Only, he was drawn to the one before him in a way that confused him, thrilled him, and made him feel alive for the first time since he’d died.
“Your gift,” she mused. “It must be.”
“Must be what?” he asked, seeking her expressions again, the planes of her cheeks, the studying gleam in her eyes. The parted softness of her lips. He found it difficult to look away from her open guilelessness.
“Must be why I can be here with you and not feel threatened.” She tilted her head, obviously examining him and that very fact. He remembered their meeting, when he had held her hand, and knew she was remembering as well. Breaking down how she had managed to do it when she had wanted to run the other way out of reflex.
“I can’t stand to have any of the guys touch me.” A shudder visibly slid over her frame. She went on as if it hadn’t happened. “It’s hard for me to be in the same room with them, no matter who else is there. No one or everyone. I know I’m safe, but…” The words trailed off, and he wasn’t going to press.
“Do you trust that I won’t hurt you?” He’d never thought anyone’s acceptance would matter again, but hers did.
Like a breeze lingering in the room, he felt the brush of her gaze as she looked into his eyes, followed her as she searched his face and saw everything she needed to know right in front of her.
“Yes,” she finally answered him. “I do believe you. You’re different.” Moistened lips came together, her eyes glistening as her mind worked.
If you only knew how much. The caustic thought never reached her, but he couldn’t restrain it either.
The next three nights, he followed the same routine. Walking out of his bedroom to saunter down the hall to lean and listen to the woman next to the bed as she poured her strength into Tabitha through her words.
Thick, red hair fell like a waterfall against her shoulders and back. He found himself drawn to the colors more and more until he realized why. Those colors reminded him of the brilliance of the sunset he’d never see again, shades of deep red and gold, a natural blending much like Mother Nature’s artwork. With the length cascading around her in ripples and waves, the richness was breathtaking. Discovering what was prompting the comparison only drew him to the vibrant colors more. She was a work of art from the colorful curls of her hair to the sandy tones of her eyes to the cream lightness of her skin. Lily was not frail, nor was she anything less than feminine. He hoped some day to share his visions of how he saw her with her. He knew she would never believe a word of it now.
He listened, unmoving and silent, until she stopped reading, then Joaquin stood away from the wall.
“How are you this evening?” he asked.
She stretched, rolling her neck. “Better. I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept so well, but the last three days have been incredible.” Marking the page in the book, she placed it on the table by Tabitha’s bed.
He hid his pleasure and his smile. She didn’t have to know he’d been helping her. She needed the rest to heal. He couldn’t ignore her need, and resisting his desire to help her was futile.
“No nightmares?” He didn’t bother to hide all of his concern. He found himself honestly caring for her answer.
She blinked, then focused on him. “No. Not one,” she answered, a little surprised, as if realizing she hadn’t had one in several nights.
He nodded. That was all he needed to know. Since he couldn’t follow through on his first impulse—to take her away from the threats and danger, he ensured she could heal. There was also little doubt, after watching her the last three nights that she wouldn’t willingly leave her friend behind. There was a forged bond between them. A bond he could respect, a survivor’s bond. The deep bond of soldiers in the battlefield. So he did the only thing he could. He stayed, and helped.
Lily just didn’t know it.
“I need to walk outside,” he said, making his voice neutral. He’d already searched the surrounding woods and knew it was quiet. It appeared to be the perfect opportunity to allow Lily room to reawaken to the world surrounding her. “Would you like to join me?”
Tension stiffened her shoulders. He didn’t say what came to the tip of his tongue. That she could trust him. That he would die before he would hurt her, or any of the women. The choice had to be hers. She had to find the strength, and realize the truth. That she was safe.
“I haven’t been outside yet,” she replied, her voice subdued. Gradually, the tension in her shoulders lessened without his involvement.
“The skies are clear. You should be able to see quite a few stars.”
A wistful shadow flowed over her face. “I haven’t seen them in years. I’ve been watching the sunsets and sunrises every day I can.” A fierce streak of courage glowed in her eyes, hiding the pain of what the truth of those words meant. “I missed too many.”
He gestured toward the stairs with a gallant bow. “After you, then. I see no reason to miss another night.”
A spear of pleasure pulsed through him as her lips lifted in answer. “I think I’d like that.”
Conscious of her need to not feel crowded, he followed a couple paces behind as he let her lead the way downstairs.
* * * *
Lily heard the door close, separating her from the rest of all she knew. She jerked to a stop on the front porch, her gaze sweeping from side to side, taking in every detail. Shadows shuddered beneath the trees, a slow breeze weaving and rocking leaves and limbs. At a glance, those shadows held an eerie, apparition-like quality, but a blink, a heartbeat later, and they were nothing but shadows, nothing but the sway and swing of the trees in front of her.
