"Oh yes, I agree. You absolutely should have left me there." Lightly, ever so lightly, he patted her grinding jaw. Was that a hiss he heard? He thought it was, bless her. "I believe you are beginning to understand, Lori. You see, despite your good intentions, I can offer you no gratitude for what I am not in the least grateful for."
"Should I take that to mean you'd rather be dead?"
"How very astute you are, my dear woman."
"You jerk," she seethed. "Life is a gift. How dare you spit in its face."
She snatched up his uneaten bowl of soup, marched to the sink, and dumped the contents down the drain. With a strike of her hand to the wall, a hideous gnashing sound commenced. "This is a garbage disposal!" she shouted over the noise.
She turned it off, opened a black portal, threw in the bowl, and snapped, "this is a dishwasher! I hope you were watching closely because the next time you can do it for yourself. Same thing goes for the pants, because the next time you get snagged in a zipper I sure as hell won't work it loose for you, you—you—oooohh!"
Noble savored her outburst with far more appreciation than he had her soup. It fed his need for the familiar, the revenge that flowed in his blood. It also fed his desire for this livid creature, so glorious in her wrath.
"What a provocative woman you are," he said with sincerity. "As much or even more so now as when we were in the tub. By the way, you will return me my gun now."
"Why do you want it?" she demanded with a nervous tap of her foot. "So you can kill my other television before you blow your brains out?"
He hadn't thought about that option of escape. It was viable, but he deemed suicide cowardly and a coward he was not.
The rapid flitting of emotions revealed in her transparent face captivated him, lured him to pause and study her at length. He found it admirable that her gaze never wavered from his, especially when it gave so much away. She wanted nothing to do with him. She was drawn to him against her will.
"I wish to have my gun returned because it is mine and I take comfort in the paltry possessions which I can claim as my own," Noble said quietly, with a civility he had heretofore lacked.
She sighed heavily but gave an equal measure of ground. Almost. "I'll give you the gun. But no bullets, okay?"
"It is not 'okay.' But as they say, beggars cannot be choosers, and I am done begging for so much as your pardon this night." He disliked himself for letting that last bit of poison slip out. But clearly not half as much as she disliked him for having said it.
"Fine," she said curtly as she stalked to the door. She paused long enough to say icily, "while I get your gun you can pick up your clothes in the bathroom. Consider it your first lesson in modern civilization. Women actually have lives that don't revolve around taking care of a man, and hell if I'm about to clean up after you!"
Noble silently applauded her exit. It was more than he could do for his horrid behavior. But it had served its purpose, released him from the overwhelming magnitude of what he would rather shun than confront.
Avoiding it still, he went in search of Lori's bathing room. There on the floor, his clothes were piled in a heap.
Discarded, outdated.
A burning metaphor for life as he once knew it.
Chapter 7
Noble stroked his pistol in the night shadows of the bedroom Lori had said he could use for however long it took him to adjust, get a job, and fend for himself.
Though he replied that the sooner the better, he had wanted to beg her to stay, not to leave him alone with the mayhem of his thoughts. But here he was, forcing himself to face this perverse fate thrust upon him.
How would he survive? he wondered. Lori had said that people no longer rode horses in the streets, but relied on horseless carriages known as automobiles or cars. And even if he learned to use one, how could he afford the purchase? He would have to earn money somehow; yet who would employ a lawyer a century behind in his legal expertise?
Those were, he knew, the easier questions and all without ready answers. But he would learn to survive in this strange new world. Only, to what purpose? Ah, there it was, the thing he shuddered to confront. His purpose in life no longer existed, and without it, he was adrift in an amorphous sea of no meaning, with no reason for being to guide his path.
His quest for justice was gone. His thirst for revenge would never be quenched. And his vow to uphold family honor? Like so much sand in a shattered hourglass.
He felt as if he were floundering, being pulled under by dark despair. The walls seemed to close around him, and he got up, paced the room, trying the shake off this horrible sense of suffocation.
