Teaching Abby (Lone Star Family Values)

by Goldie Ledbury

  Abby shook his hand warily. “Abby Proudfoot. Pleased to meet you.” Mac had told him she had hurt her face? She relaxed imperceptibly, even as she thought vengeful thoughts about what she’d do to Mac for putting her in this position.

  “Now then, my dear, Mac is going to wait outside while I check you over. Okay, Mac?”

  For a moment, it looked as if he was going to argue, then he gave a sharp nod and left the room.

  “All right, my dear,” the doctor said kindly, “take a seat.”

  She sat, feeling uncomfortable.

  “Now then, first of all I must stress that everything said in a doctor’s consultation is confidential. Whatever we discuss in here won’t go back to Mac or anyone else.”

  Abby tensed. Why had the doctor felt the need to tell her that?

  “So, to start, let me take a look at your face. It looks like you might have quite a shiner coming on there.”

  He was thorough; she’d give him that, she thought, after he’d checked her cheekbones, jaw, eyes and ears. When he’d finished, he sat down, frowning. “I don’t think there’s any permanent damage,” he said evenly. “But in my experience, bumps on the face normally occur after bumps elsewhere. Why don’t you let me check the rest, just so I can make sure you’re all right?”

  For a frozen moment, Abby just stared at him, and then she gave a weary sigh. He was right. Her father had been difficult, and increasingly violent, for weeks. Her body felt sore all over, and some of the bruising was so severe that she had been worrying about it. At least a doctor would be able to reassure her that no permanent damage had been done.

  “Did Mac tell you?”

  Dr. Taylor shook his head. “You’re moving in that cautious way that people do when they’re hurting,” he said.

  “You won’t tell–”

  “No.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the examination was complete. Dr. Taylor sat at his desk and looked at the trembling young woman opposite. “Well, the good news is that you haven’t broken any bones,” he said shortly. “You have extensive bruising, but you will heal. The bad news is that you have bruises that look like fingers marks on your arms and thighs that suggest that someone tried to force you sexually.”

  There was a long silence. He watched the blood drain from her face, even as she wrapped her arms defensively around herself.

  “I’m sorry to ask you this, my dear, but did he succeed? Because if so, there are other tests we need to do…”

  “I… no,” she choked out, mortified and ashamed. “He tried, but I managed to fight him off.”

  “You must have been very frightened.”

  “Yes.”

  The tears came unbidden then, and Dr. Taylor silently passed her a box of tissues. It was good that she was crying; mental healing would only occur once she had dealt with the shock of the situation.

  After a while, once she had calmed, he said, “We should report this to the police.”

  “Oh! No…”

  “But he might try to do it to someone else.”

  Abby’s eyes fell. “He won’t.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because he... the man who did it, is ill. He didn’t know what he was doing. I’m… not looking after him alone, any more.”

  “I see.” Dr. Taylor thought for a while, and then seemed to come to a decision. “You’ll need painkillers,” he said finally. “I’ve got some here I can give you. And Mac… would you object if I told him you’re okay but fragile, and need to take it easy for a couple of weeks?”

  Abby nodded. “That would be all right.”

  “I’ll give you a number for a counselor, as well,” he said gently. “Either now, or later, it might benefit you to talk to someone. This lady is very good.”

  Abby took the number and thanked the doctor. There was no way she could afford to pay a counselor; she could barely pay for groceries. And the thought of talking to anyone about what had happened was an anathema to her. But maybe in the future she would feel differently, she thought, putting the number in her bag.

  Half an hour later, Dr. Taylor had spoken to Mac and given her the relevant medication. Abby stalked out to the car with Mac, inwardly furious at him for taking her to a doctor without any warning or discussion. Even if the visit had benefited her, she felt enormous resentment at the highhanded way he’d done it.

  They got in the car in tense silence. Mac turned to talk to her. “Abby–”

  “Don’t. Don’t talk to me.”

