by Sara Wood
‘I chopped those,’ she said, desperate to lighten the oppressive atmosphere. ‘My axe technique’s improved over the years.’
His head lifted but he didn’t look at her. ‘I’m not in the mood to chat. Please go. I can lock up,’ he said icily, his profile taut and uncompromising.
She bristled. ‘I thought I’d better wait up because—’
His eyes blazed at her, black and glittering. ‘I’m not a child!’
‘But I made up a bed for you!’ she protested tremulously. ‘You wouldn’t have known where to sleep…’ She stopped, cut short by his irritable sigh.
‘It didn’t matter. I would have curled up on the sofa,’ he said dismissively.
‘But you would have been uncomfortable—’
‘Laura! That’s my problem, not yours!’ He paused, gazing at her in consternation. ‘I thought you knew me better,’ he reproached.
She was shocked by her reaction to his disappointment. She wanted to understand him, to please him. And she had no idea what she’d done wrong.
‘Don’t live my life,’ he went on, his face tight with restraint. ‘Don’t fit me into your ordered, conventional routine!’
‘I was being thoughtful,’ she said unhappily.
He looked at her helplessly. ‘I know. You were. Hell. Where do I begin? We both lived in this house for five years and you have no idea about me, do you?’
‘We weren’t close,’ she sulked.
But, she realised to her astonishment, she’d always longed to be.
‘OK. It was a misunderstanding. You were being kind—but I had no idea you’d take it on yourself to look after me. I thought—wrongly—that you knew me better and you’d leave me to my own devices. It never occurred to me that you’d prepare a bed for me—so you can’t be annoyed with me for keeping you up.’
‘No. Suppose not,’ she muttered grudgingly.
He sighed. ‘I don’t know where to begin. Look, I can see it’s hard for you to understand how I live—but please don’t think you need to run around after me. I’ve slept on mud floors and bare mountains. I can take care of myself. To be honest, I’m not comfortable with being fussed over. It’s…stifling. It’s up to me if I eat pudding or not and it’s my fault if I’m hungry as a consequence. I’m an adult. If I choose, I can stay out till morning, sleep downstairs or even outside in a field if I want.’
She was beginning to see his point of view. And she had known how independent he was. Unfortunately habit died hard, and the arrival of guests meant looking after them. She’d forgotten that Cassian wasn’t an ordinary man.
‘I understand,’ she said, subdued.
Did he ever need anyone? Flashing into her mind came the unexpected thought that she wanted to care for him, to make him comfortable, happy. But he’d loathe that! She bit her lip and vowed not to push the lone-wolf Cassian into a domestic straitjacket.
‘I know I’m difficult, Laura,’ he said ruefully. ‘I did warn you. I’ve inherited from my mother an abhorrence of being organised.’
She smiled and lifted bright eyes to his. ‘Oh, yes! I remember her yelling at Father about that! I won’t do it again. You can organise yourself in future. But…if you happen to be passing the back room any time, you’ll see I’ve made up a bed for you there. You won’t have to cosy up to a sheep tonight,’ she said lightly.
‘Thank you. I appreciate your trouble. Goodnight.’
He hadn’t smiled back at her attempt at levity. His tone was tight and strained and she knew he wanted to be alone.
‘Goodnight,’ she said, unwilling to go.
She almost told him what time breakfast would be, but realised he’d expect to sort himself out. He didn’t need anyone. Especially her.
Upset at that thought, she left the room, her bare feet silent on the cold stone. Back in the sitting room Cassian gave a harsh exhalation of breath and she hesitated, her pulses racing.
‘Hell!’ he muttered in the silence. His voice had broken up as if emotion was choking him. ‘Give me strength,’ he growled shakily.
Laura was appalled. Was he pleading for strength to cope with her? She listened, her ears straining in the stillness of the night.
‘You nerd. It’s a cupboard,’ she heard him mutter.
And her heart seemed to leap to her throat. The cupboard. He’d been banished there more times than she could remember. It had been unlit then, with a freezing stone floor and huge spiders.
