Page 11

She grabbed it, and he slipped his arms beneath the dog.

He ignored the pain shooting through his back as he strained to lift the heavy beast. With the darkness closing in around them, they walked in silence to the house, his boots breaking dried twigs, her feet scattering the fragile leaves that had died last autumn.

“Will you bury him near the garden? That’s where he liked to dig,” she said quietly as they neared the house.

“Sure will. You got a shovel?”

“In the barn.”

“I’ll get it. Why don’t you go inside and wash up?”

Nodding, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of the dog’s head. “Bye, Digger.”

Austin watched her run to the front of the house, leaving him feeling useless. Giving comfort had never been his strong suit, was something he hadn’t even known existed until Amelia had come into their lives.

He laid the dog on the ground. He walked to the quilt where he had shared a few peaceful moments with Loree.

In her rush to get to the dog, she’d knocked over the bowl, spilling sugar over the quilt.

Ants were having a picnic. Austin picked up the bowl and shook out the rest of the sugar, wishing he knew how to ease Loree’s grief as easily.

Loree had lit a lamp to ward off the darkness and the constant fears that surrounded her.

She had warmed a bucket of water, removed her bloodstained clothes, bundled them up, and shoved them into a corner of her bedroom.

Now she stood before her dresser, stripped to the waist, wearing nothing but her linen drawers, scrubbing, scrubbing the blood from her chest, her hands, her arms. So much blood.

She lifted her gaze to the mirror and caught the reflection of Austin Leigh standing in her doorway, watching her with an intensity in his gaze that she thought might have frightened her under ordinary circumstances.

But tonight wasn’t ordinary. She’d just had the last bit of love she’d ever known torn from her life. She turned to face the man who had given her beloved Digger a final resting place. “I can’t get his blood off.”

She watched his throat muscles work as he swallowed, saw his hands clench and unclench before he quietly walked across the room in bare feet. In a distant part of her mind, she realized he must have left his soiled boots outside.

In silence, he took the cloth from her hand, dipped it into the bucket of water, wrung it out, and gently, slowly wiped the cloth over her face, his deep blue gaze touching her as sunshine greeted the dawn, warming her when only moments before she’d been chilled.

He wiped her throat, her shoulders, and brought the cloth lower. He touched his thumb to the scar just above her left breast. “Is this where he shot you?” he asked hoarsely.

She could do little more than nod, knowing he needed no answer as his mouth replaced his thumb.

“How could he have hurt you?”

Another question for which she had no answer. She felt him tremble as his knuckles skimmed the inside swell of her breast. He shook his head slightly.

“There’s no more blood,” he rasped as he stepped back.

She grabbed his hand. “There’s blood on you.”

He glanced down at his shirt. Of their own accord, her fingers began to undo his buttons.

She heard his breath hitch. She had never been so bold, never bared her body to a man.

The embarrassment she had anticipated was drowned out by need.

A need she didn’t fully understand, but knew existed because it beckoned to her from the farthest reaches of her heart and soul.

She removed his shirt and bloodstained bandage. Taking the cloth from his hand, she wiped it across his chest even though she saw no blood.

With one roughened palm, he cradled her cheek and tilted her face until their gazes met and held. She heard his uneven breathing. Beneath the hand she had rested on his chest, she felt the rapid, steady pounding of his heart.

She had long ago accepted the fact that she would live out the remaining days of her life alone. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the scent, sight, sounds, and touch created by another person. She thought she had effectively warded off the loneliness.

Now, she knew it had only been in hiding, gathering strength, waiting until her defenses were down to attack.

All the days of silence and nights alone suddenly loomed before her.

A lifetime’s worth. And she hated them. She hated every one of them and the man whose actions had condemned her to the loneliness.

She suddenly felt plain and poor, longing for things she would never know: a husband’s smile, the laughter of children.

Austin’s gaze drifted to her lips, the blue of his eyes darkening until she felt the warmth of a fire, burning hot and bright, creating even as it consumed. He lowered his head slightly and her lips parted.

