very long time.’
‘It’ll be as long as we need,’ Finn said cryptically. ‘I’ll see you later.’
She hurried outdoors into the sunshine, wondering what she had gotten herself into. She had told the truth when she’d said she’d never been afraid of a man; even Mac had never really frightened her.
But Finn Marston was different. Dauntingly different.
He wouldn’t take no for an answer. And he thought she was beautiful.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE next few hours were hectically busy for Jenessa. She drove straight home and told Ryan about the proposed trip to the property that George Hilchey had owned. As Ryan raised bushy white brows, she warned, ‘I don’t want to talk about it and I swear if you so much as breathe a word to Finn about my connection with that land I’ll move out and I’ll never come back.’
This was indeed a dire threat. Ryan solemnly ran a dirty finger across his throat and said, ‘You want me to load up the two backpacks?’
‘That’d be a great help. Water tablets, flashlights, tents, tarp... you know what we need, Ryan. The food’s going to take a bit of organizing; I’ll head out to the grocery store after I call Mac.’
She got through on the radio-phone to Caribou Lodge on the first try. ‘Mac? Jenessa Reed here. I’ll be arriving at the lodge around five-thirty today with a man called Finn Marston; can you put him up for a couple of nights?’
There was a fractional pause. ‘So he hired you, did he? I didn’t have a guide free.’
She knew Mac well; beneath the innocuous words he was angry. ‘As you’ve already spoken to him, then you know what he wants,’ she said calmly. ‘We’ll be canoeing to the old Hilchey place, but I’ll want to be around the lodge for two or three days first; he’s never been in a canoe before. Any problem with that?’
‘He can have a room in the lodge. You can go in the guides’ cabin.’
‘We can rent a canoe?’
‘A seventeen-foot wood and canvas.’
‘Great. We’ll bring our own food and gear. Thanks, Mac.’
‘See you,’ he grunted.
Mac didn’t want them there. She’d bet her bottom dollar on it. More undercurrents, Jenessa thought, and for the life of her couldn’t understand what they might be. Yes, she’d turned Mac down two years ago. But they’d met since then and he’d been at his most charming, as though to show her that he couldn’t care less. Frowning, she started on the grocery list.
At quarter to four she stuffed the last pair of clean socks into one of the side-pockets of her backpack. Ryan had already loaded Finn’s into the van; although she hadn’t had the time to check its contents, Ryan had been packing for long trips most of his life and wouldn’t be likely to have forgotten anything. Paddles, life-vests, the Duluth packs with the food... they were all in the van, too.
‘Move it, Jenny,’ Ryan hollered.
She swung the pack on her back and hurried outside, and they arrived at the motel at five to four. Finn was standing outside, his duffel bag and haversack at his feet. He put his gear in the back where Ryan was sitting and sat in the front beside Jenessa. ‘We’re late,’ he said.
‘The helicopter won’t go without us,’ she responded evenly, and swung out into the traffic.
When they got to the hangar, the oil-company helicopter was parked on the tarmac. Jenessa had met the pilot before, a man in his forties by the name of Wally. She introduced Finn and they started loading gear in the helicopter. Crouched in the rear, she said, ‘Could you pass up those two canvas bags, Finn? Careful, they’re heavy; they’ve got all our food.’
Finn grasped the leather handles of the first bag, levering it up to the level of the helicopter floor. Jenessa leaned forward to take it from him, and as he gave a final heave saw him gasp with pain, his features contorted. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked in quick concern.
He shoved the pack toward her, not meeting her eyes. ‘Yeah... out of shape, that’s all.’
He didn’t look like a man who was out of shape. But she swallowed any other questions because Wally had begun his pre-flight check and they were already late. Carefully she leaned her cherrywood paddle against the pile of packs and jumped down to the ground. ‘That’s it—let’s go.’
Ryan gave her a light punch on the arm and said gruffly, ‘Stay away from souse holes, won’t ya?’
Jenessa grinned at him. ‘Finish the wallpapering while I’m gone.’
She climbed into the back seat and strapped herself in. As Finn eased himself into the passenger seat, twisting his body in the confined space, another spasm of pain tightened his features. If there was something wrong, she thought grimly, he should have told her. She had first-aid training, but there were no doctors where they were going.
Within minutes they lifted off the ground. As the houses diminished beneath them, she adjusted her headset, amused to hear Wally, as much as he was capable of being deferential, deferring to Finn. Whatever Finn did, it must be big league; helicopters, as well she knew, didn’t come cheap and helicopter pilots were notorious for their independence. Then she saw Finn unfold his map. ‘Can you fly me over this island, Wally?’ he asked. ‘There should be an old house on it.’
‘Sure thing,’ Wally said easily. ‘The boss told me to take you wherever you wanted to go.’
Jenessa didn’t want to fly over the Hilchey land. She had counted on entering it gradually, adjusting day by day to the landscape she loved. Biting her lip, she watched as the town and the grey ribbon of highway dropped away behind them, to be replaced by the dense green of trees and the paler green of the barrens. Within half an hour they had reached Caribou Lodge, its tall windows bouncing back the sun’s glare. Wally followed the twisting course of the river south, pointing out the lakes and ponds to Finn. Her eyes glued to the window, Jenessa saw the white patch of Osprey Falls and the meandering trail of Beothuck Brook with its groves of silvertrunked birches. She had caught her first trout in that brook, and had swum with her father in the pool below the falls, the cold water making her skin tingle... Juniper Lake, Little Bog Pond, Cranberry Lake—one by one they slipped below her. Then, in the distance, the cove on Spruce Pond glittered in the sunlight.
She was too far away to pick out the cabin where she had grown up. To her horror her eyes crowded with tears, blurring the landscape into an impressionistic haze of blues and greens.
Finn turned in his seat. ‘Jenessa, do you—what’s wrong?’
Wally, too, glanced over his shoulder. Wishing both of them a thousand miles away, swiping away the tear that had trickled down her cheek, she choked, ‘Nothing.’
Finn’s eyes bored into hers. He knew she was lying. But he’d wait for an explanation, she thought uneasily. Wait as a hunter must wait. He said brusquely, ‘Can you pick out the house if we go over it?’
She nodded, fighting back emotions as keenly felt now as they had been when she was thirteen. She’d been a fool to agree to this, an utter fool.
Blinking