  “Look, I’m sorry if you think I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

  She gave him a fulminating look. “You shouldn’t have brought me here. Not without asking me first. How dare you put me in that position?” Her voice rose as she worked herself up. “You embarrassed me, you were high handed, overbearing–”

  “Whoa! Now just a minute. What did you expect me to do? You were hurt, I didn’t know how badly–”

  “It’s only a black eye!”

  “Don’t lie to me! When you came out of your father’s room, you were holding your breast as well as your face. What did he do to you, Abby?”

  “Nothing! He did nothing to me, you’re mistaken–”

  Mac reached out suddenly towards her breast, and instinctively, she flinched back towards the door. Mac breathed deeply. “I’m not an idiot, Abby,” he said roughly. “I know what I saw. And you wouldn’t be that jumpy if there was nothing wrong.”

  Abby bit her lip, well aware that she’d given herself away. “What do you expect me to do? I’m not used to being in cars with men who try to paw me. That’s got nothing to do with my father. That’s to do with you being a pervert!”

  “What!” For a moment, he just stared at her, and then his own temper triggered. “How dare you? If you were mine, I’d put you over my knee for a remark like that!”

  “I’d like to see you try! So, you beat women as well as being an arrogant, dictatorial–”

  “Beat women!”’ For a moment, he looked absolutely shocked. “Is that really how you see me?”

  “You said it! You said you’d put me over your knee.”

  “For a spanking, not to beat you!”

  “So, what’s the difference? Either way, you’d be hitting me.” She stopped, suddenly calming down. “Is that what men do with women? Hurt them?”

  Mac went pale. “Is that what your father did to you?”

  Abby’s eyes glittered with tears; she refused to look at him. He stared at her in dawning horror. “He didn’t–”

  “No!”

  “But he tried?”

  With a choked gasp, she scrambled out of the car. Mac was behind her in an instant, catching her before she was half way across the car lot. She cried out in pain as he grabbed her arm, and he let go instantly. “I didn’t grab you that tightly!” he ground out, and taking hold of her, he thrust her sleeve up her arm. The five black bruises in the shape of finger marks screamed at him.

  Abby stood perfectly still.

  He stepped back, his face grey.

  Abby felt sick.

  Slowly, he pulled her sleeve back down, covering the bruises. “Abby, if I promise you have nothing to fear from me, will you get back in the car with me?”

  Abby looked at him, slowly. His ashen complexion looked haggard, and his own hands were shaking. He looked as if everything in his world had ground to a sudden stop. “Yes,” she said, and heard him release a shuddering breath.

  They walked back to the car together in silence. Abby glanced up at him, perturbed at the bleakness in his expression.

  He halted just before they reached the vehicle, turning to her. “Abby, I know this might be the wrong thing at the wrong time, so say no if you want, but just now, all I want to do is hug you.”

  “What?”

  “Please. Sweetheart. Just a hug. The thought of you being hurt is killing me.”

  She hesitated. There was nothing more in the world she would like than the comfort of a hug just now. But to be so close to
him after all these years of daydreaming and wishing, would be torture.

  Even so, she might never have the opportunity to be so close to him again. She could live forever on the memory of him in her arms.

  She nodded. With a muffled groan, he gathered her up in his arms, pulling her gently towards his warm, firm body. His arms went around her as he pressed her head against his chest, his big, work-roughened hands tangling in her long, chestnut hair. She felt his head lower, and he dropped a light kiss on her hair. “Oh, honey,” he whispered roughly. “I could kill him for hurting you.”

  She shook her head. “He’s my father. He was always wonderful to me, and I love him. He can’t help what happened.”

  “No, I know.” He stroked her back softly. “Did he…”

  She sighed. “He tried,” she admitted. “But I got away.”

  He expelled a harsh breath. “Promise me you won’t go into his room without someone else with you from now on,” he said. “I couldn’t stand to have you hurt again.”

  “I promise,” she said quietly.

