Desire to believe battled with panic and fear. Panic and fear won. He gripped her waist and lifted her away from him. When he was free, he sprang to his feet and retreated to the far side of the room.
"Don't," he said hoarsely. "Don't love me." His muscles were tight, his arms rigid at his sides. His chest tightened and it was hard to breathe. "I'll save you the effort of even trying. It won't work, you know. I'm not worth the trouble. Never have been. Now get the hell out of here."
* * *
Chapter 12
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Rebecca rose to her feet slowly, fearful that if she moved too quickly he would bolt. He stood alone on the far side of the room, fighting his feelings. Their eyes met. His anguish was so deep, so gut-wrenching, she thought she might break in two just watching him. She raised her hand, as if she could touch him from across the distance of the room.
"No," he growled, and turned away.
He stared out the window at the twilight as if it held the answers to his suffering. He stood in the same place he did each time she left the loft. He always watched her go. Sometimes, when she reached the grove of trees that separated the barn and garage from the main house, she turned back and saw him staring down at her. The sadness in his expression was what had made her come back night after night, even knowing he had shut her out of his bed and his heart.
"I'm not worth the trouble," he said.
He'd spoken the words with the certainty of someone who had heard them a thousand times before. No doubt he had his mother to thank for that. A woman who would dump her child on relatives, then abandon him in a children's home, would easily express her displeasure by telling her son he wasn't worth the trouble.
Often during the busy workday at the home, harried adults would discuss whether or not a child was worth saving. Should they bother to solicit for adoption, knowing most couples wouldn't want to take on that kind of responsibility? She constantly warned her staff that the children overheard more than everyone thought, that they remembered and passed on the bitter judgments. How many times had Austin heard himself discussed? She knew enough about his past to guess the phrases they would have used. Troublemaker. Bully. Antisocial. Unredeemable.
Words tossed around by professionals who sometimes forgot words could be the harshest blows of all. Like the children now in her care, he had been cast aside, unwanted.
He'd proved them all wrong. His accomplishments and generous spirit had long since convinced her of that. He'd fought his way out, forged a new path and stood as a testament to the power of determination. Despite the odds against him, despite his lack of emotional support, despite the deepest, most tragic scar of all. The belief that he wasn't worth the trouble.
She studied the breadth of his shoulders, the strong musculature of his back. Jeans hugged narrow hips and outlined powerful thighs. He wasn't a child anymore. He'd long ago left that part of him behind. He was a man, with a man's sensibilities. She'd been a fool to think she could heal him with a couple of pats on the arm. She might never be able to heal him.
But he was her husband; she had to try.
She'd asked him to open up enough to let her love him. As with the children she provided for, she couldn't make him an empty promise. Not if she wanted him to learn to trust her. She would only get one chance, if that. She couldn't make a mistake.
She shook her head at her earlier belief that she'd found her way in by figuring out he hungered for physical contact. So what? Of course he did. Most victims of abuse did. It wasn't the key; it was a symptom. She would have to risk everything to get through to him.
She studied the set of his head, so proud. Her gaze dropped to her left hand and the diamond ring that proclaimed her as his wife. From the very first moment she'd stood dripping on Austin's garage floor several weeks ago, he'd come through for her. Offering her refuge from the storm, giving his house to the children, warning her away from him, even when she'd wanted nothing more than to have him make love to her.
Later, when he'd given the playground equipment to the children and then married her because she was pregnant, he'd been supportive, giving, generous and kind. He was her husband. She hoped she would be able to give back as much to him.
She took a step closer to him. He stiffened, but didn't move. Another step, then another, until she stood directly behind him. Not touching, not doing anything to send him running, she breathed in the scent of him and searched for the right words.
"I still remember the first time we met," she said softly. "I don't remember anything about what committee meeting it was, but I can see the room." She closed her eyes.
"You were wearing a white shirt, rolled up to your elbows, and boots. I was new in town. I walked in and you were the first person I saw. I couldn't move. I couldn't even breathe. When the lady at the desk asked me my name, I didn't answer her. I felt like I was thirteen and meeting a star."
She opened her eyes and stared at the weave of his polo shirt. In front of him through the window, she could see the darkening sky. There was a light on in the living area and an overhead lamp on in the kitchen, but their illumination didn't reach as far as the window. Shadows crept in around them, cocooning them in the protective cloak of night.
"You wore an earring," she continued, smiling at the memory. "I'd never known a man who wore an earring before. You were forbidding and dangerous, and I couldn't stop thinking about you. That night I don't think I slept at all, remembering the meeting. Hearing your voice in my head gave me the shivers."
She drew in a deep breath. His silence unnerved her. She wanted to poke him in the side and make sure he was awake. She smiled slightly. Of course he was awake. But couldn't he say something and make this a little easier?
"You made me feel alive inside," she went on, "as if I'd been missing out on the best part of life and suddenly it was available to me." She paused to collect her thoughts. Now came the hard part. "The first time I met Wayne, I knew he was the man I was going to marry. There was no flash of lightning, no sense of danger, just a rightness, as if I'd met the other half of myself." Interesting how both men had provided her with a sense of completion. She'd never thought of that before.
