Another Dawn (32 page)

      
"I'm sorry," Jenny said, drawing a shaky breath. "Were you in bed?"

      
"Not yet," Luke said, and Sofie looked up at him sharply, noticing the crimson stain creeping up from his open collar. "Er, no."

      
"Did I scream?" Jenny trembled and Sofie gathered her in her arms.

      
The child didn't shed a tear, though Sofie felt her misery and her terror. "You know, Jenny," she said quietly, "after you tell us the man's name, you won't have any reason to be afraid anymore."

      
"That's right."
 
Luke sat on the edge of the bed. "Marshal Weathers will put him in jail and you'll never have to be afraid again."

      
Jenny shook her head and pulled back slightly, her gaze dropping to Sofie's gaping bodice. "You're undone."

      
"Undone?" Sofie frowned, then noticed the direction of Jenny's gaze. Unfortunately, she also felt Luke's gaze on her exposed flesh as she quickly tucked herself inside and buttoned her dress. "I was, uh, getting ready for bed."
 
Getting ready for bed...?

      
Luke cleared his throat, but Sofie refused again to look at him. Shame slithered through her. "Are you all right now, Jenny?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't reveal her own terror. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

      
Jenny appeared thoughtful, then shook her head. "No, I'm a big girl."

      
"You certainly are," Luke whispered, stroking the top of the child's head, then he planted a kiss on her forehead as he stood. "You're a very
good
girl, too, but you yell if you need anything during the night. We'll be just down the hall."

      
In separate rooms
. Sofie ignored the pang of regret that stabbed through her. How she would love to spend the night making love with Luke, then sleep in his arms, sated and exhausted.

      
With Luke,
not
with Father Salazar. But they were one and the same man.

      
Don't do this
. She should be thankful for Jenny's nightmare, though she couldn't wish such terror on the child. Still, if not for Jenny's scream, by now she and Luke probably would have–

      
Oh, my God.

      
Heat suffused her as she stood beside Jenny's bed. The little girl settled back against the snowy pillow, her blond hair hanging over her shoulder in a single braid.
 

      
"Thank you," Jenny said sleepily, then yawned. "I'm fine now."

      
"Pleasant dreams, sweetheart."
 
Sofie kissed the child's cheek.

      
Luke stooped to tuck the quilt more securely around Jenny's shoulders, then turned down the lamp and followed Sofie into the hall. He pulled the door shut behind them and she decided to make a break for it. Hurriedly, she took several steps down the hall before Luke grabbed her shoulder.

      
"We have to talk," he said, halting her escape. "We can't just–"
      
      
      
      
      

      
"No."
 
Tears blurred her vision and her heart swelled, pushing upward against her throat. "No, we mustn't talk about...about..."

      
"Sofie, I..."
 
His hands fell limply to his sides and the sorrow in his voice cleaved into her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "So very sorry."

      
Scalding tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She didn't bother to blink them back, or to wipe them away, because there were far too many.
 

      
Tears for forbidden love.

      
Tears for the past she couldn't remember.

      
Tears for the future that could never be.
      

      
Luke watched Sofie run away, scurrying into her room across the hall as if he were the devil himself. In many ways, he was much worse than that.

      
Exhaustion ebbed through him and he stood in the hallway for several moments, helplessness settling over him with every tick of the grandfather clock downstairs. When it struck one o'clock, he forced himself to trudge down the stairs to check the doors, and to bank the fire.
 

      
He stood for several moments at the base of the stairs, gripping the bannister with all his strength. The woman he loved–yes,
loved
–was up there, and in his gut, he knew she loved him, too. He could ease her guilt over wanting a priest by telling her the simple truth.

      
And, just maybe, they could be together. Really together.

      
But what if hearing the truth triggered her memory? How would she feel about him then? Which was worse? Loving a priest or a convicted murderer?

      
His feet felt like lead weights as Luke climbed the stairs. He had to pass Sofie's closed door on his way to his room at the far end of the hall. His heart thudded loud and strong as he paused and placed his hand on the crystal door knob.

      
Resting his forehead against the cool wood, he remembered the warmth of her lips, the softness of her breast filling his hand, the taste of her on his tongue....

      
Then a sound drifted through the door, and he turned to press his ear to the panel. She was crying.

