CHAPTER SIX
MAC WAS LYING IN BED WONDERING what Jewel would do if he crossed the hall, knocked on her door and told her he wanted to make love to her. She would probably think he had lost his mind. He had to resist the urge to pursue her. Jewel didn’t need a fumbling, first-time lover. He, of all people, knew how much she needed a kind, considerate, knowledgeable bed partner. Which, of course, he wasn’t.
She needed a slow hand, an easy touch—wasn’t that what the song said? He had a lot of pent-up passion, a lot of celibate years to make up for. He was afraid the first time for him was going to be fast and hard. Which might be fine for him. But not for her.
Mac wished he didn’t have such vivid memories of what had happened to Jewel that day in July six years ago. Any man who had seen her after Harvey Barnes had attacked her…He made himself think the word. After Harvey Barnes had raped her…
He had never wanted to kill a man before or since. He had been there to come to her rescue because he had seen Harvey drinking too much and worried about her, like a brother might worry about his sister. Jewel would have pounded him flat if she’d known he had followed her and Harvey when they slipped off into the trees down by the river.
He had kept his distance, even considered turning around and heading back to the noise of the carnival rides at the picnic, which seemed a world away from the soothing rustle of leaves down by the river. He had heard her laugh and then…silence.
He figured Harvey must be kissing her. He was standing at the edge of the river skipping stones, thinking he’d been an idiot to follow her, when he heard her cry out. Even then, he hadn’t been sure at first whether it was a cry of passion.
The second cry had chilled his blood and started him running toward the sound. He could remember the feeling of terror as he searched frantically for her amid the thick laurel bushes and the tangle of wild ivy at the river’s edge, calling her name and getting no answer.
There were no more cries. He saw why when he finally found them. Harvey had his hand pressed tight over Jewel’s mouth, and she was struggling vainly beneath him. He saw something white on the ground nearby and realized it was her underpants.
He might have killed Harvey, if Jewel hadn’t stopped him. He hadn’t even been aware of his hands clenched in the flesh at Harvey’s throat. It was only Jewel’s anguished voice in his ear, pleading with him, that made him stop before he strangled the life out of the boy.
Harvey was nearly unconscious by the time Mac finally let go and turned to Jewel. Seeing her torn, grass-stained dress and the trickle of blood coming from her lip enraged him all over again. Jewel whimpered with fear—of him, he realized suddenly—and the fight went out of him.
He started toward her to hold her, to comfort her, but she clutched her arms tight around herself, turned her back to him and cried, “Don’t touch me! Don’t look at me!”
His heart was thudding loudly in his chest. “Jewel,” he said. “You need to go to the hospital. Let me find your parents—”
She whirled on him and rasped, “No! Please don’t tell anybody.”
“But you’re hurt!”
“My father will kill him,” she whispered.
He could understand that. He had almost killed Harvey Barnes himself. Then she gave the reason that persuaded him to keep his silence.
“Everyone will know,” she said, her brown eyes stark. “I couldn’t bear it, Mac. Please. Help me.”
“We’ll have to say something to explain that cut on your lip,” he said tersely. “And the grass stains on your dress.”
“My beautiful dress.” The tears welled in her eyes as she pulled the skirt around to look at the grass stains on the back of it.
He realized it wasn’t the dress she was crying for, but the other beautiful thing she had lost. Her innocence.
“We’ll tell your father Harvey attacked you—”
“No. Please!”
He reached out to take her shoulders, and she shrank from him. His hands dropped to his sides. He realized they were trembling and curled them into tight fists. “We’ll tell them Harvey attacked you, but you fought him off,” he said in an urgent voice. “Unless you tell that much of the tale, they’re liable to believe the worst.”
He had never seen—never hoped to see again—a look as desolate as the one she gave him.
“All right,” she said. “But tell them you came in time. Tell them…nothing happened.”
“What if…what if you’re pregnant?” he asked.
“I don’t think…I don’t think…”
He realized she was in too much shock to even contemplate the possibility.
She shook her head, looking dazed and confused. “I don’t think…”
He thought concealing the truth was a bad idea. She needed medical attention. She needed the comfort her mother and father could give her. “Jewel, let me tell your parents,” he pleaded quietly.
She shook her head and began to shiver.
“Give me your hand, Jewel,” he said, afraid to put his arms around her, afraid she might scream or faint or something equally terrifying.
She kept her arms wrapped around herself and started walking in the opposite direction from the revelers at the picnic. “Take me home, Mac,” she said. “Please, just take me home.”
He snatched up her underpants, stuffed them in his Levi’s pocket and followed her to his truck. But it was too much to hope they would escape unnoticed. Not with Jewel’s seven brothers and sisters at the picnic.
It was Rolleen who caught them before they could escape. She insisted Mac find her parents, and he’d had no choice except to go hunting for Zach and Rebecca. He had found Zach first.
The older man’s eyes had turned flinty as he listened to Mac’s abbreviated—and edited—version of what had happened.
