He only realized how long he had struggled within himself when Joey’s head dropped wearily into her arms where they rested on drawn-up knees, her silver-gold braid catching moon and firelight as it slid over her shoulder. It had grown very late and very cold, and Joey shivered even as her body demanded its toll of rest.
Luke hesitated only a moment. He got up from his place across the fire and moved to her side with steps too silent to wake her. For one last instant he paused, inches away so that he could hear the sweet sound of her breathing and smell the rich femininity of her scent. Then he dropped down beside her, his arms closed about her so that she eased back into them without coming fully awake, her loose-limbed body a feather-light softness. She sighed, and her eyelids fluttered as she settled against him with complete and unconscious trust.
He held her there until the fire died, his face pressed into the silken spun-starlight of her hair. For those time-suspended moments he was able to believe there was no future to deny. “Joelle,” he murmured against the gentle pulse at her temple.
Her name drifted out into the night, and the unasked question was answered by a solitary cry of a distant wolf.
Chapter Ten
The next morning dawned brilliant and very cold, Joey felt more rested than she had in many days. The luxury of waking to breakfast and coffee and hot water had added a great deal to the feeling that everything was working out far better than she could have hoped. Only the continual, nagging awareness of Luke and the memory of what they had revealed to one another prevented a lapse into a reckless state of sheer happiness.
Luke himself seemed unaware of the subtle change. He was reserved but friendly, casual but oddly intense in that way of his. As they started their day’s hike, she caught him looking at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice; always that intensity was there. She had almost grown used to it. Almost.
It was easy to fall deep into thought, lulled by the steady rhythm of the pace Luke set, relying on his watchfulness in place of her own. Sometimes she would stumble, and he’d catch her, chiding her for her inattention, but he seemed content to take the responsibility.
She was free to assimilate all he had told her of himself and his background, adding another piece to the puzzle that was Luke Gévaudan. It only made the other missing parts seem more vital.
Thoughts soon became more of a burden as their ascent up the slope of the ridge grew steeper, her feet struggled for purchase on the scree, and choosing each step took more and more of her concentration. Luke’s hand was always there to steady her, his solidity a barrier against any fall. He almost insisted, once, that she transfer more of the contents of her pack to his; with a stubborn desire to prove herself, Joey declined and made the vow that she would keep up with him, one way or another.
It was harder work than she had thought, but she managed it. Her reward was Luke’s appraising glance as they reached the summit of the pass, his slow smile of approval.
As they paused for a cold lunch, Joey caught her breath and basked in the feeling of accomplishment. And Luke’s regard Around them, the ridge was bare of trees, an open place where the wind was sharp and marmots whistled among the rocks. Joey shivered and pulled on the extra layers of sweater and parka she had discarded on the long hike up. A goshawk cried, sharp and sweet, as it rode the air currents in search of prey.
From here the valley that swept away below them was a canvas of rich green, unbroken save for a few meadows and the revelation of water where streams cut through the forest. The valley was small, well protected by mountains on every side. Joey packed away the uneaten food and savored the magnificent view.
“Is that still your land?” she asked, awed by the sheer scope of it.