  For a moment, she rested quietly against him, listening to the powerful beat of his heart, feeling his gentle warmth and breathing in his clean, masculine scent. It was wonderful. After months and months of feeling unsafe and alone, she could finally, for a moment, relax.

  If only they were a couple. The secret longing crept unbidden into Abby’s mind. Not just for the feeling of security he gave her, wonderful though that was. She pressed closer to him. No, somehow she felt as if the world was right when she was with him. As if he were her other half. A fanciful notion she knew, but there it was. That was how she felt.

  Mac felt the easing of tension in Abby’s small body, and closed his eyes. Every protective instinct he had – and he had a lot – was screaming over the abuse Abby had endured. He wanted to protect her and care for her. He wanted to feel her in his arms, secure and loved. He wanted to marry her.

  The realization slid over him like a warm blanket on a cold night. For years he had been drawn to her, always wishing he could get closer to her. Her father had talked about her a lot, especially over their long games of chess, and he had always been hungry for more information. Mac suspected that Ethan had been fully aware of his feelings, and had been supportive of them. But, like Calla, he had always explained Abby’s evasiveness as shyness.

  Not that she seemed all that shy now, he reflected. Admittedly, she’d had little choice but to interact with him, but she had not hesitated to express her feelings in an extremely forthright way. But if she wasn’t shy, why had she always avoided him?

  As she pressed her small body closer to him, he felt his body react sharply. There was something about her that was so feminine, so appealing, so arousing…

  Abruptly, he moved her away from him. After a revelation like the one she’d just shared, the last thing she needed was an awareness of his attraction to her.

  Surprised at the sudden withdrawal, Abby looked up. Mac’s face looked flushed. And then he smiled down at her, his warm brown eyes laughing. “Abby, I’m starving,” he said simply. “Do you fancy going for something to eat?”

  Chapter 2

  Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at a pleasant looking bistro on the edge of town. Mac parked the car and looked at her. “Ready for lunch?”

  “Yes. I– oh!” Her face fell, and she flushed. “My face. Perhaps you should just go in and–”

  “Oh! Yes, I forgot.” Mac reached over and picked up the pharmacy bag from the back seat. “This is for you.”

  He handed her the bag, and she peered in dubiously. Inside, there were several tubes and bottles. “What are they?” she asked.

  He smiled, taking the bag from her. “This, my lady, is your magic makeover bag.”

  “It is?”

  “Uh-huh. The pharmacy sold cosmetics as well as medicine.”

  “Oh.” Abby’s heart sank. She never used cosmetics herself, and had no idea how to apply them.

  As if he could read her mind, he said casually, “When I was in the army, they taught us how to use camouflage makeup. I realize it’s not quite the same, but the principle is similar. And my mother used to use cosmetics a lot. If she ever had a blemish, it was the end of the world. I used to watch her put on her ‘face’. Would you let me… put some on you?”

  She looked at him doubtfully. Could he really apply cosmetics effectively? But then, he wasn’t likely to do a worse job than she would herself. Bracing, she said, “Do your worst.”

  He laughed, and then said diffidently, “Maybe it would be best if I showed you how it works first. Would you mind if I demonstrated on your arm?”

  “My arm?”

  He reached out and took her hand, slowly pushing her sleeve up. She realized he was going to work on one of her bruises, and bit her lip.

  Rummaging in the bag, he extracted a tube. As he squeezed it, green lotion emerged.

  Abby frowned. “Green?”

  “Uh-huh. I always thought this bit was amazing when I was a kid.”

  Gently, he massaged the lotion into her bruise. To her amazement, the mottled red and purple coloring faded to a pale grey.

  “Wow.”

  “Uh huh. The green pigment counteracts the red. Clever, huh?”

  She stared at her arm, disbelievingly. “It certainly is.”

  “But that’s not all…”

  A bottle appeared, containing skin-colored liquid. He stroked some of the fluid lightly over the area and her body clenched at the feel of his soft fingers on her arm. Before her eyes, the bruise vanished altogether.

