He put his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. "Don't forget that one real possibility is that this was done as revenge for catching the poachers. And catching them was something Bartow approved of, I'm certain."
"Do you really think that's what happened here?"
"I think it's a good possibility. We'll talk to the fire chief and the police this afternoon and see what they've found."
They stood without making any attempt to move. Matthew wanted to infuse Alexis with new strength and hope. She wanted to stay in his arms and forget about the rest of the house.
Suddenly his arms tightened spasmodically, then relaxed. She couldn't ignore it. "Matthew?"
He tried to make light of the tremor that had shaken him. "What is it they say? Someone just walked over my grave?" The moment the words were out he wished he'd kept them to himself.
She turned and searched his eyes. "You feel it, too, don't you? The evil?"
"A house can't be good or evil. It's boards and nails and roofing shingles."
"Someone tried to kill me here."
"I don't think so."
"The back door was wired shut."
"To confuse you and frighten you. But the windows weren't tampered with. All you had to do was open one or smash one and you were outside. Just what happened."
"And what if I hadn't awakened?"
He smoothed his hand over her hair. He found the silky fall against his palm and fingertips oddly reassuring. He hoped it reassured her, too. "Even in the midst of the ruckus last night, the fire chief could see that the blaze started in the shrubbery. Anyone who'd really wanted the house to go up swiftly enough that you couldn't escape would have set several fires, and set them directly on the porch, or inside, perhaps."
"Then why?"
"Childish revenge. I think the chief will find it was really an amateur's job. Flammables poured on damp shrubbery, causing more smoldering than flames, at least at first."
"So that I'd have time to get out?"
"Exactly."
Alexis considered his theory. If it were true, and if the woman she had seen with the poachers was the arsonist, then perhaps she had succeeded in getting what she'd wanted. Revenge. The satisfaction of knowing she had terrified Alexis and damaged her home. Perhaps it was all she needed.
If the woman was the arsonist.
"Ah, dear one," Matthew said, watching emotions pass so clearly across her face. "You don't need any more worries right now. I'll come back later and get everything. Let's get you to the park."
"Kiss me."
He had wanted to kiss her, to touch her, to make lengthy, mind-numbing love to her, since he had seen her unconscious in Sam Teleford's arms the night before. But she had been in shock. He had held her gently through the remainder of the night while his flesh grew taut with need and his need became an agony. Today he had still been afraid to touch her, except in comfort. What right did he have to make demands when the world was falling apart around her?
He leaned forward to touch her lips with his own. In comfort. In a promise that he would protect her.
Suddenly she wanted no comfort, no promises. She wanted to know that she wasn't a child to be cared for but a woman he cared about. She wanted to know that the greatest reason for Matthew's wanting to protect her was because he didn't want to live without her.
"Why did you want me to stay?" she asked when he drew away. Everything began to rise inside her and overflow. Despair. Anguish. Fear. All were being driven up and out. She was nothing. She was no one. No one except a woman whose sole reason for living was to inspire compassion in those around her.
Matthew sensed her swift change, but he didn't know what was causing it. "I told you last night."
"Last night you told me you wanted me. What's the real reason?"
He suppressed another shudder, but this time the cold he felt didn't come from some amorphous sense of evil. It came from deep inside him. He went very still, and his eyes narrowed as his arms fell to his sides. "Suppose you tell me?"
"You want to protect me. You're a good man, and good men don't like to see women or children hurt."
"Is there something wrong with that?"
"You couldn't protect your wife and son." She didn't say the words cruelly, just as a statement of fact.
He said nothing.
"Perhaps Jody and I are your second chance."
His breath hissed out in fury. "You think so little of me that you believe I'm playing out some warped scene from my past? Do you think I'm trying to come out with a different ending?"
She shook her head slowly. "I think so much of you that I know what kind of man you are. A good one. One of the best. When you lost your wife and son, it almost killed you. You've let down some of your guard with me, Matthew, because circumstances have demanded it. And now you feel responsible." She turned, folding her arms over her chest. "I shouldn't have stayed, and you shouldn't have asked me to."
"Last night my wanting you to stay was enough!"
"Last night your wanting me was enough. But you didn't really want me then, and you don't want me now. You want to take care of me and keep me safe."
His hand was like a steel vise on her shoulder, forcing her to turn and face him. "You need words, Alexis? Words I can never say again?"
"I'm not talking about love!" She pushed away the realization that she had just uttered a lie. "I'm talking about wanting me!"
Through his anger he saw her despair. He understood, finally, what she meant. She saw herself as the object of his pity, simply because he had tried so diligently not to overwhelm her or intrude when she was still suffering. With a groan he pulled her to him and fastened his mouth on hers.
She struggled, horrified that she had forced him into a display of desire he couldn't possibly feel. Then she stopped struggling, slowly, as she began to see that his desire was real.
"You idiot," he muttered at last, when he had compelled himself to break away. He kissed her cheek, her forehead, her eyelids, murmuring against them, "I'm nobody's benefactor, least of all yours."