Noble touched the clothes he'd laid out to dry. Lori had offered to show him how to do it quickly by putting them in a drying machine. Though he had refused with a show of disdain for her modern contraptions, in truth he simply had not wanted to part with what little he had.
Not even the wanted poster he had found sealed to the inside of his coat and had carefully peeled away. Instinct had advised him to destroy the evidence of his crimes lest Lori find them out. Something, some fragment of memory he couldn't quite catch, warned him her reaction would be severe.
Still, he had been unable to relinquish even the poster's destructive link with his past.
By the moon's light Noble again traced the likeness of his face, the crude block lettering offering a bounty for his head. No longer soggy, the rough grain of the paper held a talismanic feel beneath his fingertips. As did the other articles he stroked, one by one.
He gathered his possessions to him, pressed his face to the worn leather and wool and sheepskin and fur. And then he went about rearranging his things at the foot of the bed as if he were placing sacred objects on an altar.
That done, he paced some more, the crowd of his thoughts still dogging him.
"I cannot bear this a moment longer, else I'll go insane," he whispered into the shifting shadows of night.
Decisively, he made his way down the short hallway until he faced Lori's bedroom. A sliver of light bled beneath the door and onto the floor where he stood, debating.
Noble swallowed and it tasted of pride. Forcing it down, he knocked softly, twice. He heard the sound of her moving. "Yes? What is it?" she called from behind the door.
"I... Lori, I wondered if I might beg a moment of your time. As well as your pardon for my ill manners tonight."
"Ill?" she retorted. "That's putting it mildly."
"Yes, you're right. I was insufferably rude."
"Go on."
"And I was..." Lord, what else did she want? His hat in his hand? His lips to her feet? Probably. Mustering as much remorse as he could, he added, "and I was a cad."
"A cad, huh?" Was that a quiet chuckle he heard? "You forgot to mention that you were also a rake and a rogue."
"Yes, yes." He sighed. "If I add viper, villain, and knave most vile to my list of sins, will you see me?"
The door swung open and his heart quickened at the sight of her, all soft and bed-rumpled and illuminated by a muted light.
"I accept your apology—on one condition." She gave him a smile that could thaw ice and nearly torched him. "You have to accept mine for being so sharp with you. I'm afraid you hit a nerve and I let my temper get away from me."
"Rubbish. You said what you thought and what you thought was precisely true. If you don't mind my saying so, I found you stunning in your fury."
"You did?" She cocked her head, amused.
"Oh yes, absolutely. A woman has never spoken to me so forthrightly before and I was somewhat amazed by it all. A bit of the reason I deliberately urged you on."
"Why, you..." The purse of her lips implied he was everything he had admitted and more. "How did you bait me? Just for future reference, of course," she asked, with a hint of curiosity and good-natured humor.
"Let me see." He tapped his lips and was pleased, highly pleased, when her gaze warmed on the motion. "What I said, about you seeking the call of the theater. It is some
thing of a questionable profession and I did acknowledge your talents in a rather mocking tone. But truthfully, I admired your impassioned speech, the flash of your eyes—even the jab of your finger. I thought you more riveting than any lead actress commanding the stage."
Lori laughed. "Who knows? Maybe I'll audition for The Taming of the Shrew and get cast as Kate."
"Ah, Shakespeare, the Bard most supreme. Do they still read his works in this modern age of yours?" Noble asked hopefully.
"I have a collection in my bookcase you're more than welcome to." She touched his hand and he found a sweet comfort in that small act. "His plays are still alive and well, Noble. How about we see one the next time there's a local production?"
"That would be wonderful." He kissed her fingertips. "I can't tell you how much this means to me, to know at least a few things remain the same despite the passage of time."
"Some important things last," she assured him, then added, "and other important things change."
"Such as?"
"Actors are held in high esteem these days." He nodded his approval. "And most women have enough self-esteem to speak their minds. I'm not so out of the ordinary that way." The look she gave him was one of reluctant admission.
