“By manhandling me?” she snapped furiously and rubbed her arm for added emphasis.
“Besides, doesn’t that job fall to someone else now? You’re leaving. Remember?”
She turned from him, fixed her gaze out the window over the sink. Anger drained rapidly and she clutched the edge of the sink. She could not deny she already missed him though he had yet to leave. Just the knowledge of his departure clenched her heart and sparked fear for his life.
But she refused to admit it to him.
ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
46
Damien let out a ragged breath behind her. His hands settled on her shoulders, tightened for a moment, then turned gentle and comforting. He stood so close his breath stirred her hair and warmed her ear. Goosebumps erupted on her skin as need tightened her gut into knots. The heat of him spread through her, fanning the already raging flames of desire. She closed her eyes in self-denial. She knew what he wanted and struggled to find the strength to refuse herself as well as him. Fighting her heart’s treacherous inclinations, she moved away from him, her gaze riveted to the window.
“Talk to me.” The accompanying crack of thunder nearly stopped her heart but neatly punctuated his quiet command.
A single flash of lightening lit the clearing in stark black and white. Jolted, she curled her hands tightly around the edge of the counter.
“I have nothing to say. You’re leaving.” Putting that hard won but false calm in her voice cost her. All she wanted to do was cling to him and beg him to stay.
With another crack of thunder and a jagged flare of lightening, the storm raged on top of them. Wind-driven rain beat the glass panes. Her reflection wavered. Wind howled through the trees and the clearing. Windows rattled in the insane power of the storm. Damien’s arms slid around her. She flinched at the unexpected embrace, cringed at the heat that shot straight into her.
“Shhh,” he murmured in her ear. “It’s okay.”
The next explosion of thunder had her digging her fingers into his arms across her waist.
Her head reeled. Thunderstorm—it was only a thunderstorm. Damien held her, sheltered her.
The sudden bolt of lightening nearly blinded her. Abruptly, the room plunged into darkness.
Stunned, she blinked rapidly trying to get back her sight. She heard the furious storm and her own frantic heartbeat. She wasn’t blind. The storm had knocked out the generator.
“Shit,” she muttered, berating herself. “Paranoid—it’s only a storm.”
“Check on Stacy,” Damien suggested quietly in her ear as he reached past her to a drawer by the sink. “She might be scared. I’ll check everything else.”
With a shaky breath of relief, she pulled away from him. He grabbed a flashlight from the drawer, switched it on, and handed it to her. Pathetically grateful for the distraction, Laurie took the battery-powered light and carefully picked her way up to the loft. In the glow of the flashlight, she saw that Stacy slept peacefully. The storm had not disturbed her in the least.
Laurie pulled the blanket and the quilt to Stacy’s shoulders, tucked her favorite stuffed dog into her loose embrace, and then sat on the edge of the twin bed. The storm outside drew her unwilling gaze to the dark window. Thunder cracked again and lightening split the night. In the resulting spooky dark, the storm seemed a portent of things to come.
“Knock it off,” she ordered her wayward imagination. “Reign in your imagination.” Her voice was barely a whisper in the inky darkness.
She left the bed, turned, and gaped at the soft flickering glow from downstairs. At the top of the stairs, she let her gaze roam. Flickering flames from candles on either side of the sofa bed softened the dark shroud of the storm. A single large kerosene lamp in the middle of the table threw more shadows into the eerie corners. Laurie turned off the flashlight. That harsh glare did not belong in all that soft light.
Damien stood at the bottom of the stairs, his head tilted back slightly as he watched her.
She descended, slowly, awestruck by the inadvertent ambience provided by the raging storm. He lifted his hand, held it out to her. She noted the bright gleam in his dark eyes. Candlelight, she wondered, entranced, or simply the man?
ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
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She hesitated, staring into his eyes, then put her trembling hand in his. He tugged her toward him as she descended the last two steps. At the bottom of the stairs, she tried to pull free but his grip tightened. Peering up at him, the painful twinge across her neck and shoulders distracted her. She rubbed her hand across the back of her neck and shoulders in an effort to ease the aches.