The endearment went through her like lightning. She didn’t dare let him see her eyes. “Let me go, please,” she said, and tugged gently at her hand.
He released her with reluctance, watching her as she went back to her own chair and sat down. He no longer had any doubts about her reaction to him. He wrapped his lean hands around his cup and flexed his shoulders, strained from hours in the saddle and back-breaking work as they threw calves to brand them.
“How’s Dwight?” he asked after a minute.
“He’s doing very well,” she replied. “He’s still in a lot of pain, of course. Winnie’s sitting with him right now. Marie’s gone to a movie.”
“I haven’t said it, but I appreciate having you stay with him. Especially under the circumstances.”
She sipped her tea quietly, darting a quick glance up at him. He was watching her with steady, narrow, unblinking eyes. She averted her gaze to her cup again.
“I’m doing it for Winnie,” she said finally.
“That goes without saying.” He put his cup down and folded his arms over his chest. “How long will it take, do you think, before he’s on his feet again?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “You’d have to ask the doctor about that.”
He watched the steam rise from his mug, not really seeing it. He’d driven himself hard today, trying not to think about Allison and what he’d done. But it hadn’t worked. Here she was, and sitting with her was the first peace he’d known all day. She had a calming effect on him. She made him feel at ease with himself and the world around him. It was a feeling he’d never known before. His emotions had gone wild with Hank Nelson’s death and the subsequent revelations about his past.
He thought about his real father and the shame it would bring on him to have people know what kind of parent he’d had. But the sting of that knowledge seemed to have lessened. Now he could look at Allison and none of the anguish he’d known seemed to matter anymore. All he could think about was how it had been with her during the time they’d spent together, her softness in his arms, her gentle voice full of compassion and warmth. But he’d killed all that. He’d reduced what they were building together into a feverish sexual fling, without meaning or purpose. That was how she was bound to see it, and it wasn’t true. He’d used women before, of course he had, but Allison wasn’t an interlude. She was...everything.
He looked at her with soft wonder. She couldn’t know how she’d changed him. She probably wouldn’t care, even if she knew it. The more he saw of her, the more he realized how genuinely kind she was. He’d never met a woman like her. He knew he never would again.
“I’ve been a fool about my family, Allison,” he said suddenly, his dark brows knitted together as he stared at her. “I think I went mad when I found out how I’d been lied to all these years. Hurt pride, arrogance, I don’t know. Whatever it was, I’ve just come to my senses.”
“I’m glad about that,” she replied. “You have a nice family. They shouldn’t have to pay for things they never did.”
“I’ve come to that conclusion myself.” He picked up the cup, but didn’t drink from it. “Are you going to be able to forgive what I’ve done to you?” he asked suddenly.
Her heart jumped at the question. But in all fairness, she couldn’t let him take all the blame. Nobody held a gun on her and made her do it, she knew. That one lapse could have cost her her career as a missionary if anyone had found out about it, but she couldn’t have blamed him totally even then. She was pretty lucky that they hadn’t been seen at that line cabin, she supposed. “You didn’t do anything that I didn’t invite,” she said dully. “It doesn’t matter.”
Her reply caught him on the raw. “You might have my child inside your body, and it doesn’t matter?” he asked icily.
She flushed. “It isn’t likely,” she said stubbornly.
He set the mug down again and his chest rose and fell roughly. Even now she wouldn’t put all the blame on him. His lean hand speared across the table and gently slid into hers, holding it warmly. “I’m sorry I made it into something you’d rather not remember,” he said solemnly. “It shouldn’t have been like that, your first time. The least a man owes a virgin is satisfaction. All I gave you was pain.”
She colored furiously and drew back her hand. “I have to get back to Dwight,” she said huskily. “Good night, Gene.”
She stood, but so did he, moving around the table so fast that she didn’t see him coming until he had her gently by the shoulders, his tall, fit body looming over her.
“Do you hate me?” he asked abruptly. “No subterfuge, no half-truths. I need to know.”
She swallowed. “No. I...don’t hate you.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Thank God.” He bent and brushed his mouth over her eyelids, closing them with aching tenderness. His hands held her, but not in any confining way, and he didn’t move a fraction of an inch closer or threaten her mouth with his lips.
“Good night, little one,” he said softly, lifting his head. There was something new in his eyes, in his voice, in the way he touched her. He knew it and was stunned by it. Women came and went in his life, but this one spun a cocoon of love around him and made him whole. He wanted her as he’d never wanted anything else. But it wasn’t going to be easy.