"You think that I shall find you less extraordinary than I believe you to be once I meet other women of your time?"
"I do."
"This disturbs you," he noted, peculiarly pleased.
"Of course it does," she blurted out. Then her gaze shied from his and he thought her all the more extraordinary for her honesty despite her embarrassment. "I mean, everyone likes to think of themselves as being special. And the truth simply is, I'm not all that different from most women. I have a job so I can pay my bills and—"
"You work? You actually work away from home? This is amazing! What else do you do?"
"I shop, I max out my credit card, and screw up my checkbook balance." With a small laugh, she said, "now that's amazing—considering I studied accounting before I decided to get a degree in nursing."
"You went to a school of higher learning?" Unbelievable!
"State university. I got through on a scholarship, a grant and a loan, and slinging dough at Pizza Hut. Not the easiest way to get through college, but I did it myself and I'm proud of it."
"As well you should be." Noble regarded Lori with respect bordering on awe. "What an incredible feat you have accomplished. To actually study a profession while you labored at... well, whatever a pizza hut is." Eagerly, then: "What else do women do differently these days?"
A mischievous smile sparked her lips. "They vote."
"Good God." Her revelations were hard even to fathom. He wanted to hear more and yet he had already heard too much. Still, he was curious as to how a woman like Lori spent her nights as well as her days.
Stealing a glance into her private chambers, Noble saw a beacon of comfort. It was a room belonging to a woman, soothing in its pastel hues, wholly feminine in its array of shapes and textures.
"Might I come in?" he asked, expecting refusal but very much hoping she would allow him to enter.
Lori silently debated. No man had come through her bedroom doors since Mick had died. She had changed it to suit her feminine whims over the passage of too many solitary years.
No need to consider a man's lack of decorating taste. No need to plot secretly the washing machine fatality of an ugly baseball cap.
The heavy, masculine furniture with dark paisley curtains and matching linens was gone, delicate white wrought iron and Battenberg lace taking its place. No, it was no longer a bedroom shared with a man, it was hers.
She did not want to be alone right now, and knew Noble did not need to be alone either. But still she asked, "If I say yes, do you promise to mind your manners?"
"I seek no seduction here, only the comfort of your company. I give you my word."
She motioned him in, struck by how small the space seemed. His powerful presence filled the room, creating an atmosphere of vivid contrasts to tantalize a woman's senses.
The vision came without warning. She saw them wrapped in moonlight and candleglow, the two of them splayed like ribbons unspooled on a bed.
The vision passed but left her shaken. Averting her gaze from where Noble stood, openly admiring her decor, she quickly went to an antique chifforobe and grabbed her favorite robe. A ratty, ankle-hugging terry cloth robe meant to give warmth to the wearer but that would put a quick end to a steamy affair.
"An interesting wrapper," Noble observed. "Is it as serviceable as it looks?"
"Uh... yeah." Lori suddenly wished she'd dug through her drawers for the filmy pink bit of nothing she put on when she got really depressed.
After settling herself on a white wicker rocker, she indicated he should sit too. Lori began to rock while he tested the mattress edge gingerly then fairly warmed it with his Levi's-clad behind.
Mick's jeans; so was the flannel shirt Noble wore with an uncanny air of poise and masculine elegance. It bothered her to admit it, but Noble looked better in Mick's clothes than Mick ever had. She resented Noble a little for that—but not half as much as she resented herself for noticing.
"So, what's on your mind?" she prompted.
"Too much and more than I can sort through. I sought you out with the hope you might give me some advice."
"I have a better idea. You talk and I'll listen."
"You're sure you don't mind? The hour is quite late and I do tend to pontificate when caught up in a debate—even if it is internal."
The bedside clock said 3:00 a.m. and she had been due to punch in at seven. Had been. Once she'd said her less than hospitable good night to Noble, she'd called in sick. Talk about an acting job, she'd wheezed and coughed out her excuses for the two days she was certain it would take to shake her sudden flu. Two days wasn't much, but even mad as she had been, she'd known she had to help him get his bearings and catch a breather herself before confiding in Ryan.
