcasm and her own nip of fear, she moved closer. He was bare-chested, as usual, sprawled in the chair, his elbows resting on the wide arms, and his legs apart. His body was open and inviting; his mood was not.
She got a glimpse of the whiskey bottle he had gripped in his fist. It was almost empty.
“Whiskey doesn’t solve anything, Alex.”
“What in the hell do you know?”
His tone stung like a slap. “Alex, if I did this—”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he interrupted, taking another swig. “Oh,” he muttered. “How rude of me.” He lifted the bottle in her direction. “Join me?”
She almost said no, then changed her mind. Why not? It might help settle the nerves that jumped around in her belly. “Yes,” she answered, “please.”
He snorted expressively. “ ‘Please,’ ” he mimicked. “Please is a damned hot word. Did you know that?”
Shaking her head, she went to the cupboard and took out a tiny glass. “A hot word?” she repeated, holding her glass while he slopped a little whiskey in the bottom.
“Yeah, hot.” He smirked. He was drunk.
She took a sip of the harsh drink, pushing aside the urge to hold her nose as she swallowed. It burned all the way down her throat, into her stomach.
“I’ve always—” She coughed delicately, trying not to be obvious. “I’ve always thought please was a rather pleasant, cool word.”
He shook his head, giving her a long, heated look. “Not when you want a man to make love to you.”
She almost choked. “Wh-what?” By the holy, she’d wanted that very thing earlier, but now, the reality of it scared her speechless.
He leaned his head back against the chair and sighed lustily. “I can see you, Scotty. Begging, moaning, writhing beneath me, wanting something you can’t name. ‘Please,’ you’ll whimper next to my ear.” His voice grew husky. “ ‘Please …’ ”
The thin layer of reserve that usually enclosed him was gone, leaving a wild, dangerous man beneath. It truly did frighten her. “Alex, you’re drunk.”
“Hell,” he said, giving her a wicked grin. “I’m drunk, and I’m on fire. Drinking’s supposed to numb the urge.” He reached out, his reflexes not at all affected by the liquor, and grabbed her arm. “Did you know that?”
His grip was tight, pinching her skin. She tried to pull away, but it wasn’t possible. Frightened, she took a gulp of her whiskey. Her fingers shook, and she dropped the glass on the floor. It shattered at her feet.
With no gentleness at all, he hauled her onto his lap. “Having a little case of nerves, sweeting?”
She could feel the bulge at his groin against her buttocks. “I … I don’t know what you mean,” she answered, hoping her voice didn’t quiver.
He gripped her chin with his free hand, pulling her face close to his. “I’ll just bet you don’t.”
She couldn’t avoid the bright, fierce burning in his eyes. “Alex, you’re scaring—”
“Oh, but isn’t this what you want? Isn’t this what you begged for just hours ago?”
Was it? No, not this. Not this anger. “I … I don’t think so. Not like this, Alex. Let me up, please.” For all the brave talk, she was still a frightened, inexperienced girl.
“Oh, ‘please,’ is it? Ah, little unspoiled, untouched, unsullied virgin.” His voice was lower and huskier than usual, sending clanging messages of alarm to her brain. “That’s not how to say ‘please,’ remember?”
She sat on his lap, her back rigid and her throat so tight she thought she might go into spasm. “Pl—” She caught herself. “Alex, I want to get up.”
He pulled her head toward him and buried his face in the long, loose hair that cascaded across her shoulders and over her breasts. “Your hair. I want to drag it across my chest, lose myself in it. I want you to wear nothing else … nothing else.”
His words caused her to shiver, and when his fingers combed through the hair at her temple, her fear ebbed away, and she knew she’d have to work very hard to resist him.
With his hand cradling the back of her head, he pulled her closer, his whiskey laced breath hot against her cheek. “You were right, Scotty. You tempt me,” he whispered against her ear, sending shards of pleasure along her nerves.
“I … I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, yes you did,” he interrupted, nuzzling her ear with his nose. “You might not have known the consequences, sweeting, but you were headed in the right direction.”
He was driving her crazy. Every instinct told her to bolt before she couldn’t handle it, but the hunger that washed over her had made her knees useless.
Suddenly he pulled away. “You broke your glass. Gotta see if you’re hurt.” He put his glass on the floor and pulled her foot toward him. His hand moved over her skin more gently than she’d expected.
She sat quietly, not wanting to encourage him or anger him further. His hand crept up her ankle, his thumb moving back and forth across the bone. A shiver danced along her spine. “I … I’m fine, Alex. Really, I’m fine.”
He continued to move his fingers upward, inching past her knee. She was all hot and breathless. As his fingers moved closer to the place between her legs, she felt it swell and grow wet with a shivering need.