"Then why—"
"Because I care about you. I thought your needs—"
"I needed you."
"Needed?"
"Need."
"A bloody fine place to make the announcement." He pulled her so tightly against him that she thought they would merge right there.
"Jody's bed—"
"No." His hands moved over her, tantalizing, demanding. His mouth silenced her protests. Finally he broke away long enough to pull her toward the back door.
"Where are we going?"
He didn't answer. At the windows he stopped, sinking down to the thick rug in front of them and taking her with him. She felt as if she were in a dream, as if she had no control over what was happening. And because she trusted Matthew, the sensation was heady.
He lay back, pulling her on top of him and taking her mouth with his all in the same movement. This was not the man she thought she had known. Even in the height of passion he was always controlled and careful, as if he were afraid of hurting both of them. Now his control seemed to be gone.
Her control disappeared, too. She had wanted to be needed this way. Wanted. Needed. Desired for the woman she was. She had wanted to have the need drawn from her, discovered like a cherished secret and used for their mutual pleasure.
His pleasure was apparent. Matthew groaned as if all boundaries had been breached and nothing except sensation ruled him. He pushed her clothes away in seconds, forcing buttons from holes, wrenching her zipper free, until enough of her was bare to satisfy him. His mouth followed the path of his hands, as if he needed to fill all his senses with her, to taste as well as touch, to absorb her wildflower scent, to listen to the low murmur in her throat as all her doubts fell away.
Alexis tried to do the same, but Matthew wouldn't let her go long enough to create the space she needed. She had to content herself with reaching what she could, taking what she could.
His skin was fevered; the pulse in his neck slammed frantically beneath her lips. His muscles bunched at her touch, and he groaned with pleasure.
It wasn't enough. She couldn't get or give enough. She felt as if she were turning slowly inside out, giving up everything she'd ever felt, ever dreamed. And it wasn't enough. He was returning what she gave, reaching far inside himself to bare his heart, his soul, and it wasn't enough.
There were no more preliminaries, no more words. He thrust into her, searching, seeking, reaching for more than he had ever asked for.
And, finally, sensation was everything.
When sanity returned, when their kisses had become tender once more and their hands had touched and soothed and apologized, they stood, helping each other dress in silence.
"No, you didn't hurt me," she said in answer to the question in his eyes.
He frowned a little, like a man who can't explain where he's been and what he's been doing for the last minutes. "You're certain you're all right?"
She touched his forehead, soothing away the frown with her fingertips. She didn't know how to tell him his lovemaking, his passion, were seeping into the chasms Charles had carved in her self-confidence. "I feel reborn," she said at last.
He pulled her close. He couldn't remember a time when his passions had been so uncontrolled. And she had gone willingly with him every step of the way. He wasn't ready to think what that said about their relationship. He just held her tight.
"Let's go back to my house."
She shook her head and forced herself to step out of his arms. "I want to see the rest of the damage."
He was reluctant. He felt curiously vulnerable, as if parts of him had been laid open that had never been exposed before. He knew she must feel the same. "Are you certain? We could wait for a better time."
She took a deep breath. "Yes. I'm certain."
He took her hand, hoping to ease the shock. Then he led her through the house, room by room. They spoke as little as possible, each sadly taking in the destruction, but realizing, at the same time, just how much worse it could have been.
"Most of it can be cleaned and repaired," Alexis said at last, when they were back in the kitchen. "What can't be fixed can be replaced."
He thought she had more courage than anyone he'd ever known. She asked for no sympathy; she just kept going as if she had the faith that, someday, her life would be filled with more than crisis and tragedy.
"Even when we've found out who did this, will you be able to live here again?" he asked gently.
Alexis knew he was referring to the lingering chill of evil. She considered his question, then, with dawning recognition, nodded. "Something's changed since we've been here, Matthew. I don't feel it anymore."
"It?"
She didn't want to name the feeling again. "There's warmth here now. We brought it back."
"Did we?"
She heard skepticism in his voice, but he reached for her, enclosing her in arms that were definitely not soothing. "We did." She laid her palms against his cheeks. "Thank you.'*
"No one's ever thanked me for doing exactly what I wanted."
"It's a wondrous thing when two people need and take and still manage to give at the same time."
"A wondrous thing," he agreed, finding her lips to both give and take once more.
Chapter 14
THE FIRE CHIEF was a man who saw a fire on his island as a personal affront. A fire set on purpose was tantamount to a declaration of war. Hours were spent combing the Hanson Bay property for clues to the identity of the arsonist, and the fire chief was present for every one of them.
But it was the police who finally turned up the best clue.
Matthew came home from the park office six days after the fire to find Alexis baking brownies. She was bending over the oven when he walked in, and when she turned, her cheeks were glowing from the heat.
"That's a smell I haven't enjoyed for a decade," he said appreciatively.
She lifted an eyebrow, moving toward him to wave the brownies under his nose. "No?"