“So sweet,” he whispered, and she wondered if within the words, she heard an apology.

Then his mouth was pressed against hers, warm, soft, moist, and she had her first taste of a man. Deep inside, she smiled. He tasted of strawberries.

Then he deepened the kiss, and when his tongue sought hers, she raised up onto the tips of her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave to him all that he asked.

He groaned deep within his throat and she felt the rumble of his chest against her breasts. His arm snaked around her, pressing her closer against his body.

She had never been wanton, but then the loneliness had never been this great, this consuming.

Nor had the need to be held, to be loved been so strong.

She did not delude herself. He did not love her.

In his eyes, she had seen the stark loneliness that mirrored hers.

They were kindred hearts with a haunting past that had stolen dreams. Still, he would leave and never look back.

And with that thought, she found comfort.

She could accept what he offered, knowing that he would never discover the secrets that the killer had forced her to lock away.

Austin Leigh would never look upon her with revulsion.

Years from now, when she brought forth the memories of this man, she would only see the desire that deepened the blue of his eyes.

His mouth trailed along her throat, pressed kisses against the sensitive flesh below her ear. “So sweet,” he repeated in a ragged breath, like a litany that stirred his actions.

He guided her to the bed, skimming her remaining clothes from her body before laying her down. Holding her gaze, he slowly unbuttoned his trousers as though giving her time to tell him that what he was offering wasn’t what she wanted.

But she did want, more than she had ever wanted, to be without the loneliness.

When he stretched his tall lean body alongside hers, she’d never felt so tiny, so delicate.

He cupped her breast, his hand shaping and molding her flesh as his mouth teased and taunted.

Desire spiraled through her, strong enough to send the loneliness into oblivion.

For one night, she would have what she might never have again: a man’s touch, a man’s whispered words, a man’s strength and ability to hold the loneliness at bay.

His mouth came down on hers, hard, devouring, but his hands remained gentle, as though she were shaped from hand-blown glass. She trailed her hands over the firm muscles of his shoulders, digging her fingers into his back, careful to avoid the wound that had forged a bond between them.

When his hand skimmed along her stomach, she shivered. When he touched her intimately, she gasped as his fingers made promises she knew his body would keep.

He moved until his hips were nestled between her thighs.

Then slowly, cautiously, he joined his body to hers.

The pain was fleeting, the fullness of him satisfying.

As he rocked against her, the past blurred into insignificance, the future that awaited her lost its importance.

All that mattered was this moment, this joining.

Sensations she’d never known existed wove themselves around her, through her, creating beauty where she’d only known ugliness.

She reveled in the sound of his throaty groans, the feel of his sure, swift thrusts.

And then she cried out, arching beneath him as everything spilled over into ecstasy.

As he shuddered above her, she heard a name whisper raggedly past his lips. Suddenly all that had passed before meant nothing … and the loneliness increased tenfold.

Austin stilled, his breathing labored, sweat glistening over his trembling body, self-loathing and guilt increasing as he felt Loree stiffen beneath him.

Ironically, he’d held no thoughts of Becky until her name escaped his lips, but he didn’t think it would soothe Loree’s hurt if he told her that.

As a matter of fact, he could think of nothing to say, nothing to do that would ease the pain he’d caused her—and hurting her was the last thing he’d intended.

He eased off her. She rolled to her side, presenting him with her back, drawing her knees toward her chest. Reaching down, he pulled up a blanket and covered her.

He got out of bed, snatched up his britches, jerked them on, and headed outside.

He stormed to the corral and slammed the palm of his hand against the post. The sound of vibrating wood echoed around him.

He hit the post again and again. He would have kicked it if he’d thought to pull on his boots.

He dug his fingers into the top railing of the corral, squeezed his eyes shut, and bowed his head.

He could argue that he’d been too long without a woman, but the argument would have been rift with lies because he knew that if he had lain with a woman that afternoon, he still would have wanted Loree tonight.

She was so incredibly sweet, pure, and innocent …

all the delightful aspects of youth that a man lost as he grew older.

