Читать книгу The Loner And The Lady - Eileen Wilks, Eileen Wilks - Страница 11

In the morning after breakfast, Seth excused himself to go up on the roof and check out possible storm damage since, he said, the radio had reported the passing of the storm cell that had dumped all that rain on them. His guest managed not to comment on the foolishness of a man with a bad leg climbing around on the roof. At least he didn’t seem to be limping today.

She took advantage of his absence to check something else out.

“Sophie.” She said the name out loud, weighing it on her tongue. She smiled. “Sophie,” she said again. A friendly name. Comfortable.

Her hand went to the delicate chain around her throat and the locket suspended there, with that name engraved in flowing script. She liked the feel of the dainty necklace, liked that one tangible link with her past.

Surely “Sophie” was a diminutive of some other, longer name. “Sophronia?” She had to smile at that one. Surely not. “Sophia,” she tried, but the name sounded heavy and formal, and she couldn’t summon any recognition.

She felt decidedly ambivalent about her name hunt. Part of her wanted to know. Part wanted to hide, wanted to lie here in Seth’s bed where she felt safe and curiously free.

A loud clatter overhead recalled her to what she was supposed to be doing, and she started unbuttoning the shirt she’d slept in. Seth’s trip to his roof gave her privacy to change into another of his shirts and the pair of panties that he’d washed out for her.

Why did she find the idea of Seth washing her panties more embarrassing than the idea of Seth washing her?

Sophie sighed as she drew the blue cotton down her arm. It was a nice arm, she thought. A little scrawny, maybe. Pausing with the shirt half off, half on, she made a muscle and giggled at her nonexistent biceps.

Apparently she was not into bodybuilding.

She glanced up. Continued sounds reassured her that Seth was still busy with his roof. In the bath last night she’d been so aware of Seth looking—or studiously not looking, at first—that she hadn’t especially taken note of her body herself.

Sophie slipped the shirt all the way off and looked.

Her breasts were small. Her nipples were rather large, a sort of blushy tan color, but. the breasts themselves were definitely on the small side. Oh, well. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about sagging when she got older.

She frowned. Someone had said that to her. Someone, a woman quite a bit older, when Sophie was…was…but the thought trailed into a wisp. Vapor.

Maybe she was already “older.” What an unsettling idea!

She stretched a leg out. She had pretty good muscle definition in her legs, she thought, but that didn’t give her much of a clue as to her age. A dedicated runner or aerobics teacher might stay fit and firm well into her forties.

“I don’t want to be forty,” she muttered. She wasn’t supposed to be forty. She was—well, she didn’t know, but surely not forty.

She had to smile at herself. How absurd. She was more upset at the possibility of having passed her fortieth birthday than at her missing memories. Did she know on some level that she wasn’t that old yet? Or was she feeling a purely human resentment at the passing of years?

She managed to squirm into her panties without making her head explode, and the bit of throbbing the movement excited eased off quickly. Pleased, she studied both legs.

Well, she thought, flexing one knee, she did have rather nice legs, whatever her age was. Her thighs were firm, and her calves…she ran a hand up from the ankle, and grimaced. Good muscle definition, but bristly. Maybe she could borrow Seth’s razor later.

Or maybe she could borrow it now.

She glanced guiltily at the roof. She really shouldn’t borrow his things without permission, but if she asked he’d probably insist on carrying her. She wasn’t sure if the injury to his leg was temporary or permanent, but she didn’t want his overly developed sense of chivalry making him hurt himself. Besides, she needed to be alone. It wasn’t just a razor she wanted to find in the bathroom.

She needed a mirror.

She swung her legs off the bed. If she took it slow, she reasoned, walking to the bathroom shouldn’t be too hard. Her head was much better today.

She scooted to the edge of the mattress and stood. The room moved.

It was a strange sensation. She clasped her hand to her head as if she could stop the slow gyrations of the room by clutching her head. Maybe it worked. After a moment, the world did steady itself and she started moving.

Her legs were mushy. Spaghetti al dente. She decided it would be wise to have something to hang on to, and swerved to take advantage of the furniture that lay between her and her goal. She paused to catch her breath, gripping the back of the couch where Seth had slept last night. Ridiculous to be all winded from such a tiny bit of exertion, but the room chose that moment to do its dance again. Black fluttered at the edges of her vision while the floor stood itself up on end and smacked itself against her outstretched hand, then knocked the breath from her lungs.

“Sophie!”

She didn’t think she passed out again, but there didn’t seem to be any time between hearing Seth cry out her name from the doorway and feeling him gather her up tenderly against him. Cursing her the whole time.

“…what the hell you thought you were doing? Of all the fool ideas—does that hurt?” He ran his hand up her legs. “You’re a complete idiot, you know that?” He gently eased her head back against his shoulder to study her face intently. “Your pupils look the same,” he muttered.

