by Megan Hart
"I'll do it." Hal slid the window open a crack, letting in a blast of blessedly frigid air. He sighed, sticking his face into the breeze. "That's better!"
"If you moved out of the way," Laila said crossly, "I might be able to get some, too!"
Hal gave her a sheepish grin and moved. "Better?"
She nodded, swallowing. Her head was beginning to throb terribly. The cloth was no longer cool, and no longer very damp.
"Let me see." The bed sank as Hal sat down next to her, taking the cloth away. "It looks better. Do you want some ice to put on it?"
"I think we need some ice," Laila said. "Not just for my eye either."
"I'll get some." Hal took her hand and helped her scoot back on the bed. "You lie down here. I'll take care of it."
It's nice, Laila reflected, being pampered. Hal turned the small television on, brought her aspirin and some cool water from the bathroom, and even plumped her pillows. He refreshed the damp cloth and helped her take off her shoes.
"I'll be right back," he said.
After he'd gone, Laila took the washcloth off her eye and probed the tender spot. It was going to be sore for a while, but the aspirin had started to kick in. She laid the pink-tinged cloth on the bedside table, then realized something weird. Something interesting, that made her feel even warmer than the room's tropic temperatures.
She'd been bleeding, but Hal hadn't noticed.
Chapter 6
Spending the night sweating and writhing around on his bed would have been fun, except, of course, that he'd done it alone. Hal sluiced cool water over himself, rinsing away the night's stickiness. Sleeping in the room had been like sleeping in a sauna.
He really wanted a shower, not a half-hearted soak in the claw-foot tub. Something brisk and refreshing to wake him up. He hadn't slept well. Between the heat and the erotic dreams he'd kept having about Laila, the hard and lumpy loveseat had seemed even more uncomfortable.
"Are you almost finished?" Laila rapped on the closed door. "I'm starving!"
"I'll be right out." Hal stepped out of the tub and toweled off. He brushed his teeth and ran his fingers through his hair, then opened the door.
Laila tapped the off button on the remote and laid it on top of the television. In the morning light, her eye looked even more horrific than it had the night before. Added to the swelled eye and cut brow were assorted other bruises on her cheek and forehead. He'd really nailed her.
She hadn't bothered trying to conceal the wounds with makeup either. Hal admired that. He knew her face would raise a lot of questions, but if Laila was willing to face them, so was he.
"Another day in the Alster family week of torture!" she intoned lightly. "Prepare yourself for another day of hiking, arts and crafts, and general merriment!"
"It hasn't been that bad," Hal said, watching her smile. He could watch her for hours.
"Not yet." Laila raised her uninjured brow. "There's still time."
"Starting with breakfast," Hal said.
She groaned, holding her stomach. "It's all too much!"
"Your family really isn't that bad," Hal told her.
Laila laughed. "I meant too much food, Hal. But thanks. They just haven't started the real grilling yet. Give them time."
Though the room was still stifling, the air outside was chill. Gray clouds hung low in the sky. Laila shivered as she stepped out and Hal joined her. It was more than just cold out here; it was downright bitter.
"I'm glad there's no ride scheduled for today," Laila remarked as they set off on the now-familiar path toward the main lodge. "I think I'm just going to stick by the fire."
That sounded good to Hal, too. Prop his feet up, read a good book. Laila would rest her head on his shoulder, and-- Whoa, he was getting carried away. Hal fought off the daydream. There was no sense in thinking about things that would only be fake, if they happened at all.
"'Morning!" Laila called to the table reserved for her family.
Hal braced himself for the comments on Laila's bruises, but none came. The table fell silent as they approached it. The subdued air was vastly different from the previous meals the family had shared.
Hal saw Laila's mother and Bubbe share a look as he and Laila sat down, but neither said anything. In fact, nobody said anything at all until little Henry spoke up.
"Gee, Aunt Laila," he said with syrup-smeared lips. "What happened to your face?"
"Henry!" Ruth snapped. "Don't bother Aunt Laila."