Cassian was testing himself. That’s the kind of man he was. Before he felt able to stay here, he needed to come to terms with the harshness of his treatment at Thrushton.
Her eyes darkened as her tender heart went out to him. And yet…if he did conquer the past then she would definitely find herself without a home. From her point of view it might be better if Cassian never overcame the bad memories which filled the silent corners of the house.
She could leave him to it. Hope that he discovered he hated the atmosphere still, and that the reminders of her adoptive father and her aunt were too powerful even for him to be comfortable with.
But even as that thought raced through her head, she knew she had to help him. His distress cut into her very heart and nothing would stop her from offering solace, not even his scorn or his anger.
Soundlessly, she tiptoed back to the doorway, initially keeping well hidden in the shadows.
As she’d expected, he stood in front of the cupboard, his fists tightly clenched, his shoulders high. A rush of emotion hurtled through her. This had been his hell. And she couldn’t just walk upstairs when her soul was reaching out to him in sympathy.
Quietly she crossed the soft carpet and stood so close to him that their arms touched. For a moment it seemed that he leaned nearer, though she might have been the one to do so. The fact that he hadn’t yelled at her was encouraging and she even believed that his tense muscles had relaxed a little.
‘Don’t do this, not now,’ she whispered into the thick, cloying silence.
‘I must.’
Stricken by his choked reply, she astonished herself by putting an understanding hand on his increasingly rigid back. Looking up at him, she saw that his jaw was set and his eyes seemed distant as if he remembered every incident, each indignity, the slaps and the punishments which had made up his days.
With a suddenness that took her by surprise, he lurched forwards and wrenched open the cupboard door. The breath became strangled in her throat. His face was white and he was sweating, beads of perspiration standing out on his forehead.
Her fist went to her mouth. ‘Oh, Cassian!’ she whispered.
He didn’t speak. For a long, agonising time he stared into the black recesses of the deep cupboard and she relived her own terror of all those years ago when he’d nonchalantly walked in there, his head held high in defiance as if he were entering a paradise.
The hackles rose on the back of Laura’s neck. For the freedom-loving Cassian this must have been a terrible ordeal.
Seconds ticked past and his facial muscles tightened till she couldn’t bear it. ‘Cassian—’
‘Shut me in.’
She jerked in a shocked breath. ‘What?’
‘Do it.’
He stepped in and turned, his eyes commanding her.
‘No!’ she breathed in horror.
He glowered, his jaw clenched. ‘Do it!’ he commanded.
She gulped. And knew she must. Mesmerised, she clasped the latch in a shaking hand and slowly closed the door. Aghast, she stared at the oak panels with wide, anxious eyes. For several long minutes she waited, cold and shivering, her pulse thundering in her ears as she imagined what must be going through his mind.
There was a light knock on the door. With relief she stumbled forwards to open it again and Cassian emerged: shaking, breathing heavily, but with the light of triumph in his eyes. Laura gave a little cry and ran to him, briefly hugging him before moving back in confusion.
‘You’re freezing!’ he said with a frown. He reached out and rubbe
d her arms.
‘I’m all right,’ she croaked, still reeling from the feel of his strong body against hers. ‘Are you?’
‘Fine.’
His hands were slowing and warmth was flowing into her—though it was nothing to do with any external temperature. She picked off spider threads from his shirt and suddenly felt overcome with the intimacy of such an action.
‘I was just worried about you,’ she babbled.
‘I was OK. I’ll put a key on the inside so no one can ever be locked in. It’s all in the past, now.’
‘I really didn’t want to shut that door. It wasn’t your favourite place of all time. Was it really awful, being locked in there when you were a kid?’ she asked, and could have kicked herself for such stupidity. Of course it had been awful.
‘It was a lesson.’
Puzzled, her small face lifted to his. And she saw the strength there, the fierce willpower which she had always admired and envied.
‘In what?’ she asked in awe.
‘Detachment. Mind over matter.’