She released a slow breath, twisting her neck to relax. There was nothing there that wasn’t there during the day. There was nothing there that hadn’t been there the day before.
“Is this the first time you’ve been outside?” he asked, stopping a pace or two away on the next step down. His consideration to always give her ample space wasn’t lost on her. Where he stood below her, the light from the house illuminated his features. Midnight dark eyes with jet black lashes encircling them. Masculine, though thinner, cheekbones, a firm set to his lips that spoke of willpower and strength while every word relayed his gentle nature. He was several inches taller than her, long legs and narrow hips with an athletic body. There was no doubt he was a man of strength hidden within the sinewy length of his frame. She was just as positive he would die before he ever entertained the idea of harming her or anyone else in the house. His patience as she came to terms with being outside for the first time was proof. He wasn’t prodding her to move in the least. She calmed the surge of her heart with only a little effort. It was getting easier to find a calm as each day passed.
“Since we’ve been here? Yes,” she replied. “It took a couple days to get organized and settled. Stepping out here didn’t seem very important.”
Drawing a deep draught of the cool mountain air, she could taste the pine on her tongue it was so fresh. The air itself held an invigorating strength, filling her lungs with pure nature. “It is lovely out here,” she said a moment later, relishing the languid relaxation of the moment.
“There’s a clear spot a short distance from the garage where you can see miles of open sky,” he told her. “It’s beautifully breathtaking. Even the mountains are crystal clear.” He tipped a shoulder in light coercion.
“I’d like to see it.” What surprised her was, she meant it. She wanted to do things, enjoy the freedom she had now. She never wanted to take it for granted again.
He nodded and walked to the bottom of the steps, letting her join him at her own pace. The nighttime was beautiful in the wilderness. There hadn’t been much time to enjoy it, or daytime for that matter, at the cabin. She refused to acknowledge the tremors of nervousness or let them get a grip on her, a chilling fear that could make her falter.
Tabitha wasn’t the only one who needed time. At least now, she really felt she’d have a chance to get it. She was free, no lon
ger staring at inch-thick steel bars. She detested those bars with every ounce of her being, despising the men who had kept her locked within them.
“It will get better.”
“You’re in my mind again.” She shot him a reproachful look, but she doubted he’d seen it from where she followed, nearly behind him. The sway of his straight black hair kept pace with his even stride, swishing evenly over his shoulders. He cut through the shadows of the trees as though he’d done so numerous times, her words not even slowing him. She followed his steps through the shrouded undergrowth of the woods.
He shrugged without apology. “You can do the same. I’ve offered myself freely and openly. You only need to look to see what I am thinking, or feeling.”
Her first thought was that walking over his thoughts was something she couldn’t do, then realized she had, more than once. “Why would you do that?”
“Simple. You can’t trust what you can’t examine right now.” He paused his stride and turned. He lifted a hand between them, casting a curious look at his flat palm. “Like this. Your first expectation would be my intent is to hurt you, to strike you.”
Dark and sincere, his eyes found hers. There was no condemnation in them for her fears. She stiffly nodded when she couldn’t deny he was right.
“I have never, nor would I ever, strike a woman. You don’t know that.” With a delicate touch, he formed his palm around her jaw, caressing her skin in the coolness of his own. “I know how hard it is to stand there and accept this, even when it is meant only in friendship. I felt your terror when you let me hold your hand the night I met you. I see it now.” Eyes that swirled with the shifting light of the surrounding shadows never blinked. “That is why I hide nothing from you. If you don’t want me to know your thoughts, you can always erect the barriers you have in the past. I will not force them.”
With a gentle stroke, he brushed his thumb across her cheek, then let his hand fall away. Her breath left her in a slow pulse of sensation when he did stroke her. She had forgotten what true tenderness and empathy felt like. It burned she was so hungry for it.
Resuming his pace, he began to stride again through the thick stand of trunks and wavering limbs. They’d taken no more than a few steps when her words stopped him.
“And you expect me to just believe you?”
“I don’t have any expectations,” he replied evenly. “You will do what you must.”
She froze and raked a hand through her hair, causing the full waves to cascade around her in disarray. “Joaquin, I can’t be the person I was before I was caged.” There was no way to hide the stammer in her voice.
