White Wedding. Jean Barrett

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СКАЧАТЬ nothing on the sea of ice but the two racing sleighs. The air was no longer still. Lane could feel a ripple of wind in her face as their destination loomed ahead of them. This time she distracted herself by remembering what Allison had told her about Thunder Island.

      By legend, it was the ancestral home of the Thunder clan of the Menominee people who had once dominated this entire region of Wisconsin. Shaped like an artist’s palette, the island was almost two hundred acres in extent. Nearly all of it was heavily wooded with evergreens and mixed hardwoods. On its southern end—and Lane could see them clearly now—were massive, sheer limestone bluffs sloping gradually to the low, rocky shoreline on the north. The lodge was situated on the higher end of the island. She searched for a glimpse of it as they neared the island, but the forest concealed it.

      “Almost there,” Dan promised as they rounded the shoulder of the closest bluff and headed into the indented portion of the palette, which formed a natural harbor.

      Seconds later their sleigh reached the island’s dock, where the pickup truck that had brought out the supplies and the weekend helpers was parked. Lane felt like a white-knuckled flier who has just made a safe landing. Climbing from the sleigh with relief, she expressed her gratitude to Dan.

      “Thanks for all the expert hand-holding. Oh, it looks like we’re being met.”

      Two men, who must have noted their arrival from the lodge, were descending the bluff trail. Lane and the judge watched them emerge single file from the trees.

      “Probably came down to help with the luggage,” Dan said. “That’s Nils Asker in the lead. Runs a charter fishing boat in the summers. Allison has known him and his wife, Dorothy, since she was a girl. Dorothy will be waiting for us up at the house.”

      The figure he indicated was tall and bony with a weathered Nordic face.

      “And the other one?” Lane asked.

      The second man had appeared from behind Nils where the path widened. He was younger than Nils, broad shouldered and copper skinned. He had the impressive, dark good looks of a pure Native American on his stoic face.

      “That would be Nils’s brother-in-law, Chris Beaver,” Dan said slowly, “but I thought...”

      He didn’t finish. There was a sudden expression of concern on his face. Lane, puzzled, saw him glance sharply in Allison’s direction. The second sleigh was emptying on the other side of the dock. Allison was busy talking to the driver, getting his assurance that both sleighs would return for them on Monday noon. She was unaware of the newcomers until Nils called a friendly greeting.

      Lane was even more mystified then by Allison’s reaction when she looked up and discovered the presence of Chris Beaver. Her face registered shock and another emotion that could only be described as unhappiness. What’s more, her bridegroom, Hale, hadn’t missed her response. Chris, meanwhile, began silently unloading luggage, his somber black eyes making contact with none of them.

      And just what, Lane wondered, is this all about?

      She had no chance to find out. Jack had left the other sleigh and was striding toward her purposefully. That meant she had her own emotions to deal with, and they weren’t easy ones.

      It didn’t help that he was dressed like that—his familiar Aussie outback hat crammed on his head at a rakish tilt, plus bulky ski jacket and snug cords that emphasized his lean masculinity. But then, Jack Donovan would have been disarming in a Sherpa ceremonial robe.

      Subtlety was never his style, and obviously that hadn’t changed. Reaching her, he wasted no time in asking bluntly, “You all right? Was the crossing bad for you?”

      Of course, he knew all about her phobia. He knew far too much about her, damn it.

      She chose her words and tone with care, wanting him to realize she appreciated his concern but that he no longer had any right to be worried about her. In effect, reminding him that his overprotectiveness had been one of the sources of conflict in their marriage.

      “No need to ask, but I’m just fine, thank you.”

      Her politeness clearly annoyed him. “I could have been there for you if you’d let me ride with you instead of abandoning me to that female predator. I know well-preserved bones are supposed to be my specialty, but—”

      “You can take care of yourself, Jack. You always have.”

      “Not this time. The woman is as rapacious as a T. rex. Oh, hell, here she comes again.” He groaned aloud, much to Dan’s amusement.

      Ronnie Bauer joined them at the foot of the dock, burbling, “What a delicious spot to get snowbound in!” She moved close to Jack’s side, adding far too obviously, “With the right individual, that is.”

      Dan chuckled softly. “Afraid you’re out of luck on this trip. There’s no forecast of any real snow for the weekend. That’s what I’ve been assured, anyway.”

      Ronnie’s scarlet mouth formed a little pout of disappointment. “Too bad, because I brought enough outfits to cover that possibility. Jack,” she pleaded, “you will help me up to the house with my luggage, won’t you? I have some of my good jewelry in one of the cases, and I’m not going to trust that to just anyone.”

      Lane saw her opportunity to escape. “I wasn’t that foresighted. I have only one suitcase, and I can manage that on my own. See you at the lodge, everyone.”

      Her case had been deposited with the others on the dock. She snatched it up before Jack could extricate himself from Ronnie’s latest ambush and fled up the path on the heels of an impatient Stuart Bauer.

      The men had cleared the trails with snowblowers, and the ascent was gradual. Still, with a bulky suitcase to carry, Lane found the climb a challenging one. But Ronnie was right. The island was delightful with its thick forest and ledges of layered, mossy rock thrusting through the cover of snow.

      She was puffing by the time she reached the crown of the bluff. Lowering her suitcase, she stopped at the edge of the woods to recover her wind. Stuart had disappeared somewhere ahead of her on a restless investigation of his own, and the others were still behind her. Lane had a moment to herself to enjoy the scene. And it was worth her appreciation.

      Just below her, tucked into a spacious, open hollow at the sharp edge of the bluff, was the sprawling, two-storied lodge. Scandinavian in character, it was a pleasing combination of log and fieldstone. A jumble of chimneys, steep roofs and windowed bays made the composition even more appealing.

      Her interlude ended when Jack overtook her seconds later. Dropping his burden of luggage, he confronted her. “Are you planning to avoid me the whole weekend?”

      “Why are you here, Jack?” she responded tautly.

      “Stand still for two minutes, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

      “I don’t think I can afford that.” Seizing her suitcase, she moved on toward the lodge.

      “Damn it, stop running away from me,” he called after her. “What’s wrong with you? Are you afraid to be with me?”

      Lane neither paused nor turned her head when she answered him with an emphatic, unqualified “Yes!”

      * * *

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