‘But you must have dreaded going in there each time,’ she persisted, for some reason wanting him to acknowledge the horror of sitting in a small, dark cupboard on a solid stone floor for hours on end.
‘Sometimes, Laura,’ he said huskily, ‘you have to face your fears to become stronger.’
‘But…’ Her face grew perplexed. ‘Everywhere you look in this house you must see things you’d rather forget.’
‘If you can live here,’ he said softly, ‘so can I.’
‘I’m different—’
‘You can say that again,’ he murmured wryly.
She flushed, wishing they weren’t light years away from one another. But persisted with her point. ‘We are total opposites. You and your mother were like…like wild birds!’ she exclaimed. ‘You both craved freedom! I, however, have always been tractable—’
‘Laura. Don’t be mistaken; we are all passionate about the things we love.’ His hot, dark eyes burned into hers till the breath came short and fast in her throat and she could feel the increased pressure of his hands around her arms. ‘Even you. You are passionate about your son—’
‘Am I?’ she breathed in amazement.
‘Fiercely. Your love for him overrides everything else.’ His smile dazzled her, sending her nerves into a tailspin. ‘As for me, I don’t know why I have to be here, only that I felt an irresistible pull the moment Tony mentioned the house. And,’ he went on huskily, ‘when I saw the sun on the fells, glinting on the drystone walls and Thrushton nestling on the slopes, my heart leapt in my body. I need to be here and I will come to terms with my past. That is just a cupboard and it holds no terrors for me any more. I must live here to make this house ordinary in my mind again. I think it’s part of my rites of passage.’
She grasped that, but would never fully understand him, she thought, stunned by how sad that made her feel. She would never know what drove him, pleased him, made him tick. Would never reach the impenetrable depths which made him so fascinating and desirable.
The past and the present collided. Tension had torn at her nerves making them raw. Cassian always unsettled her, turned her life upside down, upset her. She began to cry silently but didn’t know why, and turned away blindly so that he didn’t suspect.
But he knew. His hands were on her shoulders, strong, firm, comforting. Gently he coaxed her around and then suddenly she seemed to be crushed against him, weeping quietly into his shoulder.
‘I—I’m sorry!’ she mumbled in dismay, trying to pull back. He resisted her efforts and she was secretly glad. ‘I shouldn’t—’
His finger lifted her chin and she did her best to stop her stupid sobbing. ‘If you need to cry, then cry,’ he said softly. ‘There’s no point in bottling it up.’
There was. Miserably she blinked in a heroic effort to stem the flood, her tongue desperately mopping up any tears which headed near her mouth. Something told her that if she really let go, then all her carefully constructed world would start falling apart.
‘I have to stay in control!’ she mumbled.
‘Why?’
‘Of course I must! Everyone should! Where’d we be otherwise?’ she said wildly.
‘Laura!’ he husked.
His hand slid around to cradle her jaw. Through the veil of tears she could see that his eyes were bright, his lips parted in consternation.
There was a tenderness in his expression which made her heart lurch. Suddenly she felt giddy, as if she were being lifted off her feet by a whirling wind and carried into the sky. Her eyes seemed to be closing of their own accord. The sensation persisted, even intensified and she had the impression that there was no solid ground beneath her feet any more.
She could smell him. A wonderful, alien, male smell that tantalised her nostrils and increased the beat of her heart. Beneath her palms his chest was firm, the pressure of his body a delight.
A soft sigh escaped her as she revelled in the contrast between his masculine strength and her own soft yielding.
‘Cassian,’ she found herself murmuring.
His embrace enfolded her more securely and she felt an extraordinary elation. Although she was intensely aware of her nakedness beneath the robe and thin cotton nightdress it didn’t bother her.
Drowsily her eyes opened. A sudden rush of warm breath raced over her face and she tensed expectantly, straining upwards for the wonderful moment when their mouths would meet.
‘Would you…?’
Laura smiled invitingly, delighted by his huskiness. ‘Mmm?’ she prompted gently.
He cleared his throat. ‘Would you like my handkerchief or are you all right now?’ he shot out.