Laila's hand flew up to touch her eye. "I tripped," she said cheerfully, sliding into the chair next to Henry's. "Pretty clumsy, huh?"
"Did Dr. David help you with your eye like he helped me with my nose?" Henry asked solemnly, chewing on another mouthful of pancake.
Laila gave Hal a smile. "He sure did."
"I'll bet he did," Hal heard Eli mutter. Laila's brother got up from the table and tossed down his napkin. "I think I'm done. Sarah?"
Eli's wife gathered their three daughters and hiked their infant son up onto her hip. Hal couldn't be imagining the scowl she gave him. She looked like she wanted to slap him.
Ruth squeezed Laila's shoulder as she stood. "Let's talk," she stage-whispered.
"Okay," Laila said, her tone bewildered.
"Later," Ruth said with a glance at Hal that had his heart settling into his mismatched socks.
The table cleared quickly after that, with every one of Laila's relatives giving her sympathetic looks and scowling at Hal. Finally, they were the only two left at the table. Laila sat back in her chair with a bemused laugh.
"Do we smell bad?" she asked.
Hal took a listless sip of his orange juice. "I think they're mad at me."
"Already?" Laila hooted. "Damn, Hal, you're good. What did you do this time?"
"Well for starters," he said glumly, "I beat you."
"You..." Laila touched her face again. "Oh, I'm sure they don't think that."
He thought of the looks her family had given him. "Want to bet?"
She looked disturbed. "I want them to be happy I'm not going to marry you, not think you're evil."
He shrugged. "Did you look in the mirror today?"
"As little as possible." Laila curled her fingers over her his for just a moment. "Don't worry, Hal. It'll be okay."
"If you say so," Hal replied, but he didn't believe her.
As was the norm for Alster vacations, every spare moment of the day was crammed with things to do. Though they'd been abandoned at breakfast, Laila and Hal found themselves converged upon and dragged into every conceivable activity as the day went on.
First it was the Wang Dang Doodle Tango contest held in the games lounge. Complete with wacky DJ and themed decorations, the game attracted most of the resort's younger population.
So much for her quiet afternoon by the fire, Laila thought with a wince as the music screeched even louder.
After the tango contest, which neither she nor Hal managed to finish, Laila's mother insisted the two of them go with her to the crafts room to make pinecone bird feeders. Aside from the resort counselors, the three of them were the room's only adult occupants.
"It's just precious," Irene said, dangling Laila's glittery, peanut-buttery creation from its yarn loop. "You can hang it from a tree in your yard!"
"Mom," Laila said impatiently. "I don't have a backyard. I live in a townhouse."
"Whatever," Irene said airily, in a way that made Laila suspicious.
What exactly was going on? Had her family gone even nuttier than usual? Laila watched Hal fight with his pinecone. The peanut butter got all over his fingers, which he then promptly burned with the hot glue gun.
"I think we're done," Laila said wryly to the counselor who came over to check their progress.
"Good," said Irene firmly. She tugged Laila from the table, but ignored the struggling Hal. "Because it's time for the makeovers."
"Makeovers?" Laila stopped, resisting her mother's tugging. "What makeovers?"
"Bubbe sch
eduled them for all of us ladies," Irene said with a glance at Hal. "David will have to find something else to do."
"You go ahead, Laila," Hal said. He bit his lip in concentration, forcing the thin strand of yarn into a loop. It slipped from his fingers and he grabbed it angrily. "I want to finish this."
Had there ever been a more adorable man? Laila thought fondly, watching his efforts. Hal really was a nice guy. How a man could look sexy with a pinecone between his knees and peanut butter on his hands, Laila didn't know. But Hal did.
It wasn't until her mother locked the door to the ladies' spa room behind them that Laila began suspecting something more than just unusual nuttiness. Just as at breakfast, the room fell silent when she entered. Her sister, her mother, Bubbe, even her aunts and cousins just stared at her.
"What?" Laila asked.
"It's going to take a lot of makeup to cover up that," Bubbe said aloud.
Laila's laugh was forced. "This? It's nothing. Just a little bruise."