She wasn't angry anymore, but felt just a little—okay, a lot—uncomfortable with the cozy, exciting sensation Noble's nearness provoked. "Forget the time," she told him. "We can sleep in late. So go ahead, spill your guts and pontificate away."
"Very well, then. I am terribly distraught," he confessed. "Nothing is familiar here and I'm given to wonder if I will ever claim that simple luxury of feeling normal again. Not only with my surroundings, but here." He pressed his palm to his chest, near his heart. "Within."
"Some things in life never change, Noble. The search for inner peace is as old as time."
"Yes, and small consolation that is." He fell silent and studied his hands as if he were a palm reader searching for a nonexistent lifeline.
Lori quit rocking. She wondered so much about this man who was an enigma wrapped in a riddle. But compassion overrode curiosity. "Were you at peace with yourself in your past life?" she asked.
"No. But I had made my peace with the path I was compelled to follow. That path is denied me now and I am left without a sense of direction. I feel so hollow inside, Lori, as if I'm a stranger to myself."
"I know how that feels and it's not a good feeling."
"It's terrible," he whispered. "My life has traversed many twists and turns but never have I lost sight of the purpose which guided me."
"And what was your purpose?"
"A worthy one." He left it at that. "It is gone now as if it never existed."
"But you exist," she reminded him.
"Do I?" He looked at her then, a scrutinizing stare. "My endless dreams seemed real, as real as this moment we're sharing now. It leaves me to wonder if this is the dream and I shall awaken in the place you stole me from. How can I know, Lori? How can I know what is real and what is not? For certain, there is far more unreality about me here than from where I came."
Leaving her chair, she went to him, put her arm around him, and gave him a hug.
"Hugs are real, Noble." She grasped his hand and squeezed. "So is holding hands with a friend who
cares. You are real. I'm real. Believe it."
"I don't want to. But... I do. Lori," he said in a hushed, confidential whisper, "please don't think less of me for confessing this, but I am afraid."
"Think less of you?" she repeated, incredulous. "Good Lord, Noble, do you actually think it makes you less of a person to admit being afraid?"
"Of course. To show fear is the sign of a weakling. At least for a man it is."
"But it's okay for a woman to be afraid, right?"
"Certainly. And it is a man's duty to protect her from whatever or whomever she is frightened of."
Lori considered setting Noble straight on his antiquated ideas in the role-playing department. Better saved for later, she decided, when he wasn't so upset.
"Look, Noble, being afraid does not make you a weakling. It makes you human. In fact, if you weren't afraid of what you're dealing with now, I would question your sanity."
"You would?" At her nod, he said in a rush, "thank you for easing my mind on that score. Quite frankly, fearing for my sanity was part of the reason I came to your chambers."
"Whatever the reason, I'm glad you did, I'm glad we made up and more than glad to tell you that no way, no how, are you crazy. And now that we've got that straightened out..."
"You wish me to leave?"
"No, I wish you to stay." Even as she said it Lori had to wonder if she was insane. "At least for a little longer. You see, I have a problem of my own. I've got—"
"Insomnia." He looked as surprised by his insight as she. But then he pressed his temples, concentrating, and said, "ever since your husband died, you've had trouble sleeping."
Lori was momentarily speechless. "How did you know?" she finally said.
"I'm not really sure. I just... knew." Noble's perplexed expression gave way to one of such absolute connection that she felt as if they were linked by an indelible bond of empathy. "Tell me, Lori. When you were a little girl, did you really jump from a roof, thinking you could fly?"
"I was six. I broke my leg." Stunned and disconcerted, she wondered how much had he absorbed in his deep-sleep state. "Do you remember anything else I told you about myself?"
Mallory Rush - [Outlawsand Heroes 02] Page 6