  “And now for the final touch,” he said triumphantly, drawing out a compact and brush, “Fixing powder!”

  “What’s that for?”

  Mac swirled the brush in the powder, tapped off the excess and drew the brush lightly over her arm. The powder settled invisibly over the surface. “There. The powder stops any of the makeup rubbing off. You’d have to deliberately wash it with soap and water now to get it off.”

  She shook her head, impressed. “That’s just… astonishing.”

  “Told you. Oh ye of little faith.”

  She grinned. “Okay, you’ve officially impressed me.”

  “Want me to do your face?”

  “Go on then.” She held still as his gentle fingers stroked on lotion with the lightest of touches. The whisper of sensation made her gasp. She raised vulnerable blue eyes to his.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No. It feels… nice.”

  She heard his indrawn breath, and for a moment his fingers paused, then carried on their light caress. “Your skin is beautiful,” he murmured, stroking on more fluid. “It’s like touching silk.”

  “It’s bruised.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  For an eternity, she sat still, letting his fingers slide over her soft skin. He was touching her so impossibly lightly, yet the faintness of the sensation just seemed to make her more acutely sensitive. Inside, she felt heat building and a strange, squirming sensation in the pit of her stomach. Sitting so close to him, she could see his brown eyes, intent on their task, framed by the most impossibly long dark lashes. His skin, unlike hers, was tougher, and she could see a faint five o’clock shadow. His jaw was hard, and looked almost as if it was clenched. He was breathing deeply. She shifted uneasily in her seat, feeling tense and strange. Inhaling his scent, she wished desperately that he were hers, that she could kiss him, draw him into her arms. Being so close to him like this was torture.

  “Nearly finished,” he said, picking up the makeup brush. Abby’s eyes flickered shut to block out the sight of his handsome face, but the breath of sensation as the soft brush caressed her face made her stomach clench, hard.

  Her eyes flew open just as he put the brush down.

  “There. Finished,” he said huskily. There was a tremor in his hands as he put the tubes back in the bag, but he acted normally enough as he glanced up and said, “You can look in the mirror now. See what you
think.” He flipped the passenger side sun visor down for her, revealing a small mirror. Jenna’s eyes widened as she saw her face, completely restored to normal. “Happy?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  “I’m glad.” She turned to smile at him, and then her eyes widened as he gently lowered his head, and dropped the lightest of kisses on her soft mouth. Before she had time to react, he’d drawn away. “Lunch?”

  “Yes. Absolutely. Lunch.”

  The meal was delicious. It appeared that the bistro was a regular haunt of Mac’s, because the Italian proprietor greeted him like an old friend, and gave them the best table in the house.

  “Mac, it’s wonderful to see you again. Where have you been?” exclaimed the man, who had introduced himself as Giuseppe.

  Mac smiled, easily. “I’ve been away on business for six months. Glad to say I’m back home to stay now, though.”

  “Good. And your beautiful companion?”

  “This is Abby. A very good friend of mine.”

  Giuseppe beamed. It was obvious that he thought they were a couple. “Well, Abby, normally Mac comes in here with lots of whiskery cattlemen. You are a great improvement,” he said conspiratorially, and Abby laughed.

  Over a delicious meal, Mac kept the conversation light, chatting about recent films he’d seen and books he’d read. He knew that Abby was an avid reader, and he’d heard from several people what an amazing job she’d done at the library of encouraging children and teenagers to come in and read. “Not only that,” one of his ranch hands had said, “She’s really good at suggesting things she thinks you might like. Gave me a western by Tom W. Blackburn that’s a real doozy.”

  As he’d half expected, once he mentioned what he was reading, she was caught, and they spent a happy hour discussing their favorite books and authors. Finally, they finished their meal.

  “I’m going to order coffee,” he said easily. “I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. Would you like desert?”

  Abby shook her head. “I don’t, either. I think I’ll go for coffee, too.”

  “Right.”