The Man Must Marry(8)

Sam wrapped his jacket around Willamina and simply held her while she   fought her ghosts. He rested his chin on her head, liking the feel of   her snuggled against him. He remembered how she'd had them all laughing   not long ago, telling them how she'd gotten rid of her husband.   Willamina Kent was an enigma. She was sassy and clumsy, short and plump,   and apparently contented that way. She was compassionate and   empathetic, and she loved Abram Sinclair. For all of that, Sam admired   her. Even in terror, she'd remained level-headed enough to want everyone   out of the car. Sam could hear Darcy and Paula wailing about their  torn  dresses and run stockings.

Sam smiled. Willamina probably had runs in her stockings and rips in her   dress, but she wasn't complaining. He ran his fingers through her  hair,  undoing the last of her topknot. Soft, silken curls cascaded over  his  hand, making him shiver.

Sam sighed as he looked toward his brothers, who had stood up and were   staring down at the two women huddled together on the blanket.

Ronald was back with his beloved car, and Sam could see him muttering to   himself as he walked around it. The headlights were still on, and from   the expression on Ronald's face, the front end was not a pretty sight.   The chauffeur looked as if he was going to cry.

The police arrived, along with several ambulances. Willamina wiped her   eyes with the back of her hand, wincing when she moved to get off his   lap.

"Where do you hurt?"

"I'm just lame."

"Can you sit here while I talk with the police?"

"Of course," she said, wiping her cheeks again. "I'm fine. Go."

Sam set her on Ronald's coat, taking the time to snug her up in his own   jacket. "Stay right here until you can be checked out by the   paramedics," he told her, not leaving until she nodded agreement.

As soon as he walked away, Willa stood up and went to Darcy and Paula,   keeping Sam's jacket wrapped tightly around herself. Damn, she couldn't   stop shaking. It had been five years, but it could have been yesterday   for the terror she felt. Last time, it had been just her and her niece,   Jennifer, but it had been dark then, too, and Willa had also been  forced  off the road. Only her car hadn't landed safely in a ditch; it  had hit a  culvert and rolled, stopping against a ledge and bursting  into flames.  Bruised and bleeding, Willa had needed all of her strength  to get  Jennifer out before it had exploded. Willa still had scars from  the  incident, but none as deep as the one she carried in her heart for  her  niece.

"How is everyone?" she asked, sitting on the grass in front of the   women. Jesse and Ben were talking to a policeman nearby. Sam was with   another officer and Ronald, looking over the car.                       
       
           



       

"Nothing's broken, except my bracelet," Darcy answered, holding her arm   up. Willa could tell it was made of diamonds and likely cost more than   the car. She'd probably be a little upset herself if she had broken   something that expensive. "At least you didn't lose it," she offered.

"That's true. How about you? Did you get burned or something? I heard you yelling about a fire."

"No. I'm fine. And there wasn't any fire."

"Ladies, can you walk to the ambulance?" a young man asked, hunching down to shine a flashlight over

them.

"With help," Darcy answered, taking another man's extended hand.

"I think my ankle's sprained," Paula said. "It hurts too much to get up."

"Send a basket down here," the young man called to the man helping Darcy   up the slope. "And you, ma'am. Can you walk?" he asked Willa.

"I don't need to be checked. I'm not hurt."

"I'd like to make sure of that," he countered, shining his light over   her, smiling as he carefully brushed back her hair. "You have a bump on   your forehead."

Willa raised a hand to her forehead. "It's just a small bump."

"Your wrist's bleeding," he said, taking her hand.

"Maybe you can give me a Band-Aid."

"Maybe I should just bring you to the ambulance and see what else I find," he persisted.

"I'm fine ."

"Here we go, ma'am," a burly young man said as he and another set a long basket down beside Paula and prepared to put her in it.

"You go help them," Willa suggested to her medic. "I'll go to the ambulance eventually."

He reached into his box and pulled out a large Band-Aid. He carefully   put it over the cut on her wrist, then narrowed his eyes at her. "This   is just temporary. Until you eventually come to the ambulance."

"Thank you."

"Thank me at the ambulance," he shot back, jogging over to another   accident victim. The strobe lights, the sounds of police radios   crackling, the smell of gasoline brought back all the painful, horrific   memories.

But especially the ambulance.

She couldn't bring herself to go sit inside it. The last time she'd been   in one had been with Jennifer, who hadn't been moving and hadn't  opened  her eyes. Her eleven-year-old niece had become trapped in the  car, and  her foot was crushed when Willa had pulled her out. Now  sixteen years  old, the girl wore a prosthesis where her right foot used  to be.

No. She couldn't go up to that ambulance.

She walked away from the sights and sounds and smells but couldn't   outwalk the piercing strobe lights. She sat down in the grass about a   hundred yards from the chaos, her body sore and her bare feet cold. She   tucked them beneath her and sat in silence, watching the people running   around.

She could see several more vehicles in the ditch past the limousine.   There had been no other cars involved five years ago. The driver who'd   forced them off the road had continued on, leaving her and Jennifer to   their fate.

Sam's angry voice suddenly intruded into her thoughts. "I told you to stay put."

She looked up at him, not blinking.

"You're supposed to be getting checked out."

"I already was," she said, lifting her arm to show him her bandage.

"That's it? They gave you a Band-Aid?"

"Is she hurt?" Ben asked, coming up behind Sam, followed by Jesse.

"I don't know."

"I'm not," she said, looking into the darkness, away from the accident.

"Come to the ambulance and prove it," Sam countered.

"No."

"Willa-"

"Leave me alone, Sinclair. When a ride shows up to take me back to the hotel, you can find me right here."

Sam mouthed an expletive as he looked at his brothers, who'd been   helping him search for her. When he'd returned to take her to the   ambulance and hadn't been able to find her, he'd become frantic, worried   she had a concussion and had wandered off.

He was uncertain what to do. The accident had obviously upset her more   than hurt her. Judging by the fact that she'd walked this far by herself   and by the tone of voice she was using to get rid of him, Sam guessed   she was okay. In fact, she appeared to be in fighting form.

"You're going to the ambulance," he said, hunching down beside her, more   than willing to give her a fight if that's what she wanted.

She looked at him again, only she wasn't seeing ghosts now. "Go away."                       
       
           



       

"No."

"I'm not going to that ambulance, Sinclair."

"If I have to carry you, I will."

Her eyes widened, then she laughed humorlessly. "It will take the three of you."

"You think so?" he asked, getting close to her face, which was lit by the strobe lights. "I think I can handle you, Ms. Kent."

"Aw, hell. Now I've challenged your manly ego, haven't I? Forget it, Sam. Just go away."

He ended the discussion by picking her up and standing. She gasped in   surprise, then hissed in outrage, grabbing his neck in a choking grip.   "Put me down!"

"In the ambulance."

"I hope you throw your back out!"

Sam strode past his laughing brothers. "Why, Ms.Kent , you don't weigh more than a minute. Certainly not enough for a divorce."

"I hope you break your back, you jerk!"

"You think you're fat? You should have seen my date to the senior prom."

Sam thought she was going to hit him-until they reached the ambulance.   Then she stiffened and clung to him like a frightened child, her eyes   closing tightly.

The accident she'd alluded to earlier must have traumatized her. Sam   stepped into the ambulance and sat down, keeping her in his lap. "Here   she is. Check her out," he told the attendant. "If you think she should   go to the hospital, I'll ride with her."