Slowly, ever so slowly, his fingers moved upward. Part of her wanted to stop him. A stronger part wanted to urge him on. “Oh—” She fought to breathe, could hardly talk. “Will … you … ever … touch—”
She gasped as his fingers found her, and she bucked wildly on his lap. Then his hand was gone, leaving her confused, and filled with a strange, unfamiliar need.
Suddenly he pressed his face against her neck and nipped her earlobe, sending messages to every sensual spot on her body.
“Ah, dammit,” he whispered against her ear. “Do you taste this good all over?”
The whiskey began to affect her. The lethargy that washed over her frightened her, and she squirmed against him. “Alex,” she whimpered halfheartedly, “please, you’ve got to let me up.”
He laughed, a deep, whiskey-mellow sound that teased her. “Not nearly so insistent anymore, are you?” He flicked his tongue into the shell of her ear and reached up to cup her breast.
She bit her lip to keep from moaning out loud. Her nipple tightened before he even touched it, and when he did, she felt such an itch between her legs, she ground herself against him, wanting something, needing something she couldn’t name.
“Oh, God,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Say it.”
She was awash in sensation. He’d merely touched her, and her entire body throbbed. He cupped her breast until it was level with his face, then he drew her nipple into his mouth, wetting the fabric of her nightdress with his tongue.
His hand moved over her flat belly, dipping briefly into the hollow of her navel, then lower, hovering just above her mound. He moved the cloth back and forth over the hair that guarded her womanhood, and she writhed against him, pushing against his hand, demanding his touch.
He pulled his fingers back. The place between her legs burned. It throbbed. It pulsed with a heat more intense than anything she’d ever imagined.
“Alex,” she sobbed. “Please, please,” she begged. She spread her legs, absently noting that the wetness between the full, swollen folds hadn’t abated.
He pulled her face close, his mouth clamping over hers. The kiss was wild, unleashing further passion in both of them. Tongues darted, entwined, lips clung.
She grabbed his shoulder, pinching the muscle, then moved her hand restlessly down his side, under his arm. Her fingers found the elastic band of the snuggies he wore, and she dipped beneath it, the sensation of his body hair propelling her forward. She moved her hand toward that part of him that jabbed her bottom, and gasped when she touched the thick bush that cradled his sex.
Suddenly his hand clamped over hers. Disappointment rolled over her until she realized his hand was guiding her fingers to him. Quickly she moved to her knees, straddling his hard thighs. She touched him, the long, hot length of him, allowing his hand to guide her, teach her. They moved together, her fingers circling him, his hand moving them up and down, slowly … slowly.
“Just this,” he murmured. “Only this … nothing more.”
His free hand slid up her leg, lightly touching the sensitive skin on her inner thigh. He moved to within a hairsbreadth of her flesh and she trembled. He lightly feathered the hair, then gently slid his thumb over the crowning nub of her womanhood.
A swelling urgency rushed over her and she moved against his thumb, the pleasure almost unbearable. She no longer had control and she bolted, the shock of desire sending her into spasms of need. “Oh, please!”
Suddenly his rigid tool was at the threshold, but he held back. She would have none of it. She impaled herself on him, ignoring the slight stinging pain, gasping at the sensations that clamored over her.
Still he held her hips, rocking upward, coaxing her to move with him. Slowly she began to understand. They were one, tight together, moving together, breathing, shaking, moaning together.
Suddenly she felt his hands at her waist. He was trying to lift her off. She clung to him, pressed against him, refusing to allow him to set her aside. The movement increased the friction between them, and she felt him tense and groan. She also felt something hot and wet shoot into her womb as he collapsed against the chair.
She rested her head against his shoulder, listening to him breathe. She felt the tears, allowing their release. She still felt … itchy, but she was content. She had made him happy, and that was what was important. She was satisfied, and she wanted Alex to wrap himself around her and not let her go until morning. And, she thought with a heavy sigh, maybe even do this again.
She glanced up at him. Smiling a lazy smile, she noticed that he was asleep. She nestled against him and fell asleep in his arms.
She woke up in bed. The memory of the night before made her sit straight up. Glancing at the hearth, she felt disappointment wash over her, for the chair was empty, and the bedroll was rolled up neatly and rested against the wall. Alex was nowhere to be seen.
Closing her eyes, she slid down in bed again and hugged herself, wincing slightly at the discomfort between her thighs. A nervous, excited thrill lurched through her as she recalled the events of the night before.
Had she wanted this to happen? Not even to herself could she lie and say she hadn’t. But not in her wildest, most imaginative dreams could she have predicted how she would feel before, during and after they had mated. It was … interesting. Probably more fun once she caught on how to do it.
She smiled to herself. He’d been reluctant before. He’d tried to be a gentleman and not touch her, but surely he’d known all along that what they had done was inevitable.