“I know.” The wind rustled the leaves again, punctuating how absolutely silent the darkness was. When his voice reached out to her, she felt the way it wrapped her, cocooned her in his complete understanding. “But you can be the beautiful woman I see right now, the woman who helped an absolute stranger. The same who has stood beside her friends. You don’t recognize that woman because you haven’t acknowledged her yet. You fear the woman you have become because she was forced upon you. When you do, you will be free, the way you were meant to be. There is no shame in being the woman you are today.”
Those words whispered away on the breeze and he started walking again. She had to blink to hide the tears his faith had dragged up unexpectedly. As much as she hated to think she was vain, it wasn’t his compassion bringing tears to her eyes.
He had called her beautiful.
When she reached his side, she didn’t once think about how close he was, how they almost brushed arm to arm. “I don’t want to be scared, or ashamed, of what I am,” she said so quietly, the words seared her throat with their brusque heat.
He looked at her, lifting the hand he’d touched her with to catch the tears off her lashes. “There is nothing to fear.” One by one, he captured her tears. “The shame is not yours, lovely. It is theirs. You are strong. You never broke.” He glanced away. His body tightened.
“What is it?”
“Shh,” he breathed. “Listen.”
She tried and couldn’t hear anything but the soughing of the trees all around them. Then, she heard it. An almost silent sound, a pace, a swish. In instinctive reaction, she pressed closer to him.
“Do not fear it.”
There was something in the woods they couldn’t see and he was telling her to not be scared. She wanted to scream at him that he was insane, but couldn’t find the words. Without warning, he twined his fingers through hers and simply walked forward. Stunned and absorbed at the same time, she followed without question.
Seconds later, she heard a low growl. The clench of his fingers wouldn’t let her turn and run. In fact, he kept her moving forward toward that ominous sound. Her throat was so dry, each breath felt like she was deep in a blistering desert. She couldn’t tell one tree from another. She would have only gotten lost had she tried to run. Instead, she stayed a little closer to Joaquin.
She stopped when he did. “Watch,” he said close to her ear, his voice practically nonexistent. A heartbeat, two, passed. Then, she saw it as it seemed to slink out of the shadows. Her eyes widened even as her jaw tried to drop to the leaves beneath her feet.
“It’s a cougar.” A large one! The size of its paws alone would have covered her hand easily.
“A young male hunting,” he confirmed.
She stifled the squeak. “Hunting? And we’re standing here letting it watch us?” Scratch that. It was nearing them!
“Stay calm,” he advised. “Let him approach. He is only curious.”
She couldn’t run. Her legs had turned to water when her eyes latched onto the threat bending through the fallen shadows like an apparition brought to life. “I thought wild animals avoided humans?” she whispered, leaning closer to him as the giant cat approached. A fierce-looking face tipped up, sniffing at the air, but didn’t make any threatening moves or sounds. It simply picked its way forward, as if it was of no concern to cross a mountain lion’s path.
“He is cautious, but not fearful. He’s been around humans before. I don’t think he’s entirely wild.”
“That’s so sad. Someone will hurt him if he doesn’t know to run like hell.” Her fingers tightened around his as the cougar’s clawed paws brought them within feet of each other. The last thing she would have wished for any creature, human or otherwise, would be to be captured or caged. Or worse.
“I am helping ease his natural wariness,” he explained.
Together, they watched as the large feline sank to a haunch, then rolled to his side, offering a single grunt of unconcern. With a tender tug, Joaquin pulled her down with him when he knelt.
“Move slowly.”
With a little direction, he placed her hand on a thickly furred shoulder. Shock, then wonder rifled her system. She sucked in a gasp at the muscular strength, the rich feel of the velvet coat as Joaquin let her fingers slide free from his to run over the length of the animal.
“Amazing,” she said breathlessly, awed at the experience. Moments ticked by without notice as she ran her fingers up and down the cat’s solid length, curving over the unmoving head. She even dared to run her fingers over richly tufted ears. The feel of a racing heart beneath her fingers when she reached ribs reminded her that this was a flesh and blood creature. Long claws unsheathed and dug into the ground as the animal arched into her caresses. He didn’t purr like a housecat, but the animal didn’t seem strained under the touch of her fingers either if the way his paws curled was any indication.
“He needs to be free. It would be a crime to let something happen to him because he’s gotten used to prowling through people’s trash.”
“I fear you are right. That is what he has been doing.” Joaquin searched the darkness, but for what she didn’t know. “I think he’s followed the small game this far with winter not too far off. Hopefully, it will be enough to spur his instincts to cease what he’s been doing.”
Together, they stood, giving room to the magnificen
t creature on the ground. The cougar rolled to its feet, then shook its tawny coat with a fierce shudder. With hardly more than a fleeting look, it bounded off into the trees.
His Redeemer's Kiss Page 9
