by Lucy Francis
“Victoria.”
Curran. She honed in on his voice as he pushed past the officers surrounding her, focused on his face, on his amazing, incredible, handsome face, and how in the world had she ever thought him only mildly attractive?
Then her vision clouded. Tears fell from her eyes. A cry filled with all her fears, her need, her love for him tore from her throat.
Her strength flooded out of her as she threw her arms around his neck. Against the warmth of his chest, safe in the tight circle of his arms, she let go and wept.
She’s safe. Curran held her as she shuddered against him, sobs wracking her entire frame. Tears obliterated his vision, coursed down his cheeks. She lived and breathed, and he owed God a lifetime worth of good behavior in exchange. He ran his hand up her back, caressed her hair, until he touched a matted spot near her ear and she whimpered in pain.
The son of a bitch had hurt her. A fierce appetite for vengeance, a hunger to tear the guy apart coiled in Curran’s gut. The desire to help Victoria swamped his own need, banking his anger. Loathe as he was to separate himself even a hair’s width from her, he had to see to her injuries. “Victoria, honey, let me look at you.”
He tried to set her back from him, so he could examine her, but she tightened her arms around his neck.
“Please,” her smoky voice broke. “Don’t let go of me.”
His heart ached for her. “Never, honey, never. But you’re hurt. Let me see.”
She squeezed him again, then relaxed enough for him to ease her back. The skin across her right cheekbone was scraped, bloodied and oozing, beginning to purple. He gently grasped her chin, turned her head to the side. Blood caked her hair behind her left ear and down her pale neck.
Too pale. She trembled in his hands, jacking his protective instinct sky high. He looked past her, focused on the paramedic who stood nearby, holding a blanket. He nodded, and the man draped the blanket over her shoulders. Curran released her long enough to wrap the wool around her, then curved his arm about her waist.
The paramedic examined the cut on her cheek and said, “If you’ll come with me, ma’am, we can get you fixed up.” She nodded, and Curran walked with her toward the ambulance. She stumbled once, and his heart followed suit. He swept her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way, grateful for the opportunity to hold her.
Victoria felt the tiniest bit more stable, linked to reality by Curran’s touch. She swiped at her damp eyes and sat in the ambulance, allowing the paramedics to clean her injuries. Every moment out of Curran’s arms was torture, but she couldn’t exactly sit on his lap while the EMT bandaged her cheek.
The other paramedic tsked when he cleaned the hair behind her ear enough to look at the wound. “We’ll need to take you to the hospital for this one, ma’am. It’s a small cut, but it’ll still need a couple of stitches.”
Curran leaned in to look at the wound and she tightened her grip on his hand. “I don’t want to go to the hospital. It takes forever, and if it’s stopped bleeding, what does it matter? I don’t care if it scars.”
“Ma’am, we can’t force you to go, but we strongly recommend it,” the paramedic said. “It’s more than a question of scarring. There’s also infection to consider.”
A strange, happy look crossed Curran’s face, and he ran his thumb along her jaw, then withdrew his hand from hers. “Give me a moment. I have a solution in the truck.”
She clamped down on her desperation as he jogged toward the big red pickup. He leaned in through the passenger side and rummaged in the glove compartment for a moment, then returned, his long strides swallowing the snow-blanketed ground.
Curran raised his hand and showed the small tube of liquid stitches to the paramedics. One of them laughed and the other said, “Well, that’s definitely an option.”
Victoria’s brow furrowed. “You’re going to glue my cut?”
Curran grinned and nudged her knees, urging her to turn to the right. She shifted, giving him better access to her injury.
“Trust me, honey.” She felt pressure as he held the injured skin together, then a cold wetness trickled against her scalp.
“Last fall, Robby took a tumble in the barn and gashed his arm. The thought of stitches terrified him, so the ER doc glued it.” He leaned closer, his warm scent comforting her. His breath played against her scalp as he blew softly, helping the glue set.