They both stepped back from one another; Cassian’s expression unreadable, hers transparent with disappointment till she managed to haul the shreds of her tattered dignity about her again.
‘I’m OK,’ she lied jerkily, avoiding his horribly perceptive eyes.
OK? Her whole body was screaming for him, like a child having a tantrum because it has been deprived of a favourite toy.
‘I don’t know why I cried—’ she mumbled.
‘You don’t need a reason. Or to give me one,’ he said softly.
‘I’m not a wimp—’ she began.
‘I know. I think you’re brave.’
She met his eyes then, and found herself caught by them. ‘Brave?’ she squeaked, feeling her body reaching melting point again.
‘Strong, too, and determined. It can’t have been easy, bringing up Adam on your own with Enid presumably breathing fire and brimstone and calling all kinds of damnation on your head.’
She gave a wry smile. ‘It was a bit like that.’
‘You could have given him up for adoption,’ he suggested.
‘Never!’ she declared in horror. ‘He was my baby! I loved him from the start. I’d have sooner cut out my heart than give him away!’
‘I thought so,’ he said gently. ‘Laura, I want you to listen to me very carefully. This is important.’
He was smiling at her. She responded with one of her own and was thrilled when she saw a glow light up his eyes.
Kiss me, she told him, with every ounce of her being.
‘I’m listening,’ she said, deceptively demure. And intensely hopeful.
Cassian touched his lips with the tip of his tongue and Laura swallowed, her eyes huge with longing.
‘I believe in Kismet. Fate,’ he said thickly.
It had brought him here. ‘Me too,’ she breathed, her face radiant.
Tight-jawed, he folded his arms, a gesture which immediately put a barrier between them. Laura’s hopes and dreams began to fade.
‘My arrival releases you,’ Cassian said, still hoarse, but perhaps with embarrassment and not desire.
Laura stared in dismay, her mouth suddenly unruly and refusing to obey when she tried to stop it quivering.
‘From…what?’ she mumbled with difficulty.
‘Every
thing that’s kept you here. For you,’ Cassian continued more curtly, ‘the next journey in life is to shake off the shackles of this house and this village and to take your son and yourself somewhere new.’
‘No!’ she cried in horror.
He frowned down at her, no longer someone she could trust, but a cold and determined stranger.
‘You are strong and you are brave, and your devotion to Adam will ensure that you both survive. I know you can do it,’ he rasped. ‘I’ll give you a week to tell Adam and to get used to the idea. After that, you’re out on your ear.’
CHAPTER SIX
THE sound of music woke her, seeping through the house with a soft insistence. Glancing in outrage at the bedside clock she saw it was only six-thirty.
Wretched Cassian! She needed that extra half-hour after tossing and turning all night, seething with anger at how badly she’d misread Cassian’s intentions! Far from being close to kissing her, he’d been searching for a way to tell her she wasn’t welcome in his house.
And now she was horribly, thoroughly awake.
Muttering under her breath, she dived into the bathroom and showered, dressed and made her bed all in record time. And apart from the few moments when she wielded her toothbrush with unusual vigour, her teeth were angrily clamped together for the whole fifteen minutes.
As she passed Adam’s room, she saw that the bed was already made. That meant Cassian had woken him too!
Determined to lay down a few ground rules before putting over her housekeeping plan, she stomped down the stairs, astonished to be met by the delicious smell of bacon.
And then she was confronted by the shocking sight of Adam, scarlet in the face—a fever, perhaps—and yet he was checking the six rashers sizzling gently on the grill which he was holding at a very careful arm’s length.
She gasped. He was ill. Alone. Cooking without supervision! Of all the reckless, thoughtless…
‘Adam!’ she exclaimed. ‘What the—?’
‘Hi, Mum! Shall I do you some?’
She didn’t know where to begin her tirade. She identified the source of the music. It came from a small, state of the art personal stereo. The wonderful swelling sound was washing gently through her brain, doing its best to soothe her temper.
