Page 55 of I Do, I Do, I Do
Chapter 13
The hostile land and primitive living conditions strained tempers and frayed the nerves of weary men. Over the years Bear had seen brothers snap like twigs and try to kill each other. He’d watched two long-term partners saw a canoe in half so each had an equal share when they dissolved their partnership. He’d watched people go crazy and do crazy things along the trail. But he’d never seen anything like the scene that greeted his eyes when he returned from rabbit hunting.
Close to the shoreline two people appeared to be flapping their elbows under a mound of blankets, but no one paid any attention. And no one bothered to enjoy an expensive bonfire. But there was a hell of a lot of punching, kicking, gouging, stomping, swinging, and fighting going on. There must have been over three hundred men down there, fighting like an army in hand-to-hand combat. It was the biggest brawl Bear had ever seen. And he could hardly wait to throw himself right into the middle of it.
After tossing his rabbits and rifle and gloves to one of the spectators staying out of the fight, he waded into the melee looking for Jake Horvath and knowing that Jake would be looking for him. This was as good a time as any to settle their differences. But when he found Horvath, Horvath was sitting on the sidelines sopping up blood from a broken nose. Bear had to settle for a few of the men who had pissed him off by referring to him as a daisy-boy for letting a woman beat him at arm wrestling.
He’d happily flattened two men when he saw Zoe Wilder indiscriminately swinging a long piece of charred firewood, laying low anyone she managed to hit. Then he spotted Clara right in the thick of it, too. She had her skirts hiked up indecently high to give her room to kick. Any man who approached her got kicked between the legs. Five men lay at her feet, clutching their privates, groaning and throwing up.
Duty overcame Bear’s pleasure in a good brawl. Someone had to get those women out of this before they got hurt. He tried shouting Clara’s name, but the din was so loud his voice got lost in the noise. Throwing people out of his way, he fought toward her. By the time he reached her, she was facing away from him and another man lay writhing at her feet.
He tapped her shoulder and shouted her name.
Instantly, she turned. In the same fluid motion she stepped into him and brought her knee up hard between his legs. The ground shook beneath his body when he went down.
He saw her eyes widen and her hands fly to her mouth before pain exploded behind his eyes and between his legs. Damn it, she’d done it to him again.
Brooding, Bear sat hunched in front of his tent, staring at the flames of his campfire. Never in his life had he met a woman as magnificent as Clara Klaus. It was his profound bad luck that she was a respectable type. He had nothing to offer a respectable woman.
Even so, he couldn’t get her out of his mind, couldn’t stop watching her. Now that the days were considerably shorter, he’d developed a habit of standing in the darkness and observing as she and her companions ate their supper. He positioned himself so he could watch the firelight or lantern light flicker across her splendid skin. Now he knew that she preferred her own cooking, had learned that she constantly tucked a truant strand of hair behind her left ear. When she laughed, he smiled in the darkness. When she frowned or sighed, he wondered why and sometimes dared to hope that she sighed over him.
“We need to talk.”
Well, speak of the devil and here she was. And she wore the hat he liked best, a winter green felt worn on top of a scarf that came down over her ears and tied beneath her chin. All he saw of her hair was a fringe of red curling on her forehead.
“Now why would I want to talk to you?” he said, as though he was still upset at her. But he waved her to a camp stool. Watched her fuss with the folds of a short walking skirt made out of brown duck. The color almost matched her coffee-and-cream eyes.
“I’ve come to offer my sincere apologies.” The peachy tones in her cheeks were lost to flames of embarrassment. “I didn’t know it was you. When you grabbed my shoulder, I reacted instinctively and I just…” She waved a mitten. “It’s taken two days for me to find the nerve to come and speak to you.”
He’d known she would. That’s why he’d paid a king’s ransom to get his hands on six bottles of German ale. He fetched two bottles out of his tent and brought them back to the fire.
“Apologies are drinking occasions.”
“Thank you.” Her eyebrows soared. “Mein Gott!Where on earth did you get this?”
He studied her, wishing he was more respectable or that she wasn’t. Wishing he could forget her. Wishing he’d never seen those amazing breasts.
“For years I’m going to be hearing snickers about how you bested me at arm wrestling, then beat me up in a brawl.”
“I am truly sorry.”
“No man alive can claim to have beat me in anything.” Clara Klaus was the only person who had ever put his arm on the table or his body on the ground. When he thought about it, he didn’t know whether to laugh or swear or worship at her feet. But one thing was certain. He’d have to whip every man in the Klondike to restore his reputation.
But then, he could do that and he would enjoy it. So he might as well forgive her. But not immediately.
“How is Miss March feeling?”
“She’s stronger every day. Mortified that several hundred men might have glimpsed an inch of exposed flesh.” Clara smiled and shook her head. “She doesn’t remember much about what happened. If Mrs. Eddington hadn’t told her, Juliette wouldn’t have recalled that Mr. Dare warmed her under the blankets with her completely naked, and him mostly so. She won’t see him. Won’t come out of the tent. But aside from some sniffling and sneezing and a huge dose of humiliation, she’ll be fine.”
They drank the rest of the ale in silence, eyeing each other and listening to the camp noises. Bear liked it that she hadn’t asked for a glass, but drank out of the bottle like an ordinary person. She had some exemplary qualities for a respectable woman.
Still, she was nothing but trouble for a man like him. That’s why he’d been avoiding her and why he was mad at himself for slipping around in the darkness to watch her. He couldn’t stay away from her.
“I need to say some things,” he said at length. If she kept gazing at him with those clear, steady eyes, and he kept fantasizing over her ripe strawberry mouth, he would do something he’d regret. Since he seemed to lack the willpower to forget about her, he’d have to make her take the initiative and wash her hands of him. It was time for her to understand that he was not husband material. There was no future here.
“Ja?I’m listening.”
Bits and parts of her reminded him of food. He didn’t know what that meant. Her eyes were light coffee, her skin peachy, she smelled like apples. Her mouth made him think of strawberries. Her breasts were like melons. He wanted to taste every inch of her, wanted to nip and lick and suck and savor, wanted to make a meal out of this delectable woman. It would be a long time before he forgot about her.