"They're not popular here. You never see them. But since we lived in the States so long, my mother learned to make them. I think I was the only kid in Australia who brought brownies in my school lunch. I used to sell them to the highest bidder."
She laughed. "Jody couldn't live without them." The laughter died abruptly.
He saw the worry, the regret. "She'll be back to enjoy another batch soon."
"I'll have to do something, Matthew. I can't leave her in Coober Pedy indefinitely. She needs me."
"I have some news."
She met his eyes, then nodded. "Sit down and I'll cut these. They'll crumble, because they're supposed to cool, but you don't care, do you?" She realized she was chattering because she was afraid to hear what he was going to say.
"I don't care."
She went to the cupboard and got two glasses, then poured milk. He cut the brownies while he waited.
Alexis sat down and passed his milk across the table. "Well?"
"There's no way to trace the fire to anyone. There's just no evidence."
"I didn't think there would be." She lowered her gaze to her plate. She didn't want to burden Matthew with her disappointment.
"But the police think the poachers were responsible."
She looked up. "How could they be? They're in jail."
"There were three poachers, Alexis, besides the woman. More than we thought. The two that were caught are loyal, but not clever. It seems they've been overheard talking late at night. I suppose they've got nothing better to do until they come to trial."
"Talking about what?"
"A mate and their lady friend. To get right to the heart of it, another man got away that night, and neither you nor I caught sight of him."
"Did the poachers use a name?"
Matthew shook his head. "But the police know something else. The two in custody have been heard to laugh about what their mate will do to get even with us."
"Us?"
"The ranger and his woman," he repeated bluntly.
She wasn't sure how she should feel. One thing was clear. She was still in danger.
"There's more," Matthew continued. "It seems the police have a good clue who the other poacher is. Now that they know another man is involved, they've questioned Isaac Bates up at Castle Hill again. He remembers a local lad, Donald Carson, hanging around the farm. And Carson has a sister. She's had a spot of trouble, parents tossed her out once, then relented and let her come home again. She fits your general description."
"If she's the one, I'd recognize her."
"I told the police you would. They're going to do some investigating and find a time when you can see her informally at the pub. If you identify her, they'll take her and her brother in for questioning."
Alexis realized she had crumbled her brownie into a hundred pieces. "My attorney says that Charles hasn't left the country in the last month."
"He's certain?"
"As certain as anyone can be about Charles."
"And he has no indication that Cahill's found where you are?"
"None. And none that he's still searching."
Matthew reached across the table and stopped the hundred crumbs from becoming a thousand. "Then I'd say we're in reach of having this over with."
She desperately wanted it to be over. She missed her daughter. She missed having her own things around her, missed the study overlooking the silver tipped surf of Hanson Bay. But there was another reason for wanting the waiting to end.
Living with Matthew was too painfully bittersweet to continue.
She woke up each morning in his arms. And a day hadn't yet started without that early morning cuddling turning into slow, glorious lovemaking. She bathed while he shaved, and witnessing that masculine ritual always warmed her to the core. Then, while he showered, she made their breakfast. Matthew had protested at first, perhaps because it seemed too domestic, or perhaps just because he didn't want her to fe
el she had to. But she had insisted, enjoying the chance to spoil him a little and give back.
He left for work soon afterward, and she worked in her makeshift study in his spare bedroom. Neither her computer nor her diskettes had been damaged, and the book was progressing, if slowly. As she worked, the knowledge that he was coming home for lunch stayed with her, building to excitement as noon drew nearer. When he finally arrived, he always seemed as pleased to see her as she was to see him. He was often late going back, a development that apparently none of the other staff commented on, since for the last three years he had worked like a man possessed.
She usually quit writing in midafternoon, sometimes to bake a treat for their dinner as she had done today, sometimes just to dream. And sometimes to worry.
Matthew had learned to read her so well that he always seemed to know which it had been. Just as now he seemed to know what she was thinking.
"This hasn't been easy," he said, reaching for her hand.
"For you as well as me."
He thought of their evenings together. Of watching darkness steal through the Chase, of sitting on his porch, arms entwined, or walking through the menagerie of animals who lived near the rangers' homestead. Of relaxed silences, animated conversations, of finding that their values were remarkably similar although their lives had been so different.
Of finding that she was the last thought in his head as he fell asleep after making love to her and the first thought in his head each morning.
Of finding that she possessed his dreams as surely as Jeannie once had.
Now he didn't know what to say. She was right; it hadn't been easy having her live with him. He was filled with conflicting feelings and sure of little. But he was sure of one thing. Bittersweet though their time together had been, he wasn't ready for it to end.
"I'm glad you've been here." He turned her hand palm up and pressed a kiss into it. "But I’ll be pleased when we don't have to worry about your safety."
She wondered if that day would ever come. Part of her knew that, despite everything she had said, it was time to run again. Except that now she had so much to lose if she did.
Out of the Ashes Page 18
