his.
“Don’t,” she said, pulling back. “I hate you, Steven Harding.”
Well, he’d gotten what he’d wanted. But the means surely didn’t justify the end in this case. “I know.”
He took her hands again and because she’d gone limp, he was able to lift her up. They stood close, Steven caught by the look of hurt in her eyes, the stream of tears flowing down her face.
“Y-you’re no different than Boone.”
The words cut straight through his heart. She compared him to her abusive husband.
Her sobbing ebbed a bit and she stuttered her confession. “H-he never c-cared about my f-feelings. He was hurtful and cruel and when he wanted me,” shesaid, lowering her voice to a whisper, “he was b-brutal.”
Steven swallowed hard, fully realizing what Glory had gone through at the hands of a merciless man. He was glad the man was dead. And if she had killed him with that knife, he knew he would never hold that against her.
Steven took her into his arms. Surprised that she allowed it, he hugged her close. She rested her head on his shoulders, her body ragged, falling into him for support. Her tears soaked through his shirt, the moisture searing his skin like a hot torch of pain. He held her with all the tenderness he had inside. Gently, he stroked her hair and spoke soft soothing words of comfort. She settled in a pattern of regular breathing, her tears all shed.
“You don’t really think I’m like Boone, do you?” he asked quietly.
She hesitated then slowly shook her head. “I don’t want to think so.”
“I’m not, Glory. Trust me.”
She gazed up, her eyes filled with confusion. “I don’t know if I can. Ever.”
“I’d never hurt you.”
“But you have,” she said. And he knew she hadn’t meant tonight.
“I know. And I know you hate me.”
Glory sighed and lay her head back on his shoulders. “Yes, I hate you very much,” she whispered in the dark.
Steven held her close, relishing the feel of her supple body, the crush of her breasts against him. His body grew tight and desire assailed him like a traitorous enemy.
He pulled away from her roughly, disengaging her from his clutches. “Look, I came up here to see if you wanted to get out again. For a ride. But you probably don’t want—”
Hope filled her lovely eyes, vanquishing all remnants of her tears. “A ride? Oh, I’d love a ride tonight.”
“Well, get your cape,” he said hastily and before thinking better of it, he added, “Let’s go.”
Chapter Seven
H e hadn’t planned on a windstorm. He hadn’t planned on dust biting at his eyes, making it hard to see the ground, much less the trail. He hadn’t planned on shrieking sounds and the sheer terror of nature spooking Fancy so much that he’d had to hightail it toward the mountainside just to make certain his mare wouldn’t throw them.
Hell, he hadn’t planned on being shoved into close quarters in an abandoned mine with Glory all doggone night. He’d been lucky to find shelter amid the swirling gusts and dim moonlight, but that’s where his luck had ended. Because he was alone again with Glory, probably for the entire night. He hoped the winds would let up before dawn. He had to get her back to Rainbow House before daybreak.
He’d offered Glory a midnight ride, something to calm her, to soothe her feelings and get her some fresh air. Instead, she stood by the east wall of the mine next to Fancy, shivering, with fear in her eyes as the wind howled like a pack of wild animals outside. They couldn’t go any farther into the mine forfear of a collapse. No telling the stability of these walls. “I’ll light a fire.”
There was enough dry wood around from broken-down shafts to build a blazing fire. Soon, warmth spread out, lighting up the small alcove and he beckoned Glory to come close. “Sit down on the blanket where it’s warm.”
She took a seat and he reached for her hands, rubbing warmth into them. “Sorry about the windstorm. I’d never have
“Don’t,” she said, pulling back. “I hate you, Steven Harding.”
Well, he’d gotten what he’d wanted. But the means surely didn’t justify the end in this case. “I know.”
He took her hands again and because she’d gone limp, he was able to lift her up. They stood close, Steven caught by the look of hurt in her eyes, the stream of tears flowing down her face.
“Y-you’re no different than Boone.”
The words cut straight through his heart. She compared him to her abusive husband.
Her sobbing ebbed a bit and she stuttered her confession. “H-he never c-cared about my f-feelings. He was hurtful and cruel and when he wanted me,” shesaid, lowering her voice to a whisper, “he was b-brutal.”
Steven swallowed hard, fully realizing what Glory had gone through at the hands of a merciless man. He was glad the man was dead. And if she had killed him with that knife, he knew he would never hold that against her.
Steven took her into his arms. Surprised that she allowed it, he hugged her close. She rested her head on his shoulders, her body ragged, falling into him for support. Her tears soaked through his shirt, the moisture searing his skin like a hot torch of pain. He held her with all the tenderness he had inside. Gently, he stroked her hair and spoke soft soothing words of comfort. She settled in a pattern of regular breathing, her tears all shed.
“You don’t really think I’m like Boone, do you?” he asked quietly.
She hesitated then slowly shook her head. “I don’t want to think so.”
“I’m not, Glory. Trust me.”
She gazed up, her eyes filled with confusion. “I don’t know if I can. Ever.”
“I’d never hurt you.”
“But you have,” she said. And he knew she hadn’t meant tonight.
“I know. And I know you hate me.”
Glory sighed and lay her head back on his shoulders. “Yes, I hate you very much,” she whispered in the dark.
Steven held her close, relishing the feel of her supple body, the crush of her breasts against him. His body grew tight and desire assailed him like a traitorous enemy.
He pulled away from her roughly, disengaging her from his clutches. “Look, I came up here to see if you wanted to get out again. For a ride. But you probably don’t want—”
Hope filled her lovely eyes, vanquishing all remnants of her tears. “A ride? Oh, I’d love a ride tonight.”
“Well, get your cape,” he said hastily and before thinking better of it, he added, “Let’s go.”
Chapter Seven
H e hadn’t planned on a windstorm. He hadn’t planned on dust biting at his eyes, making it hard to see the ground, much less the trail. He hadn’t planned on shrieking sounds and the sheer terror of nature spooking Fancy so much that he’d had to hightail it toward the mountainside just to make certain his mare wouldn’t throw them.
Hell, he hadn’t planned on being shoved into close quarters in an abandoned mine with Glory all doggone night. He’d been lucky to find shelter amid the swirling gusts and dim moonlight, but that’s where his luck had ended. Because he was alone again with Glory, probably for the entire night. He hoped the winds would let up before dawn. He had to get her back to Rainbow House before daybreak.
He’d offered Glory a midnight ride, something to calm her, to soothe her feelings and get her some fresh air. Instead, she stood by the east wall of the mine next to Fancy, shivering, with fear in her eyes as the wind howled like a pack of wild animals outside. They couldn’t go any farther into the mine forfear of a collapse. No telling the stability of these walls. “I’ll light a fire.”
There was enough dry wood around from broken-down shafts to build a blazing fire. Soon, warmth spread out, lighting up the small alcove and he beckoned Glory to come close. “Sit down on the blanket where it’s warm.”
She took a seat and he reached for her hands, rubbing warmth into them. “Sorry about the windstorm. I’d never have
Similar Books
