Rawley figured Dallas had beaten the man to within an inch of his life—if he hadn’t outright killed him.
“I’m sorry, Faith, sorry for what happened, sorry I wasn’t here for you.”
“You didn’t know what Cole would do any more than I did. Still, I feel such a fool because I did fall for him.”
“You’re not a fool, Faith. Men like him are good at disguising what they are.”
She twisted around slightly. “If he wanted me so badly—”
“It’s not about want or desire. It’s about control or dominance... or just downright meanness. Some people take pleasure in hurting others. I don’t know why, but I do know what he did wasn’t your fault.” As he spoke the words, he was struck with how accurately they applied to him as well. He hadn’t been to blame for what had happened to him all those years ago, any more than she was to blame for what had happened to her. Never before had he seen the truth of his circumstance so clearly.
Cradling her cheek, he held her shadowed gaze, saw the trail of tears glistening on her cheeks, gathered them up with soft strokes of his thumb. “Every time I think you’re the strongest woman I know, you prove to be stronger than I realized.”
“Knowing he touched me, I don’t know how you can.”
“Because he’s nothing and you’re everything.” Taking his time, not wanting to spook her, he eased in until he could tenderly brush his lips over hers. She humbled him with her courage.
With a sigh, she snuck her arms around his neck and parted her lips, and he took what she offered as gently as he knew how, showing her with each restrained, slow stroke of his tongue, every caress along the length of her back, how precious she was to him. When she shuddered against him, he trailed his mouth along the creamy column of her throat, offering solace as she dropped her head back, giving him easier access. He followed a lazy path to the shell of her ear, outlined it with the tip of his tongue, felt the shiver course through her.
“Better than my birthday,” she whispered.
Easing away, he held her gaze. “I want to offer you more, Faith, but I don’t know if you’re ready for it.”
She shook her head. “But I’m getting there.”
Straightening, she snuggled her back against his chest and he closed his arms around her. They sat in silence for long minutes, listening to the gurgling of the river, the chirping of the crickets, the croaking of the frogs.
“Are you going to leave again, Rawley?” she finally asked.
“Not if you don’t want me to.”
She merely nodded, and he knew in his heart he was there to stay.
She’d never planned to tell him, yet having told him, it was as though a great weight had been lifted. She didn’t know how long they simply sat there, but it was comforting to have his arms around her, to feel his warmth surround her. Although it was August and hot, a coldness had seeped into her bones when the memories bombarded her, a coldness his kiss had obliterated. Unlike the one before, this one had been tame. Like the one before, it had him on a tight leash. She’d felt the tremors coursing through him as he held his needs at bay. He’d handed the reins over to her, allowing her to determine the depth, the direction, the pace their joined mouths would follow.
Eventually she slipped her pants, shirt, and boots on, wrapped a quilt around her shoulders, and they began walking toward the cabin. Without a word, he took her hand. She squeezed it as she brushed her shoulder against his. The familiarity of him was reassuring in its intensity.
When they reached the cabin, he said, “I don’t want to leave, Faith. Memories were stirred up tonight, and I know how vivid they can be in sleep. I want to be here for you in case you have a nightmare, need comforting. I can bunk down in Callie’s bed.”
She’d never been all by herself through the night. Until she and Callie moved into the cabin, she’d lived in her parents’ home. Always there was another presence. Although earlier she’d welcomed the peace, suddenly she didn’t want to be alone. “I’d like that.”
While he tended to his horse, she went inside, put away the quilts and what was left of the whiskey. She wasn’t drunk, far from it, but she was a little more relaxed.
When he walked inside, the entire place seemed to shrink with his presence. He filled the room, but not in an intimidating way. He was simply bold and confident, a man who could be tough one minute, gentle the next. She tilted her head toward Callie’s room. With a nod, he strode into it. She followed and leaned against the doorjamb.
With a sigh, he bowed his head. If she had it within her at that moment, she would have laughed. Instead she simply smiled. Her daughter’s bed wasn’t much bigger than Callie was.
Without turning around, he glanced at Faith over his shoulder, a wry grin marking his features. “I reckon it’ll be the sofa.”
She bit her bottom lip, shook her head. “My bed.”
He did turn then. “Faith—”
“Just hold me. I need that.”
He nodded. “All right.”
Her smile grew. Always a man of too few words.