The dangerous, animal sound that erupted from Zach’s throat when he saw Jewel’s torn dress and her bruised face and swollen lip made Mac’s neck hairs stand upright. He realized suddenly that Jewel had known her father better than he had. Zach became a lethal predator. Only the lack of a quarry contained his killing rage.
Jewel’s family surrounded her protectively, unconsciously shutting him out. He was forced to stand aside as they led her away. It wasn’t until he got back to his private room in the cottage he shared with a half-dozen boys aged eight to twelve and stripped off his jeans, that he realized he still had Jewel’s underwear in his pocket.
The garment was white cotton, with a delicate lace trim. It was stained with blood.
A painful lump rose in his throat, and his eyes burned with tears he was too grown up to shed. He fought the sobs that bunched like a fist in his chest, afraid one of the campers would return and hear him through the wall that separated his room from theirs. He pressed his mouth against a pillow in the bedroom and held it there until the ache eased, and he thought the danger was over.
In the shower later, where no one could see or hear, he shed tears of frustration and rage and despair. He had known, even then, that Harvey Barnes had stolen something precious from him that day, as well.
Mac learned later that Zach had found Harvey Barnes and horsewhipped him within an inch of his life. And Zach hadn’t even known the full extent of Harvey’s crime against his daughter. It seemed Jewel had been right not to tell her father the truth. Zach would have killed the boy for sure. Harvey’s parents had sent him away, and he hadn’t been seen since.
Things weren’t the same between him and Jewel after that. She smiled and pretended everything was all right in front of him and her family. But the smile on her lips never reached her eyes.
The end of the summer came too soon, before they had reconciled their friendship. He went to her the night before he left, seeking somehow to mend the breach between them, to say goodbye for the summer and to ask if she was all right.
“Harvey Barnes is gone,” she said. “And tomorrow you will be, too. Then I can forget about what happened.”
“I’ll be back nex
t year,” he reminded her.
She had been looking at her knotted hands when she said, “I hope you won’t come, Mac.”
Something bunched up tight inside of him. “Not come? I come every summer, Jewel.”
“Don’t come back. As a favor to me, Mac. Please don’t come back.”
“But why? You’re my best friend, Jewel. I—”
“You know,” she said in a brittle voice. She raised her eyes and looked at him and let him see her pain. “You know the truth. It’s in your eyes every time you look at me.”
He felt like crying again and forced himself to swallow back the tickle in his throat. “Jewel—”
“I want to forget, Mac,” she said. “I need to forget. Please, please don’t come back.”
A lump of grief caught in his throat and made it impossible to say more. When he left that summer, a part of himself—the lighthearted, teasing friend—had stayed behind.
Mac had honored Jewel’s wishes and stayed away for six long years. The really sad thing was, it had all been for nothing. She wasn’t over what had happened. The past had not been forgotten.
He had often wondered if he’d done the wrong thing. Should he have told her parents the truth, anyway? Should he have come back the following summer? Should he have tried harder to get in touch with her over the years, to talk to her about what had happened?
A soft knock on the door forced Mac from his reverie. Before he could reply, the door opened, and Jewel stood silhouetted in the light from the hall. She was wearing a sleeveless white nightgown with a square-cut neck. The gown only covered her to mid-thigh. He could see the shape of her through the thin garment, the slender legs and slim waist and bountiful bosom.
He sat up, dragging the sheets around him to cover his nakedness and to conceal the sudden arousal caused by the enticing sight of her in his bedroom doorway. “Jewel? Is something wrong?”
She slipped inside and closed the door, so that momentarily he lost sight of her as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He heard the rustle of sheets and suddenly felt her body next to his beneath the covers.
“Jewel? What’s going on?” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as shocked as he felt. He didn’t know what she thought she was doing, but he intended to find out before things went much farther.
He had expected an answer. He hadn’t counted on her laying her palm on his bare chest. She followed that with a scattering of kisses across his chest that led her to the sensitive flesh beneath his ear. His body was trembling with desire when she finally paused to speak.
“Nothing’s wrong, Mac,” she murmured in his ear. “I came because…” She nibbled on his earlobe, and he groaned at the exquisite pleasure of it. “I need your help,” she finished.
He put an arm around her shoulder, realized suddenly he was naked and clutched at the sheet again. “Anything, Jewel. You know I’d do anything for you. But—”
“I was hoping you’d say that. Because what I need you to do…It won’t be easy.”
He waited, his breath caught in his chest, for what she had to say. “Anything, Jewel,” he repeated, his heart thundering so loud he figured she could probably hear it.
She pressed her breasts against his chest and said, “I want you to make love to me.”
His heart pounded, and his shaft pulsed. In another moment, things would be out of hand. His eyes had adapted to the dark, and with the moonlight from the window he at last could see the feelings etched on her face. Not desire, but fear and vulnerability.
“I want to feel like a woman,” she said in a halting voice. “I want to stop being afraid.”
He couldn’t keep the dismay from his voice. “Aw, Jewel.”
A cry of despair issued from her throat, and she made a frantic lurch toward the edge of the bed and escape.
He grabbed for her, knowing she had misinterpreted his words. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her. He wanted her something fierce. He just wasn’t the experienced bed partner she thought he was. He caught her by the wrist and pulled her back into his arms and held her tight, biting back a groan at the exquisite feel of her breasts crushed against his chest with only the sheer cloth between them.
