Page 52 of The Formation of Us

She stood behind him, slathering an herb-scented oil over his shoulders and back. “I can do this better when you’re lying down.”

They could do a lot of things better if they were both lying down, but he clamped his mouth shut and stretched out on the towels she’d spread on the table. They were both silent, listening to the condensation drip off the water faucet while she massaged the muscles in his neck and shoulders. Sighing, he forced his thoughts from all the sensual ways he wanted to hold and kiss her, and remembered Adam’s scuffle with the Archer children last week. He debated telling her. She had more worries than she deserved, but she was Adam’s guardian and should be aware of a situation that could grow worse if not dealt with.

“Has Adam mentioned having any trouble at school?” he asked, hoping the boy had told her.

Her fingers clamped on his shoulders. “No. Why?”

“It seems he got in a scuffle with a couple other children last week.” Duke pushed to his elbows and turned so he could see her. “One of those men I was talking with after church this morning was Ike MacEnroy, Adam’s teacher. MacEnroy broke up a commotion in the school yard last Monday, and said Adam was disrespectful to him.”

“He’s never been disrespectful to anyone, including me.”

“I’m repeating what MacEnroy told me,” he said. “He didn’t seem that upset over the incident, and I suspect the man admires Adam’s intelligence. Archer was the one demanding that I punish Adam for attacking his children, Melissa and Nicholas.” Faith gasped. “Adam would never attack a person unless they were threatening to harm one of us.”

Duke couldn’t picture Adam attacking anyone either. Especially if unprovoked. Those scratch marks on Nicholas’s neck didn’t come from Adam. “Archer’s story is one-sided. Since Adam hasn’t told you about this, don’t mention it to him just yet. I want to confirm the story with my niece Rebecca, who was also involved, then I’ll talk to Adam.”

Faith leaned her hip against the table. “So this is why Adam avoided you today” She buried her face in her hands. “What next? I can’t handle another problem.”

She looked exhausted. And scared. Duke pushed to his hip and swung his legs off the table so he was sitting. He put his arms around her and made her sit beside him. “Let me handle it with Adam. I’ll be fair. You know that.”

She sighed and lowered her forehead to his shoulder. “I could get used to having you around.”

And he could get used to holding her in his arms. He liked the feel of her body against him, the warmth of her breath on his bare chest. He stroked his fingertips over her back, and she melted against him. He knew how good it felt to have the tension rubbed from his sore body, and he wanted to give her that pleasure. With light pressure, he kneaded the muscles in her neck and down between her shoulder blades.

“Mmm . . . that’s nice,” she said, relaxing her breasts into his chest, and sending a firebolt of lust burning through him. He could make her feel so much better if she would get in that tub with him, if she would let him make love to her.

He wanted to keep her in his arms, but she deserved better than his selfish fondling. “Lie down and let me rub your back.”

“I’m supposed to be doing that for you right now,” she said, her voice so slow and dreamy it kicked his lust up another notch.

“But you need it more than I do.” He kissed her forehead. “Lie down.”

“I won’t get back up if I do.”

It was easy to angle his shoulders and pull her down onto the table with him. He lay on his back on the cool wood, with her lying on her side, half on his stomach, staring down at him with shock in her eyes. She braced her hand on his bare chest.

“What are you doing?”

“Making it easier to rub your back,” he answered, demonstrating by rubbing his palm down her spine.

She lay against him, her knee braced on his thigh, her breasts pressed to his chest, her mouth inches from his, and her eyes full of suspicion. “I think you’re taking liberties with me because I let you kiss me.”

Her accusation stung. “I think someone in your past made you distrustful of men, and I’d like to beat the heck out of whoever did it. I won’t deny having a hundred thoughts about making love to you on this table and in that bathtub, but I won’t force you into anything, Faith. Not ever.”

She perched against his side, looking ready to bolt.

“You’re fully clothed, and so am I in every way that counts.”

“We’re not married.”

“We’re courting.”

“And unchaperoned.”

“A widow doesn’t need a chaperone,” he countered.

“Because she knows where this situation can take her.”

“It won’t.” He held her chin and forced her to look in his eyes. “You can trust me.”