She wished he’d go back to touching her legs. The shivery sensation she’d had when his hands skimmed up her bare calves was fading. But this position had possibilities, too. His dark hair was tied back, emphasizing the elegance of the bones that underlay both sides of his face, the smooth and the damaged. His face was so near, with her head pillowed on his shoulder. He’d hardly have to move at all to…

To kiss her. Seth couldn’t believe he was thinking about kissing her when one minute ago she’d nearly killed herself, toppling over just as he came inside. Lord, but he’d probably lost five years off his life. She’d scared him that badly. But right now her body was warm and soft against him and her lips were so near, gently rosy and curved up in that smile of hers, as if she knew what he was thinking and liked it, liked the idea of his mouth on hers. Her eyes had the slumberous look of a woman who wanted a man.

The thought that she might actually want him jolted through his body, making him instantly hard and throbbing.

Her hand crept beneath his hair to the back of his heck, where her fingertips skimmed a hesitant circle.

His body responded to the uncertain caress with pure, ravenous hunger. “Good Lord,” he breathed, and jerked back.

She blinked, but if his sudden rejection stung it didn’t show. Unless the huskiness in her voice came from hurt feelings instead of arousal. “That was really weird,” she said. “The room went haywire on me all of a sudden.”

“Try ‘stupid’ instead of ‘weird.’” He shifted her so he could stand. “Didn’t you know I would help you if you needed to use the bathroom?” He interrupted his scolding to grunt as he stood, bringing her up with him.

“Oh, Seth, don’t. Your leg-”

Great. She’d noticed him limping. “It’s fine. Now, do you need to go to the bathroom?”

She ignored his question. “I’m fine, too. Or almost fine, anyway. I can walk. You might have to help me a bit, but I can walk.”

He obviously shouldn’t have given in to her pleas that morning to be allowed to make it into the bathroom on her own two feet. It had given her delusions of health. “You are one damn fool woman. Now which do you want—back to bed, or to the bathroom?”

She sighed. “Bed.”

Sitting with her on the bed was easier on his knee than bending to lay her down. He certainly didn’t do it because the trusting warmth of her body, or the arms she’d wrapped around his neck as he carried her, were already dear to him. Desire was understandable. Predictable, under the circumstances. “Dear” was—well, ridiculous.

“Why were you up?” he asked, scowling. She sat right up against his thigh, much too close. He’d have to move, in just a second. “If you didn’t need the bathroom, why were you heading that way?”

Her teeth gnawed on her lower lip. She looked away. “I wanted to borrow your razor.”

He stared. “You wanted to what?” He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe she’d risked herself over something so trivial. “How could you be so stupid? And if you absolutely had to shave your legs, why didn’t you wait until I came back in so I could help you?”

“Because I didn’t want you to help me! Because—” Now she turned her face to him. Her eyes glistened like rainsoaked grass. “Because I wanted to find a mirror. I don’t know what I look like, Seth, and I wanted—I wanted to be by myself when I found out. I don’t know why.”

Oh, Lord. He ran his hand through his hair.

She didn’t know what she looked like. What an idiot he was, not to have realized she’d need to see her face. “There’s no mirror in the bathroom.”

“But when you shave—”

“I don’t need a mirror to shave.” He didn’t need to look at her, either, when he talked to her. So he didn’t. “There’s a mirror in the pickup. I’ll take you out there. But I’ll let you be alone to look. I won’t intrude.”

“Seth,” she said, sounding as if she was about to cry. He felt like more of a fool than ever. He should have anticipated this. “Oh, Seth,” she said again, “do your scars bother you that much?”

His gaze jerked back to her.

Her lips trembled into a smile. “I’m sorry. I guess you don’t like to discuss it, but learning that you don’t have a mirror in your house, well…” She lifted her hand and touched him on the left side of his face.

He couldn’t move. He tried, he could have sworn he tried to move, but her fingers were kitten-soft. Then she moved. Drew closer. And brushed her lips across his cheek in a gentle kiss.

He carried her out to the pickup. As they crossed the porch, Rocky sighed a gusty canine sigh and heaved herself to her feet. She’d assigned herself two jobs when she moved in with Seth last month: chasing deer and rabbits away from his gardens, and accompanying him whenever he went outside. She obviously didn’t consider advanced pregnancy reason enough to shirk her duties.

Sophie gave him a hard time. She wanted to walk, but he pointed out how muddy the ground was, how she might slip, and how he was already carrying her and had no intention of putting her down, so she might as well quit being so bossy and relax.

“Me, bossy? You’ve got to be kidding. You’re the one who’s studying with the Terminator School of Nursing.”

She went on to explain to him exactly how bossy he was as he and the dog skirted the biggest puddle, and he nodded agreeably. Her fingers still clutched at his shirt too tightly, but the hint of panic fluttering around behind her eyes had eased off as soon as she started arguing.

He knew just how frightening it could be, having to face your image in a mirror for the first time. Of course, her situation wasn’t like his had been, but the fear might be similar.