“It’s all right, Mac,” she said in a brittle voice. “I made a mistake. Let me go, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”
She held herself stiff and unyielding in his arms. “Jewel—”
“Don’t try to make me feel better. I deserve to feel like an idiot, throwing myself at you like this. I just thought…with all your experience…”
This time he did groan.
She tried to pull away, and he said, “You don’t understand.”
“I understand you don’t find me attractive. I’m sorry for forcing myself on you like this.”
“No!” Tell her the truth, Macready. She’s your friend. She’ll understand.
But the words stuck in his throat. If he hadn’t cared for her, if he didn’t want her so badly, if things hadn’t changed between them like they had, maybe he could have confessed the truth.
“It’s not that I’m not attracted to you,” he said.
He saw the look on her face and realized she didn’t believe him. How could she not see the truth when it was throbbing like mad beneath the thin sheet that separated them?
“Then why won’t you make love to me?” she challenged.
“Because…”
He couldn’t tell her the truth, and he saw she believed the worst—that she had imposed herself where she wasn’t wanted, and he was rejecting her as kindly as he could.
“Aw, Jewel,” he said again. His voice was tender, as gentle as he wished he could be with her.
She made a keening sound in her throat, a mournful sound that made him ache somewhere deep inside.
He realized he had no choice. He had to try to make love to her. He couldn’t botch things much worse than he already had. He leaned over and pressed his mouth against hers, restraining the rush of passion he felt at the touch of her soft, damp lips.
She moaned and arched her body against his. Her mouth clung to his, and he felt her need and her desire.
Maybe it’s going to be all right. Maybe I can get us both through this.
He tried to hold back, so he wouldn’t scare her. Yet when his tongue slipped into her mouth it found an eager welcome. He thrust deep, mimicking the sex act, and she riposted with her tongue in his mouth.
He thought the top of his head was going to come off. He had never felt so out of control. His hands slid down her arms, feeling the goose bumps and her shiver of anticipation. She was as excited as he was. She wanted him, too.
His lips started down her slender throat, across the silky flesh that led to her breastbone and downward, giving her plenty of warning where he was headed. She could have stopped him anytime she wanted. He wasn’t an animal. He had his desire on a firm leash.
She cried out when his mouth latched onto her nipple, and he sucked hard through the cotton. Mac knew it wasn’t a cry of fear, because her hands grasped his hair and held him there.
Her moan of pleasure urged him on. He released her breast momentarily and kissed her mouth again, an accolade for her trust in him. “I won’t hurt you, Jewel. I would never hurt you,” he murmured against her lips.
“I know, Mac. I know,” she replied in gasping breaths.
Their tongues dueled dangerously, inciting them both to greater passion. He clasped her shoulders, making himself go slow, telling himself Go Slow. He slid his hand across the damp cotton that covered her breasts all the way down to her belly, wishing the damned nightgown wasn’t between his palm and her flesh, but feeling the heat of her even through the thin shift.
He grabbed the bottom edge of it, anxious to get it out of his way, and brushed her thigh with his fingertips. Just her thigh. She tensed slightly but didn’t pull away. He managed not to heave a sigh of relief.
It’s going to be all right. I’ll be able to do this for her.
But he was overeager and excited, wor
ried about whether he would be able to satisfy her, and a moment later his hand accidentally brushed against the soft mound between her legs.
She jerked away from him with a cry of alarm. But he still had hold of the nightgown, and the fragile material tore. He let go, but it was too late. She was already rolled up in a tight, fetal ball with her back to him.
“Jewel—”
“I can’t!” she cried. “I can’t.”
He laid a hand on her shoulder, and she cringed away.
“Please don’t touch me,” she whispered.
He lay staring at her in shock. He should have known better than to try this. He should have known he didn’t have the experience to do it right. “What can I do?”
She turned to him, her eyes awash in despair. “I’m sorry, Mac.”
“Aw, Jewel.”
“I thought it would be all right. Because it was you,” she sobbed. “Because you’re my friend.”
He would have to confess the truth. He owed her that much. “It isn’t you, Jewel, it’s me,” he said flatly.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” she said.
“No. I’m not.” He forced himself to continue as she stared up at him. “You mustn’t be discouraged by what happened here tonight. I’m sure another man, a more experienced man, could have managed things better. I lost control and frightened you.”
“But I trust you,” she protested.
“All the more reason I should have kept my hands off of you.” He huffed out a breath of air and shoved a hand through his hair in agitation.
“When you find a man you love,” he said earnestly, “a man who loves you enough to take his time and do things right, I’m sure you’ll be able to get past what happened to you.”
She sat up slowly, her chin sunk to her chest, her hands knotted in front of her knees, which were clutched to her chest. She swallowed hard. “What you’re saying is that you’re not that man.”
“No. I’m not.”
“I see.”
Evidently not. Evidently he hadn’t hinted broadly enough at his inexperience for her to realize the truth.
Hawk's Way Grooms Page 8