Bubbe snorted and shot a look at Irene. Laila didn't miss the silent communication, but she wasn't sure what it meant. Ruth snorted, too, in a perfect copy of Bubbe's, and Laila sighed in exasperation.
"Please," she said. "I'm fine!"
The woman dressed all in white cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Ladies? Are we ready?"
Bubbe flapped her hands and cast a dire glance at Laila. "Yes, Vera, let's get started already."
Getting started turned out to mean slathering gobs of white, noxious smelling cream all over their faces. Laila breathed through her mouth and tried to ignore the sting of the stuff against her scraped eyebrow. Slowly, the natural propensity of her female relatives to gossip and chatter overcame whatever had kept them silent before.
"Now, ladies," said Vera, holding up a small plate covered with more gobs of stuff. "Let's get started on the foundation."
"You know you can always talk to me about anything," Ruth whispered as she and Laila scrubbed their faces clean of the white cream.
"Sure, Ruthie, I know." Laila was startled when Ruth laid her hand on Laila's. Seeing Ruth's concerned look, Laila smiled to ease her mind. "I know."
"I know you know," Ruth said. She took a small jar of Vera's foundation. "But would you? Talk to me?"
"Sure I would," Laila said. She took a pot for herself. "If I had anything to talk about, which I don't."
Ruth sighed, dipping her finger into the goo and spreading it on her cheeks. "Just so you know I'm always here for you. That's all. If you need advice, or to talk. Are you sure you don't have something you need to tell me? Something--impending?"
Laila was touched by her sister's offer. "Thanks, Ruthie. But I'm fine. Really."
Ruth reached out and lightly brushed her fingers across Laila's brow. "That doesn't look fine."
So Hal was right. They did think he had beaten her. Laila thought of her last night with Ian, and the way he'd treated her. Nobody knew the truth about him, their relationship, or what had happened. Laila grabbed Ruth's hand and impulsively kissed her sister's fingers before pushing them away.
"I tripped. You act like H--David hit me or something."
Ruth didn't smile even though Laila had. "Didn't he?"
Laila rolled her eyes. "Of course not."
He'd just slammed his elbow into her eye, knocked her over, then landed on her. But that all had been an accident! Laila thought of the way he'd taken care of her afterwards, and couldn't stop a dreamy smile from painting itself on her lips.
Ruth lowered her voice, keeping their conversation to the small table they shared. "That's some bunch of bruises from just tripping."
Laila's smile faded. "I told you I'm fine."
Ruth peered into her mirror, globbing on the thick foundation as Vera lectured from the front of the room on how to apply the goop. "I'm just saying, that's all."
"Don't you believe me?" Laila asked, her voice a little loud. She saw her mother and Bubbe exchanging another of their looks, and she lowered her voice. "Ruth?"
Ruth paused in her smudging and feathering to look squarely at her. "Should I?"
"Yes!" Laila said adamantly.
Ruth stared for one intense moment before bending back to her makeup. Laila fumed. Why shouldn't her sister believe her? A guilty thought struck her. Unless she'd spent so much time lying to her family already that now even the truth had become unbelievable.
Laila's family had spent the entire day inventing reasons for them to be apart. Laila wasn't joking when she told him the grilling hadn't yet begun either. While the women whisked Laila off to makeovers, spa visits and aerobics classes, the men pounded Hal for answers.
What he hated most was the loathing in Eli's eyes when he cornered Hal.
"I love my sister," he said. "And I hope you don't think I'm going to let anything, or anybody, hurt her."
Hal had mumbled some sort of reply--one that didn't seem to impress Eli. Then he'd escaped back to the blistering room and holed up there until dinner. At least he'd been able to get the front desk to send someone to fix the radiator, so the room should be a comfortable temperature by bedtime.
They ate dinner again in the separate dining room. It was just as active and loud as the past nights had been, though this time Hal noticed everybody was ignoring him. He comforted himself with the thought that this was exactly what Laila wanted. Heck, if things kept going this way, they wouldn't even have to break up. Her family would run him out of town on a rail.