He opened the pickup’s door and slid her onto the seat. “It’s dirty,” he said apologetically. “I use it to haul stuff.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Her tone was as absent as her straight-ahead gaze, and she still clutched his shirt.

“I’ll let you be alone now,” he said, and patted her hand to remind her that he couldn’t leave until she turned him loose.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said suddenly.

He waited.

“I don’t want you to leave me alone.” She looked at him. “Stay with me?”

In answer he gently scooted her over and sat down behind the steering wheel.

She took a deep breath, reached for the rearview mirror and angled it toward her.

Seth tried not to watch her. She might have changed her mind about doing this alone, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be staied at. He bent and scratched Rocky behind the ears, and he waited. But Sophie was quiet for so long he had to look.

She held her head tipped so she could study the left side of her face, where the scabbed-over scratches made ugly tracks. Her fingers traced those scabs anxiously.

“They’re pretty shallow,” he said gently. “It may take them awhile to fade completely, but they shouldn’t scar.”

Her head jerked toward him. “Seth, I didn’t mean to—”

“No one wants to be scarred. Especially not a beautiful woman.”

Her eyebrows went up in two surprised half circles as if she didn’t believe him when he called her beautiful. She shook her head slightly and looked back into the mirror. “I don’t think I’m forty yet, do you?”

“I don’t think you’re thirty yet,” he said dryly.

She sighed. “I guess I’m finished staring at myself.”

She was quiet while he carried her back inside, not chattering and smiling. He was sure he liked it better that way. If she’d stay quiet he could pretend she wasn’t here.

When he bent to set her back in the bed, her arms tightened around his neck briefly. And she did it again. Kissed him, right on his scarred cheek.

“Thank you, Seth,” she whispered, and turned him loose.

The next day Seth still felt that kiss. Both kisses.

Bright, blue-lit skies shone down on the scrub oaks that staggered up the slopes surrounding his small valley and the cabin he’d built after leaving the hospital almost two years ago. The radio weatherman said another front was moving in, but it was supposed to miss this area. The skies should be clear for days.

Sophie rebelled.

He’d managed to ignore her yesterday by working in the south garden and the drying shed for hours, something he’d needed to do anyway if he didn’t want his harvest to date of seeds to go to waste. She’d pestered him with questions last night. Not that he’d minded telling her about his gardens. They weren’t that big a deal, after all. The world wouldn’t be a different place if he did manage to breed a commercially useful Mexican persimmon. So what if he’d taken a few courses? It was just a hobby, like he told her.

Apparently Sophie had no intention of letting him ignore her that way today. The sun was bright, the sky was blue, and she wanted out.

At lunchtime Seth gave in. The blasted woman wasn’t going to stay still and rest, and he couldn’t have her scaring him again like she had yesterday. So he helped her out onto the porch, where they had sandwiches.

Of course, after they finished eating, she was still convinced she wasn’t sleepy.

Rocky lay on her scrap of blanket at the south end of the porch. Seth sat on one side of the old table he’d found in an abandoned shack near Ridgemore last year. Sophie sat on the other side in the big rocker he’d brought out for her, a pillow beneath her bottom and a smaller one behind her head. A quilt covered her legs, at his insistence. The scabbed-over stripes on her cheek faced him when she glanced at Rocky. This afternoon she wasn’t smiling at Seth. She was grinning.

And winning. “Gin,” she said, laying her cards down on the weathered table, where she had been trouncing Seth at cards for the past two hours.

Fool woman, getting all excited about a game of cards. He made a disgusted noise. “You’re an obnoxious winner. I should have insisted on Scrabble.”

“You didn’t want to take advantage of me,” she said smugly. “I have a head injury, after all. Scrabble might be too hard on me.” She tipped her head, trying to see the scores he was adding up. Sunlight tangled in the different shades of blond in her hair. “How much do you owe me now?”

“Sixty-seven thousand, five hundred dollars,” he said dryly. “But wait until you see the medical bill I’m sending you. I hope your insurance is paid up.”

“No problem.” Her smile tilted some before she got it straightened. “We’ve agreed I’m rolling in money, right? My clothes, my watch, all my possessions look pretty high dollar.” Her hand went to her throat, where the locket gleamed, golden. “Even if my insurance isn’t paid up, I’ll take care of my debts.”

Maybe she wasn’t as unfazed by her lack of memory as she seemed. She kept touching that locket. “I’ve got a clumsy tongue, haven’t I?”

“You can’t watch every word you say. Almost everything, I’m learning, has ends trailing back into the past.” She patted the cards into a neat stack. “My deal.”

“It’s been your deal since you grabbed that deck of cards out of my hand.”

“Yeah,” she said, her slow smile striking sparks in her green eyes. “But you’ll go on humoring me, because I’m convalescing.” She shuffled the cards, bridging their corners between her busy hands like a card shark, and began dealing. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about those big sticks you’ve stuck in the ground over there.” A bob of her head indicated the construction he’d begun on the level ground roughly south of the cabin.