She sat quietly under his ministrations, everything around them fading. She loved him, with every particle of her being, and he was here for her, had been the whole time. She’d never told him she loved him, never dared lay herself that far on the line.
None of her insecurities mattered now. She wanted him to know, even if this wasn’t meant to work out and they went their separate ways after she moved into her new place. Brushing so close to death gave her a new perspective on her life, and she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t tell him how she felt.
As Curran declared the glue dry, a deputy approached. “Miss Linden, can you answer a few questions for me?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know your assailant?”
“Yes.” She looked up at the officer, comforted and encouraged by his gentle smile. The authorities had always been good to her. “His name is Greg Fielder.” Curran drew a sharp breath, and she glanced at him. Her heart tripped at the dark anger in his eyes. She focused on the deputy. “I’d feel a whole lot better if you tell me he’s dead.”
The deputy nodded, as if he understood her need. “Yes, ma’am, he is. Can you tell me what he wanted?”
“His brother went to prison in California for assaulting me, and was killed by another inmate several weeks ago. Greg wanted payback because I testified. In his mind, it was my fault Nate died.”
She told him what had happened, from how Greg had surprised her on the porch to the moment she dropped against his arm. The deputy noted her injuries, then closed his book. “You’ve obviously had a long evening, Miss Linden, so I won’t keep you further, except to ask if you know how to reach Mr. and Mrs. Campbell.”
She nodded, looking back at the house. “They were in Hong Kong when I spoke to them last. They’ll be home in a few weeks. Mr. Campbell’s cell number is programmed into my phone, and that’s probably in my purse or maybe in the SUV, I really don’t remember.”
The deputy wrote the information in his book. “We’ll look for your phone. If you could come to the station in the next couple of days to sign a statement, that’d be great. How are you feeling?”
“If you’re asking if I feel the need to go to the hospital, the answer is no.”
The deputy glanced at the paramedic hovering nearby, who shook his head. “She’s a lucky lady, came out of this one pretty well.”
“Do you have someplace to stay for the next couple of days?” the deputy asked.
The words were so close to those spoken to her in the hospital by Danielle, the abuse center counselor. Do you have anywhere to go? Can you go home? Her mother made it clear that home was no longer an option. She’d gotten what she deserved for living with a man who hadn’t married her.
Curran’s thumb caressed the back of her hand. She turned her gaze to him. She opened her mouth to ask, to beg if necessary, but he spoke first. “I’ve got her, deputy. She’s coming home with me.”
The deputy nodded, smiled and walked away. Victoria didn’t trust her voice to work. He volunteered to take care of her. Even if he didn’t love her, it was more than anyone had ever done for her. She simply stood and stepped into Curran’s embrace.
“What about Sassy?” Victoria asked as she settled her clothing into the drawers in one of the extra bedrooms.
Curran forced his gaze away, trying to quell the need to see those shirts and underthings in the drawer in his own room. She was fragile and exhausted right now. He wouldn’t put that sort of pressure on her. “Jamie took her base cage over to Kelli’s. Rob is more than happy to take care of her for a couple of days.”
She nodded
, then gathered a small stack of clothing she’d left atop the chest and sighed, looking longingly through the open door of her private bathroom. “I’d give anything for a hot shower.”
He shook his head. “You can’t get the glue on your head wet. However, I did run a bath for you in the master suite. The tub has jets. I thought it would relax you.”
Her smile infused him with joy. “Thank you.”
He guided her down the hall to his room, showed her into the bathroom, then pressed in the lock on her side of the door. She watched him and said, “You don’t have to lock it, Curran.”
He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. “Oh, but I do. You can’t relax if you don’t feel completely safe.”
A look of confusion deepened the amber of her eyes. “I am safe with you.”
Her words humbled him. “Thank you. Take your time, honey.” He withdrew and closed the door behind him.
