Merline Lovelace by A Savage Beauty

Daniel plunged his hands into the body cavity to thaw them in the steamy warmth. When feeling came back into his fingers in stinging spurts, he gutted the animal, hauled the carcass over his shoulders and started for the river.
    The men had already made camp by the time he caught up with them. The snow was coming so thick and fast by then that he might not have found them at all if not for the sharp scent of their fire. Following his nose, Daniel stumbled into camp. Eager hands reached out to relieve him of his burden.
    “Damn, Sergeant! We thought you was lost for sure.”
    “You got us a prime one.”
    “Enough meat to last a few days, anyway.” That came from Private Boley, the designated cook. He wasn’t any better at it than the other men, but liked being first at the fry pan.
    The others huddled close to the fire, cursing the cold, the snow and the madness that had made themagree to take part in this ill-fated expedition. Only the woman sat apart, as she always did. And as he’d come to do, Daniel cradled his coffee mug in both hands for warmth and went to join her.
    Louise watched his approach with eyes that stung from the cold. It struck her again how quickly her life had changed. Three days ago, she’d had no thoughts in her head but cleaning the take from Henri’s traps and making sure he wore enough furs to still the cough that rattled in his chest. Now, she greeted the approach of this broad-shouldered American with a curious sense of anticipation. And relief.
    It was his manner, she decided, as much as his wide shoulders and lean, muscled flanks. He brought his ragged band into order with just a word or a glance. She’d learned by now that the sick one, the lieutenant, was the chief. But this one, this rifle sergeant, was their leader.
     
    He stayed with her throughout the meal. He even accompanied her into the woods when she went to relieve herself. And, as he had on each of the previous nights, he made his bed where she did. This time, though, he spread his blanket atop hers.
    “It’s going to get colder than a grave tonight. I’ve told the men to huddle up. We’d best do the same.”
    Her fingers tightened on the robe draped around her shoulders. She said nothing, could say nothing.
    “It’s just for warmth,” he said gruffly.
    Louise might have believed him if not for the way he held himself as stiff as a lodge pole when shecrawled into the cocoon made by their blankets. He didn’t bend, didn’t curve his body so much as an inch to fit hers. They lay with her back to his front, neither moving, until the cold seeped into her bones and she began to shiver.
    “Here.” His breath was a wash of warmth in her ear. “Snuggle closer.”
    Hooking an arm around her waist, he drew her into the cradle of his thighs. She wiggled her bottom to escape the prod of a broken branch and heard him pull in a sharp breath.
    He jerked away, but not before she felt another prod at her rear cheek. Her womb clenched, a swift, mindless response that sent heat spearing through her belly. They lay stiff, their lower bodies angled away, neither speaking but each, Louise suspected, thinking the same thoughts.
    The litany of Henri’s oft-repeated teachings drummed through her head. There was no shame in the pleasures of the body. No shame in the desire that joined a man and a woman. The only shame lay in denying those desires.
    Louise had often suspected he repeated that chant as much for himself as for her, but she didn’t dispute the truth of it. She’d taken pleasure from his hands and mouth, and given as much as she could in return.
    But this—
    This joining wouldn’t compare to Henri’s fumbling attempt to pierce her maiden’s shield. Nor to the infrequent times he’d entered her body after that. With everything that was female within her, Louisesensed this man, this soldier, would pleasure her in ways Henri could not.
    A liquid heat formed between her legs. She no longer tried to tell herself she didn’t