Despite her declaration, Austin didn't move. She said, "I was with a friend of mine at a pep rally. We were both freshmen. My friend was this skinny little guy, one of those nerdy science types who was always getting beaten up. That day was no exception. Two tough guys grabbed him. I was screaming for someone to help, and then there he was. Wayne waded into the trouble, punched out both the bullies and rescued my friend."
Austin turned and looked at her. In the darkness, she couldn't read the expression in his eyes. "A real hero," he said, his voice cold.
Then she remembered how he'd told her about his first meeting with Travis. How he'd been the bully, picking on everyone. The fights covered the pain, she thought with a flash of insight. She should have seen that before. It made perfect sense.
They were standing so close his breath fanned her face. If she stood on tiptoe she could kiss him. It would be a mistake to do that now, she told herself. He wasn't ready. If the truth be told neither was she.
"He was a hero to me," she said softly. "When he'd done away with the other two guys, we introduced ourselves. He offered to walk me to my next class, and that was it. From that moment on, we were together."
"A touching story. Thanks for telling me. "
She ignored his sarcasm. "I have a point here. Marrying Wayne was logical. There was never another choice. We dated, we fell in love, we got engaged. There weren't any tests along the way. The only fight we ever had was about me wanting to save myself for marriage and wanting to put off the wedding until I had my master's degree. Being a normal male in his twenties, Wayne was frustrated by my stubbornness." She shrugged, suddenly embarrassed to be discussing something so intimate. Despite the darkness she stared into his eyes, hoping to see a glimmer of what he was thinking. His gray irises gave nothing away. Was he bored, angry, hurt – what? She c
ouldn't tell.
"Yes, well, after the accident everything changed."
"You've told me this part, Rebecca. You wanted to get married. He didn't. He died hating you. So what?"
She told herself he was being cruel on purpose. It didn't help. Rather than let him see he'd gotten to her, she lowered her gaze. Her eyes widened. His hands hung at his side, into tight fists. She could see the strain around his ankles. He wasn't quite as disinterested as he wanted her to believe. The small sign gave her hope.
"The 'so what' is that I didn't try hard enough. What I realized later was that I should have forced the issue of marriage. I believe Wayne wanted me to prove that I loved him by making the arrangements, anyway, and risking his rejection. I never did. "
She placed her palm on his chest, in the center, close to his heart. He didn't move away. The steady thudding gave her courage. "I'll always care about Wayne – he was my first love. I'll carry those feelings with me always. I'll also always know that I failed him in the end. Not because I stayed a virgin. That was my choice. If I'd known what would happen, of course I would have wanted us to make love. But I couldn't know that ahead of time. Given the same set of circumstances, I still would have wanted to save myself for the marriage bed. "
"You belong in a different time, Rebecca Chambers," Austin said gruffly. "You're out of step with the rest of the world."
"I don't think so. And it's Rebecca Lucas, Austin. I'm your wife." He didn't answer so she went on, "All my choices have been easy ones. I've never had to look inside myself and search out the difficult solutions. Until you. I never believed I was very strong. The fire taught me differently I survived that. I took care of the children. I'm not dismissing the help I was given, but I was the one responsible and I did it."
He swore under his breath, then reached up and placed his hand on the side of her neck. "You've always been pure steel. I've known that from the start."
"That sounds like the beginning of a goodbye." When he started to speak, she touched a finger to his mouth. "No. Not yet. I'm not done. I went into this relationship with my eyes open. I knew exactly who and what you were that first day I came here, dripping on your floor. "
He jerked his hand away, as if her gentleness burned him. "You never knew. You still don't know. You see what you want to see, not the truth."
"How do we know you're not the one with the cloudy vision?"
Before he could speak the sky behind him burst into a thousand sparks of color. Seconds later, a muffled boom shook the building. He turned, pulling her with him, so they both faced out the window.
Fireworks from the main park in town were clearly visible above the trees. Reds, greens, blues and whites exploded, washing away the brilliance of the stars. Their beauty hurt her eyes.
"This is what you see," he said, pointing to the display. "This is what you imagine me to be. You're wrong." There was a moment of calm before the show continued. He gestured to the black, smoky night. "This is reality, Rebecca. There's no magic, nothing noble here. Just the absence of light."
"Oh, please." She moved in front of him and grabbed his shirtfront. "I came into this fully aware of what I was doing I chose to stay here and invite you into my bed. I wanted to be here, with you. I still want to be with you. You didn't force me or coerce me. When I found out I was pregnant, I chose to marry you. I want to be your wife." She wished she were big enough to shake him, but that wasn't possible. She settled for wrinkling his shirt. "I'm making a permanent commitment to you. I'm willing to work through all the hard stuff, the boring parts, the past, the future and everything in between. I know you think you're not worth the trouble. You're wrong. You are. Let me inside, Austin. Just me so I can learn to love you. Let me give you what you've always wanted."
He started to back away. The fireworks cast colored shadows on his face, making him seem other-worldly, as if he really were the devil. She hung on tighter.