Curran sat on the edge of the bed, then picked up his coat from where it lay half over the bedside. He dug into the pocket, withdrew the ring box. He slid the ring out, then tossed the box and the coat across the room, missing the chair he’d aimed for.
He turned the ring, mesmerized by the brilliance of the stones in the soft lamplight. The ring fit over the first knuckle of his pinky, and he left it there, scrubbing his other hand against the side of his face.
Everything had changed tonight. He had changed.
He had to ask her.
Victoria stood at the sink and turned her head, carefully cleaning the rest of the blood from her hair, taking care to avoid the cut responsible for the mess. Satisfied that she’d gotten all the gore, she sank into the huge, deep, blue tub, instantly grateful for the gift of a hot soak. She ran the jets for a while to loosen up her knotted back, then turned them off and let the water soothe her until it grew lukewarm. She didn’t realize how far her muscles had weakened until she tried to stand up. It took her three attempts before she felt secure enough to actually step out of the tub.
She dried off with a thick white towel. Wow, it was warm. She’d always wondered about people who afforded such luxuries as warming towel racks. The heat of the cotton against her skin made her reconsider. Perhaps the rack should be reclassified as a necessity.
Normally she slept in the nude, but parading around in front of Curran buck-naked wasn’t a great idea. She pulled on a pair of flannel pants and a button-front pajama shirt that didn’t match. She brushed her teeth, then threw her dirty clothes into the laundry hamper. She jolted to a stop before she closed the lid, realizing what she’d just done. The intimacy of tossing her clothing in with his spread a tingle through her. She couldn’t help it. She felt more at home here than anywhere since her childhood. As if she belonged.
She left the clothing and turned the door handle, popping the lock open. She stepped out into his room and found it empty. The master suite was huge, bigger than most apartments she’d lived in. The hardwood in the hallway stopped at the door, with thick ivory wriggle-your-toes-in-it carpeting covering the bedroom floor. The carved mahogany headboard behind the king-size bed set off the navy, probably down-filled, comforter.
Victoria rubbed her eyes and sighed. Who was she kidding? She liked his world, but she didn’t belong in it. He was the finest man she’d ever met, and he treated her like gold.
She loved him. But it would never last.
He didn’t love her. He’d had ample opportunities to say something, and he hadn’t. What other conclusion could she draw?
“Victoria.” She turned as he entered the room. She’d heard water running earlier, while she soaked. His damp, tousled hair told her he’d showered. A bright white T-shirt hugged his muscular chest, black sweat pants covered the rest of his fine form.
His eyes swept across her from head to toe, heating her skin before his gaze met hers. “Have a good soak?”
“Wonderful.”
He approached her slowly, a whirlwind of emotion in his eyes. “I, uh, I know you’re exhausted, but I have some things to say, and they really can’t wait.”
Ominous sounding words. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind to consider what he meant, what he planned to say, before he actually said it. She sat on the edge of the bed, because it was the closest piece of furniture. He paused a moment, staring at the bed. Then he shook his head and sat beside her.
He took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “My timing is awful. But I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment, and after tonight, all I can think of is how much time I’ve wasted.”
He cupped her chin and leaned toward her. He kissed her, a tender touch that brought fresh tears to her eyes. He eased back, traced her jaw with his fingertip. “I love you, Victoria. You are the most amazing, real, incredible woman I’ve ever known. You’re worth more to me than everything I’ve spent my life pursuing. I like the man I’ve become with you, and I never want to go back to the man I was without you.” He brought her hand up to his mouth, kissed her fingers. “Marry me. Please.”
A dream. That explained it. But a glorious one she never wanted to wake from. She took his face in her hands and kissed him to be sure he was real and she was awake. When her voice finally worked, she managed to say, “I love you, Curran. You are the first man I ever loved, and you will be the last.”
Her words visibly choked him up. He blinked and swallowed hard, a half-smile crossing his lips. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes!”
He lifted her left hand, and she watched as, his hands trembling, he slid a delicate, perfect ring onto her third finger. He stared at it for a moment, ran his finger along its edge, then drew her into his arms.