"You didn't eat very much," Laila said as they left the dining room.
While every one else was heading out for an evening dip in the pool or for other planned events, all Hal wanted to do was go back to the room. The thought of facing another firing line of stares and scowls was beginning to wear on him.
"Like you said, it's all too much."
They paused on the front porch. The temperature had dropped even further, and plumes of frosty air came out of their mouths with every breath. Hal snuck a glance at the porch swing where Laila had kissed him so passionately. Was it only last night?
"Look at those stars," Laila murmured from beside him.
From the door behind them they heard the bustle of people coming outside. Instantly, they reached for each other's hands. Laila chuckled softly when a group of resort guests unrelated to her passed them by.
"Habit," she said, as though in apology, but she didn't drop his hand.
The stars she'd mentioned were like bright diamonds set against a rippling curtain of black velvet. Even with the air so frigid, it was a sight to move even the least romantic of souls. It was a night made for snuggling under blankets and drinking cocoa. A night for making love in front of a roaring fire.
"Hey, look at that!" Laila pointed toward the front of the house, to the large circular driveway. "Carriage rides!"
"I don't suppose they'll have many takers tonight," Hal said.
Laila turned to look at him, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Let's go!"
"Now?"
"Yes, now," she teased. "Of course, now. Why not?"
"You want to go on a carriage ride with me?" Hal had to ask.
Laila pursed her lips. "Well, yeah. That's sort of the point, Hal."
He nodded firmly, feeling suddenly better than he had all day. "All right, then!"
Just as they reached the carriage, Frank and Ruth appeared out of the night. "There you are," Ruth said. "We've been looking for you all over."
"If you want to drag us into some lame game again, forget it," Laila said, though with good humor.
"Bubbe's arranged a karaoke party," Ruth said. "Come on. It's going to be hilarious."
"Have a good time," Laila said, and motioned for Hal to get into the carriage. She climbed up beside him. "We're going to take a carriage ride."
"I really think you should come with us," Ruth said. "Laila?"
"Nope, sorry," Laila said. She laughed. "All of you have been working hard all day at keeping me and H--honeybuns apart. Now we're going to take a carriage
ride. Alone."
"But we really want--" Ruth began, but Laila tapped the driver's shoulder to urge him on.
"Later," Laila called.
The carriage pulled away, the wheels crunching on the gravel path it followed into the meadow. The driver asked them how long a ride they wanted, and seemed pleased when Laila replied as long as he wanted to drive, they'd be willing to ride. After that, it was as though they were alone in the carriage under the stars.
"Honeybuns?" Hal said finally.
Laila tugged the plaid blanket more firmly across their knees. "I had to think of something, quick. You know what I almost said."
"Honeybuns." Hal grinned. "I like it."
Laila punched his arm gently. "You'd better. I'm going to have to call you that from now on."
"I've been called worse."
Laila sighed, settling back against the seat. The carriage was small, just large enough for two people with the driver in front. With every movement of the horses, Hal and Laila rubbed against each other. Hal found he didn't mind that at all.
"It's so beautiful out here," Laila said wistfully, staring up into the night sky. "I wish I didn't have to go back."
"Back to Bramblewood? Or back to work?" Hal asked. The carriage hit a bump, rocking them together. He slipped his arm around her shoulders to help cushion her from future rough terrain.
"Both." Laila snuggled down further against him, deeper into the blankets.
"Me, too."
She squirmed around until she could look up at him. In the starlight, her eyes were luminous. "You mean you're not all excited about heading back to LoveMatch?"
Hal blew out a gust of air that steamed his glasses. "Yeah, right. I'm so successful at it."
Laila nudged him. "I think you're pretty successful at it."
Hal drew her in closer. "Laila, I'm glad you..." He paused, aware of the driver, who, though silent, must still be listening to every word. "I'm glad you chose me as your fiancé."
The wording was benign enough nobody could possibly guess that their pairing had been a financial and not a romantic one. Laila seemed to understand his careful sentence. She nodded, then rested her head on his shoulder.