"No!" she cried. "I won't lose you. Not now. Trust me, please. Just a little. You're a good and decent man. Kind, generous, sensitive. Even loving, if you'd give yourself a chance."
His eyes bore into hers. Silence crackled around them, broken only by the booms of the fireworks. He took her hands in his and pulled them from his shirt.
"You lead with your chin," he said. "It's a good way to get it busted."
"You'd never hit a woman," she said confidently.
"It's a metaphor."
"To hell with metaphors."
He raised his eyebrows. "What did you say?"
"Oh, Austin, I'm not interested in metaphors and analogies anymore. Let's just deal with us. Can you trust me even a little?"
He didn't even pause before answering. "No."
She felt as if he'd slapped her, but she plunged on. She'd made her commitment; there was no turning back. "I'll make you trust me. I'll prove myself a thousand times if necessary. I'm not going to leave you or hurt you or betray you. I'm going to be here for the next fifty years. Maybe longer if I keep my looks."
He smiled faintly. "You will."
"Believe me."
The smile faded. "I can't."
"Then believe this."
She rested one hand on his shoulder and reached the other to the back of his neck, pulling him down toward her. She raised herself up to kiss him. When he would have resisted, she breathed his name.
He relaxed enough to let her kiss him, but he didn't respond. His mouth stayed closed, his lips didn't move and his arms hung at his sides.
She exhaled her frustration. "Just once give in, would you? Why do you have to be so stubborn?" She tried to think of a way to get through to him. Something deep inside her whispered that if she could get back into his bed, she would have a better chance of making things work. Of course there was a chance the voice doing the whispering belonged to the parts of her he'd awakened with his masterful touch. Which meant her desire was more selfish than she liked.
She glared up at him, loving the way the evening stubble shadowed the lines of his jaw, causing him to look even more forbidding. "Why do you have to make everything so difficult?" she asked in frustration. "I'm already pregnant. What's the worst that could happen now?"
The worst was that he would start to believe, Austin thought, fighting against the will of his body and his soul. Only his mind stood firmly on the other side, watching as if from a distance. The cold logic that made him successful in his chosen field reminded him that his relationship with Rebecca was doomed to failure. By keeping his distance as much as possible, he would minimize the risk.
But she wouldn't want to hear that. Not from him, not now. "You'll be the death of me, Rebecca," he said.
"No." Her smile was sweet and pure. "I'll be your salvation."
"I'm long past saving. If you had any sense, you would have already figured that out."
She opened her mouth to protest. He didn't let her. Be fore she could make a sound, he raised his hands to her hands and slid his fingers through the silky strands. Gently he tilter her head toward him. A brilliant rocket burst in the sky showering them with red light, turning her eyes the color o1 velvet and her skin the sweetest cream.
He lowered his head until his mouth was almost touching hers. Their breaths mingled. "Why do you haunt me?"
"Because I'm your destiny, Austin Lucas. You can't escape me."
She was right, he thought sadly. She was his destiny, but he wasn't hers. She belonged to a gentle man, someone who would cherish her innocence and giving spirit. Not Wayne, not even himself. Somewhere a stranger waited to claim his ladylove. But not tonight, he told himself fiercely. Tonight she was his.
He tugged on her hair, pulling her head back farther, exposing her neck. Bending over her, he kissed the skin beneath her ear, then moved lower to the hollow of her throat. He tasted her, licking and nibbling, enjoying her soft moans of pleasure. She trembled in his embrace and he was lost.
The madness overtook him, wiping out all thoughts of walking away. She clutched at his shoulders and ches
t, the diamonds in her ring catching the faint light from the kitchen and living room. The flash of brilliance reminded him that she was his wife. He had to claim her or die.
Releasing her hair, he slipped one arm under her legs and the other under her back. He swept her up in his arms simply because he could. She clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder. With quick kisses she traced the line of his collar, then tasted the place where his stubble gave way to smooth skin. She whispered his name, taming him for the moment, and exhaled her satisfaction.
As he crossed the living room, he glanced into her face. Her eyes were clear and trusting. She didn't fear him or their joining. Had he been a different kind of man, he might have read the flickering light as affection, perhaps even love, but he didn't want to know that. It would only make things more difficult later. He would take her to his bed, mark her, claim her, because she wanted him. That desire had taken away his ability to choose. He would pay any price, suffer any pain to have this night and as many nights as she would grant him before leaving. He would hold back the shattered bits of his heart, knowing they were an unworthy offering, and resist the need to pray for a miracle. As he'd said, he was long past saving.
He saw the open door to her bedroom, but he didn't take her there. Instead, he stopped in front of the king-size bed covered with the black satin comforter. How many nights had he lain awake remembering how she'd looked naked in his bed? He wanted her there again, only this time, instead of burning in the presence of a memory, he would feel her body against his.
Slowly he lowered her to her feet. She stared up at him, patiently waiting for him to lead the way. Her trust mocked his weakness. She was strong, fearless. It never occurred to her that the price for this moment would be high. She'd confessed to him the secrets of her life, of her soul, in an attempt to make him understand. He understood completely; it just didn't change anything. She lived by rules he didn't understand. He envied her simplistic belief.
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