They held each other for a long time, until a yawn forced its way out of her. He loosened his hold on her, leaned back to look at her. Ugh, what a way to ruin a perfect moment. She smiled and shrugged. “Sorry. It isn’t the company.”
He laughed softly. “I know, you’ve had a hell of a day, but I was impatient.”
“You’re forgiven.”
She went to stand, but stopped when he wrapped his fingers around her forearm. A serious look crossed his face, and she waited, her heart beginning to pound.
“Victoria, it’s grown more and more difficult to sleep alone over the time you’ve been in my life. After tonight…I’m not trying to pressure you, but I need to feel you in my arms. I swear, I’ll keep my hands to myself. I just know I won’t sleep at all with you down the hall.”
Curran turned back the covers for her and watched her settle herself on the left side of the bed, trying to shake the image lodged in his brain of her naked save the ring. It was a powerful vision to say the least, but tonight was not the night for it. Tonight she needed comfort and cuddling, not some desperate, sex-starved monster attacking her. As much as he wanted to fully make her his, the fact she wore his ring would have to be enough.
He took the right side of the bed. He’d have been happy just knowing she lay near him, but as he pulled the comforter over them, she scooted across the no-man’s land in the center of the bed to lie at his left side. He shifted his arm around her, and she snuggled close, tucking her head under his chin, draping her arm across his chest.
His traitorous body perked up, but he concentrated on the incredible comfort of her warmth along his side. He stroked her hair with his left hand, careful to avoid her wound. His right hand stroked her arm. He took a deep breath to steady his pounding heart, then let it out slowly so it didn’t sound like a disgruntled sigh. She was giving him everything he could ask of her, and meeting her needs took a far higher priority than his own.
Victoria knew she couldn’t possibly fall asleep like this, with his fingertips caressing her arm through her flannel sleeve, his other hand toying with her hair.
He loved her. He wanted to marry her. Tonight he stood beside her, supported her, gave her everything she needed, and asked for nothing in return, except that she marry him. Even that was a gift for her.
And what had she given, except her consent
? He’d laid himself on the line for her and she’d offered nothing of herself, not really. She’d said she loved him, but it wasn’t enough. Part of her still held back.
“Curran…how do you feel about a fast wedding?”
He stilled. “My love, you say the word and I’ll have us in Vegas and married before sunrise.”
That willingness to dive in headfirst was what she desperately wanted to hear. And now, she needed to face her fears head on. She needed to commit herself to him, to bind herself to him. To trust him completely, with her entire being. She knew Curran would never back out after putting the ring on her finger. In his mind, that was as solid as saying I do. The most definitive way she could seal the deal was with herself.
She trailed her fingers across his chest, a thrill zipping through her at the hitch in his breathing. She continued, tracing down the center of his abdomen to his waistband and back up, across the firm muscles of his stomach. His arm tensed around her, but otherwise he lay motionless, letting her touch him. Irritated at the barrier of cotton between her hand and his skin, she grasped his shirt at his waist and pulled up. His right hand curved around her wrist.
She boosted herself up on her elbow, gazed down into his eyes. The depth of desire in them startled her. Her own craving for him flared hot in her belly. “Please, Curran. I need this. I need to touch you.”
“I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret. Are you sure?”
She nodded and he slid his hand up her arm to her nape, urging her mouth down to his. She kissed him, tasted him, while she finished pulling his shirt up, baring his chest. She splayed her fingers against his heated skin, feeling his heart leap against her touch. She shifted down along his body, then pressed her lips to his chest. He gasped, and her pulse throbbed, reveling in the scent of his freshly scrubbed skin. She planted a trail of kisses along every band of hard muscle on his chest, his abdomen.
The longer she touched him, the more the ache inside her grew. She wanted him, wanted to feel him inside her. Still, the yearning for him grew sweeter as it intensified. She wanted this to last.
