Merline Lovelace by Countess In Buckskin Page A

first assessment of the American’s appearance, Tatiana admitted silently. He had not Aleksei’s heart-stealing handsomeness or roguish charm, but neither was he quite the great hairy beast she’d first labeled him. Above his beard, his clear, gold-flecked brown eyes looked out on the world as though he owned it. His skin was weathered to a tanned, supple leather and carried no pocks or pits from the pox that afflicted so many of the sophisticated courtiers of Tatiana’s world. And his smile...
    She bit her lip, thinking of that unexpected and altogether disturbing smile. Thinking as well of the quiet pain in his voice when he spoke of his lost love, and of his refusal to hold Tatiana to her bargain.
    Perhaps she’d also been too hasty in her assessment of his character. Perhaps... perhaps this journey would not be the voyage into despair she’d imagined. Buoyed by a new, tenuous hope, she crawled out of the nest of pine boughs and joined the American at the fire.
    Her brief surge of hope lasted only until noon.

Chapter Six
     
     
    W ith an eye to the graying clouds, Josh set a punishing pace.
    Just before noon, he led the way around a spindletopped peak and headed for the bald upper slope of an otherwise impassable crag. Suddenly the temperature dropped and the wind began gusting in awful surges. Roaring and booming through the gorges like cannon fire, it stirred the snow and threw it up in the travelers’ faces.
    They were halfway across the bleak, desolate stretch above the tree line when the clouds dropped and obscured all landmarks from view. Cursing, Josh picked up the pace as much as he dared. After only another mile the pony’s labored breath and heaving sides forced him to call a halt. The little packhorse would never make it with the load it carried. Grimly Josh went to work on the ropes securing the heavy packs.
    Tatiana stumbled up beside him. The violent gusts whipped her hair until the tendrils danced around the tied-down beaver hat like dark, writhing furies.
    “What do you do?” she shouted.
    “We’ve got to get down to the timberline, and fast,” he yelled back. “I’m going to lighten the load.”
    “Can we not...” The wind snatched her words away. “...here until the storm passes?”
    “What?”
    “Can we not stay here?”
    “No. Without the trees to break the wind, the cold will cut right through to our bones. We’ll be dead before morning.”
    Josh reached for the basket. Tatiana’s face went rigid with alarm.
    “But...”
    “No buts.” He dumped the heavy container onto the snow.
    “But we cannot leave the basket!” Her mittened hands clutched at his sleeve. “We must not!”
    He shook her off. “We must and we will. You’ve got two minutes to get out of it only what you need to survive for the next few days.”
    The smaller of Josh’s packs landed beside the basket with a dull thud. He reached across the wooden support poles to even the remaining load. He hated to abandon the extra supplies he’d traded with Cho-gam for, but if he didn’t get himself and his charge below the tree line before the storm broke, they wouldn’t have much use for smoked salmon and coarse-ground acorn meal.
    “You must...leave...another pack and take...the basket. Please.”
    He almost missed Tatiana’s frantic plea in the shriek of the wind. He couldn’t miss the way she planted herself in front of him, blocking his reach for the pony’s reins. The desperation in her face brought Josh up short. Blue lipped with cold and staring a blizzard in the eye, she still wouldn’t abandon her belongings.
    He stared at her through eyes half-closed against the wind and whipping snow. A few female fripperies wouldn’t cause this urgency.
    “Just what’s in this precious basket of yours?”
    “I told you! All I could save of that which came with me on the ship. I must take it to Fort Ross.”
    Josh turned and strode back to the objects in the snow. Panting, she hurried alongside him.
    “The