by Laura Taylor
DON’T FORGET me.
As if I could ever forget you, Emma, he thought as he prowled his cell like a beast deprived of his mate.
Torn between hope that her release had finally been arranged by Child Feed or the United Nations and his anxiety that Emma was being subjected to another interrogation session – or something far worse – he paced his cell as endless hours transpired. Even when his common sense surfaced to protest the futility of his behavior, David ignored it and his aching body.
Guilt gnawed at him. He wanted her out of harm’s way, but he also craved her continued presence in the cellblock. He needed her, but he wanted her safe.
Exhaustion finally forced David to lower himself into a seated position on his pallet. He stared at the floor as the puddle of light from the window at the top of his cell slowly shrank into oblivion. His anxiety for Emma escalated as darkness consumed the cellblock.
Don’t forget me.
Her words continued to echo in his mind. He leaned back, rested the back of his head against the wall, and wondered not for the first time how she could think that he could ever forget her. He dreaded being without her, and he loathed not knowing what was happening to her. David wondered if she even understood the complexity of his emotions where she was concerned.
He’d feared for both his life and his sanity before Emma’s arrival in the cellblock. She’d given him the gift of hope. He treasured her confidence and faith in him, although he doubted that he deserved them. He savored the vulnerability she revealed when they shared information about their lives, her tender way of viewing those she loved, and the explosive attraction that sent desire streaking through his body whenever they touched or when he dreamed about her during those sporadic hours when he actually slept.
He desired her in the same way that any healthy man desired the woman who aroused his passion and stirred his imagination, but he longed for her in numerous other ways, too. She fed his soul with her sensitivity, made him laugh with silly jokes, eased his loneliness with her compassion, and nurtured whatever courage he possessed with her belief in him.
Emma had helped him to rediscover his ability to feel, perhaps to even love again. In the years since his divorce he’d closed himself off to all emotional involvement, but in just three weeks Emma had opened his heart and expanded his world. She’d become the center of both. But nagging at him was his worry that she was clinging to him out of fear. Did he simply represent a safe haven, or could she truly care for him, even love him, if they weren’t facing the threat of execution on a minute by minute basis?
Although he felt reluctant to speculate on what might happen between them in the future, he desperately wanted the freedom that would allow them to know each other as a man and a woman. David closed his eyes to the darkness. He understood her need to feel safe, but his past cautioned him not to discount the possibility that she wouldn’t want or need him once they were free.
His emotions frayed, he sought comfort in his thoughts and fantasies of Emma. Exhaustion finally claimed him, and he fell into a restless doze with an ethereal mental image of Emma walking naked out of a bank of swirling mist. Seconds later she stepped into his embrace, but when he closed his arms around her, she disappeared.
David Winslow cried out in protest as he slept.