When he had kissed her, felt the tentative touch of her tongue, he was the man he had been before prison.

A man who believed in goodness. She had touched the tender part of himself that he’d locked away in solitary confinement in order to survive within prison walls.

With her arms circling his neck, she had sent his good intentions to perdition and unleashed desires and needs that he’d kept tightly reined.

And for those few moments of splendor, when he had held her close, the loneliness that always ate at his soul had ceased to feast.

Until he had carelessly whispered another’s name.

Then the loneliness had consumed him once again and invited guilt to the banquet.

He slammed his palm against the post. Why in the hell had Becky’s name escaped his lips?

She hadn’t been in his thoughts. Hell, he hadn’t been thinking at all.

He’d just been feeling, feeling with an intensity he hadn’t experienced in years.

Maybe that was the reason he’d spoken her name.

He’d always associated deeply held emotion with Becky.

And that sure as hell hadn’t been fair to Loree.

He might have been able to forgive himself if he had something to offer her—but he had nothing. What woman would want to marry a man fresh out of prison? A man who couldn’t prove his innocence?

He had no job, no prospects.

Within his mind, he saw her golden eyes filled with trust. She had wanted the comfort he had to offer, and in taking it, she had given it back.

He’d never wanted to taste anything as much as he’d wanted to taste her, to touch as much as he’d wanted to touch her, to know …

He found it impossible to believe so little time had passed since he’d first set eyes on her.

Again, he slammed his palm against the post. A delicate hand covered his as it gripped the pillar.

“You’re gonna bust your hand if you’re not careful,” she said quietly.

Austin’s heart thundered so loudly that he barely heard the crickets chirping. Loree stood in the pale moonlight, her gaze watchful. She’d slipped into a nightgown and draped a blanket over her shoulders.

“Can’t see that it would be any great loss.”

She took his hand, turned it, and pressed a kiss to his palm. “I disagree.”

“Loree—”

“It’s all right. I was thinking of someone else as well.”

Her words sliced across his heart like a well-honed knife cutting deeply, the pain taking him off guard. He knew he deserved them, knew she had every right to say them, but he didn’t like hearing them. “Who were you thinking of?”

She angled her chin defiantly. “Jake.”

He heard the slightest hesitation in her voice and knew beyond any doubt that she was lying. Whether she was hoping to hurt him or salvage her pride, it didn’t matter. He’d give her back what he could.

“Then he’s a damn lucky man,” he said, surprised by the roughness in his voice.

She dropped her gaze to her bare feet. “Anyway, there’s no reason for you to sleep out here. The barn is probably still damp.”

Even now, after he’d hurt her, she was still more worried about him than herself. “Sleep doesn’t come easy for me.”

“For me either.”

He tilted up her face, and with his thumb, he wiped a glistening tear from the corner of her eye. “We’re a fine pair, aren’t we?”

She gave him a hesitant smile and nodded. He cupped her cheek and lowered his mouth to hers, imparting with his kiss the apology she wouldn’t accept in words. She swayed toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He trailed his lips along her throat until he reached the curve of her shoulder. “Loree, know that I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.”

He slipped his arm beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms. Cradling her close, he carried her into the house. With his foot, he closed the door behind him and walked into the bedroom.

Carefully, he laid her on the bed. She curled on her side, and he draped the blanket over her.

He walked to the other side of the bed. Without removing his trousers, he lay on top of the covers and wrapped his arm around her.

She stiffened. He pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“I’m just going to hold you, Loree. Believe it or not, that’s all I’d intended to do when I came into the house looking for you earlier. ”

He heard her muffled sob and tightened his arms around her. Another sob came. Gingerly, he turned her toward him. “Come here, Sugar.”

She rolled into the circle of his arms and pressed her face against his chest. Her warm tears dampened his flesh.

“I’m sorry, Loree. I’m so sorry.”

Her sobs grew louder, her tears flowed more freely, and he could do little more than hold her closely, knowing he was the cause of her heartache.