      
Damn
. Luke tightened his grip on the door knob, visualizing himself entering her room and taking her in his arms. He would tell her everything, and make her tears stop. He could ease her guilt, and confess his love, and–

      
Risk losing everything, including her.

      
Closing his eyes, he summoned memories of the electric chair to strengthen his decision. Then he remembered his grandfather's shame, and pushed away from the door.

      
Luke Nolan had a job to finish in Redemption, then he had to walk away from the town and from Sofie.

      
No matter how much it hurt.

      
She'd get over him eventually and start a new life for herself here. Even if she did remember Luke Nolan's true identity one day and how they'd come to be here in 1891, it wouldn't matter.

      
He'd be long gone.

      
Doggedly, he went to his room and pulled off his clothes, leaving them in a pile beside the bed. He needed sleep, but the cool night air encircling his body revived him.

      
Swallowing hard, Luke looked down at his throbbing erection. Sweat burst from every pore as he closed his eyes and remembered the feel of Sofie pressing her hips ardently against him. Again, he pondered how it would feel to peel away her voluminous skirts and hold her that way again.

      
He shuddered. Raw, primal hunger coursed through him.

      
His blood flow concentrated itself in one part of his body, with one goal in mind. Dizzy with desire, Luke staggered to bed and climbed beneath the covers. Curled onto his side, he clenched his legs together and gnashed his teeth, praying the insistent throb would pass and that sleep would send him into oblivion.

      
Soon.

      
Instead, when he closed his eyes, he saw his hand against her bare breast, the peace sign tattoo winking at him. He tasted the petal-like nub of her nipple against his tongue. And he heard her moans of pleasure.
 

      
"Now, Luke. Now."

      
"I was naughty...skinny-dipping."

      
"Skinny-dipping..."
 

      
Fatigue won at last and he fell into a troubled sleep.

      
Sofie awakened early, determined to get her thoughts and her behavior back on track today. She'd lain awake for hours, considering what had almost happened with Father Salazar.

      
In the light of day, she knew one thing for certain. She would not be a party to any priest breaking his holy vows.
 

      
Even though he'd been a willing and very active participant in their tumble on the floor?

      
Yes, even so.

      
She pulled her wet hair back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, determined to make herself as unattractive as possible. Dora's baggy dress went a long way toward achieving that. Sofie's breasts were practically indiscernible beneath the loose fabric.

      
But as she buttoned the front of her dress, the inside of her wrist brushed against her nipple, reminding her of Luke's caresses. And his mouth.
Oh, God, his mouth.

      
"No," she whispered, setting her lips in a thin line of determination. He wasn't Luke. She mustn't think of him as anyone other than Father Salazar–a Catholic priest who'd taken a vow of celibacy.

      
She paused to stare in the mirror, a question ricocheting around in her frazzled mind. Shaking her head, she decided it was a question better left unasked, even of herself.

      
However, it refused to remain silent. She had to wonder, though she doubted she'd ever know the answer.

      
Had Father Salazar broken his vows before?

      
She groaned and leaned on the nightstand with the palms of both hands, staring deeply into her own guilty gaze. Blinking, she jerked away from the mirror and smoothed her skirt.
 

      
It didn't matter whether or not he'd broken his vows before, because she wouldn't be a party to him breaking them again, even if it wasn't the first time. "So there."

      
As she opened her bedroom door and peered down the hall, she ignored the voice in the back of her mind reminding her of his kisses, his touch, the impressive and undeniable evidence of his desire at the front of his jeans....

      
A priest. He was a priest.

      
Squaring her shoulders, she turned her back on his bedroom door and went downstairs to start breakfast. Mrs. Fleming had left her something called sourdough, and it was time Sofie made friends with it.

      
At the bottom of the stairs, her gaze zeroed in on the square of carpet before the now cold hearth, where she'd lain in his arms. Her breath froze in her throat and she stood paralyzed, visualizing herself on the floor beneath Luke's passionate kisses.

      
She swallowed, trying to drag her gaze from that spot, and her thoughts from those memories. She had to stop thinking about him, and about
that
. Especially about that...

      
A tremor chased itself through her body and she drew a deep, fortifying breath. Determined, she marched into the kitchen.