Her heart swelled with joy. Now, Alex would stay with her in the valley. Surely he wouldn’t continue this foolish quest to see that everyone in the valley was homeless. Especially her. He wouldn’t do that to her, not after what they’d done together.
Shoving the covers aside, she got out of bed, wincing again at the soreness between her thighs. As she crossed to the privacy screen, she glanced at the floor, noting that the glass she’d broken during the night had been cleaned up. After she’d washed and dressed, she went out and started breakfast, hoping to have it hot and ready when Alex came back—from wherever he’d been.
She hummed as she worked, feeling light-headed, giddy and expectant. Breakfast was almost ready when Alex opened the door and stepped into the cabin.
Scotty’s pulse raced when she looked at him. “Good morning. Out for a walk so early?”
He glowered at her. In frosty silence, he took off his jacket and hung it on a peg behind the door.
“Alex?” She didn’t like the feeling that scampered over her skin. “What’s wrong?”
“I met Tupi down by the river.”
“Is he coming for breakfast?”
“He’ll be over shortly.” A muscle worked in his jaw, and he refused to look at her.
Scotty pushed down her panic. She’d had this feeling before, and she didn’t like it. But this time, she couldn’t be right. She just couldn’t.
“I … I guess we should wait for him—”
“The pass is open.”
She swung around and stared at him, her heart sinking. “But it’s only January.”
“A temporary thaw. It will last only until the next snowfall.”
Suddenly she found herself moving around like a wooden soldier. Her mind was whirling, and she wanted to ask him what he planned to do, but she was afraid to hear his answer.
“I’ve got to get back, Scotty.”
She swallowed the tears that clogged her throat and tried to concentrate on the fire. “But … but you’ll be back, won’t you?” She turned, her gaze resting on the back of his head as he stared out the window. A little part of her died when he didn’t answer. “Won’t you?”
He finally turned, and Scotty saw the look in his eyes that she’d hoped she’d never see again.
“No,” he said. “I won’t be back.”
Her fragile defenses crumbled. “But … but after last night, I thought—”
“You thought wrong.” He turned back to the window.
She blinked away the moisture that had collected in her eyes. What had gone wrong? She took a deep breath. “Alex, if I … if I didn’t do it right—”
“Dammit! This has nothing to do with you or your little feminine games. In case you hadn’t noticed, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
She staggered away from him as though she’d been slapped. “But … but I thought—”
He swung around and pinned her with an angry glare. “What? What did you think? That just because I drank too much and got a little carried away, you were going to have your happy ending?” He laughed, a nasty sound that made Scotty cringe. “Life isn’t a fairy tale, little girl.”
Her stomach caved in. She wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him, maybe not ever. Oh, but it did hurt so very, very much. “I see,” she said, hoping her voice sounded strong.
“I don’t think you do,” he answered, swinging around to glare at her again. “You see, I’m wise to you, Scotty.”
She swallowed hard. “Wise to me?”
“I’ve seen it work hundreds of times. It even worked on me, once upon a time,” he said, scorn lacing his voice.
Scotty’s hands shook as she began putting breakfast on the table. “And it didn’t work on you this time, is that it?” She hadn’t the vaguest idea what he was talking about.
He stepped to the window again, as if watching for Tupi. “The oldest trick in the world, used by women in the oldest profession in the world.”
She was completely baffled, but she wasn’t going to admit it. Obviously he thought she knew exactly what he was saying. “Well, then, I guess I should have known it wouldn’t work on you.”
He glared at her. “So, you admit it?”
She hoisted a kettle of cereal off the fire, carried it to the table and set it down on a trivet in the middle.
“Well?”
His voice made her jump. “What?”
“You admit you thought that if you could get me to sleep with you, I’d forget all about evicting you?”
She sagged against the table, sitting down quickly to cover her surprise at his announcement. “How could you think—” She couldn’t finish. Her throat was tight and her chest ached. Suddenly she knew that part of what he said was true. She also knew that all of her silly thoughts and dreams were childish and foolish. But worst of all, she knew he was going to leave her again, and nothing she could say would change his mind.
“Hey!” Tupi shouted, pushing open the door. “Breakfast ready? We get an early start, Mr. Alex, otherwise we won’t make it today. And we have to go today. Tomorrow, even tonight, will be too late.” He shut the door against the sunshine, enveloping the room with the gray light of desolation once again.
Unaware of the tension in the cabin, he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the bench. “Tupi is starving.”
Outwardly, Scotty tried to appear calm. It was necessary to keep her feelings to herself. Inside, she was crying, hurt beyond words. Alex was leaving, and there wasn’t a bloody thing she could do about it. She felt as though he’d ripped her heart from her chest and left it on the floor to die.