Mending Fences (10 page)

Confusion flickered through his eyes. She hadn’t expected him to detect the change, but it saved her from having to work so hard to say no.

She sighed and pressed a hand to his chest. He shifted, allowing her to sit up, then moved to sit behind her. His hand smoothed her hair, likely a wild mass by now. Oh, she wanted him so much. He was a gentle, wonderful man. He was also accustomed to getting whatever he wanted, so how could she expect him to abide by the boundaries she had to maintain? She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but he wouldn’t stick around either.

Even in her wildest dreams, she knew he wouldn’t want someone quite this messed up.

“Curran, this is going to sound like a line, but I need you to know that it’s not you. It’s totally me.”

He leaned against her back, ran his hands down her arms, pressed his lips to her nape, breathing against her skin and sending a shiver through her. “I want to make love with you.” The rumble in his quiet voice seemed more intense, infused with fire.

He wanted her. The ice crystallizing inside her hurt, but it couldn’t be any other way. She stood up, took a step, but his fingers closed around her wrist.

“Don’t walk away from me, Victoria.”

She froze.

“Don’t walk away from me, Victoria.” Nate’s fist slammed into her ribs—

She shook her head, forcing the memory back to the depths it came from, but she was unable to lose the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, the panic chilling her. She couldn’t look at Curran. She felt him behind her, his hands grasping her shoulders.

“Victoria.” His voice, low and quiet, still held a slight edge from the passion ebbing slowly away. He turned her to face him. “You’re dead white.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to control the shaking. “I, uh, I don’t feel very well, Curran. You should go.”

“Actually, I think I should stay.” He ran his fingers along her jaw, nudging her chin up, urging her to look at him. “What happened?”

She forced herself to meet his gaze. She found warmth in his eyes, his brow knitted with concern. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

He shook his head. “Wrong answer. You’re not a very good liar, Victoria. I frightened you, and I want to know why.”

“You didn’t frighten me.”

“Oh, really? One minute we’re loving up just fine, the next minute, you ice over in mid-step—” His eyes brightened with recognition, his jaw tensed. “I’ve seen that happen before. When we talked about Kelli’s past that first day, I saw a lesser version of this reaction.”

She stepped away from him, unable to hold herself together under his gentle scrutiny. “I should have warned you I’m kind of temperamental.”

She didn’t get far before she felt him behind her. “No, I don’t think you are.” His voice was low, soft. Dangerous. “I do think you have the occasional flashback from someone beating the hell out of you.”

If she’d ever doubted Curran’s reputation for zeroing in on the source of problems, she doubted no longer. He didn’t touch her, but her skin tingled with the warmth of him standing close.

“I’m sorry I’ve ruined the evening.” She could barely hear her own voice, and wondered briefly if he heard her. She felt so small inside, so cornered. She hated the fear Nate had instilled in her so long ago. Fear she might never completely rid herself of.

Curran’s hands settled on her waist, he nuzzled the spot just below her ear. “I don’t want an apology, honey. Just tell me his name.”

A shock jolted her heart, and she caught her breath as she turned to look at him. She recognized the expression in his green eyes. Anger. Protection.

“Nathaniel Louis Fielder, Jr.”

“Where is he?”

Her heart lurched again at the tightness in his voice. He was ready to tear Nate apart. “Serving time in California, thank God.”

His eyes closed for a moment and he blew out a deep breath. When he looked at her again, the anger had cooled slightly. He led her back to the couch, sat with her. “Tell me about it.”

“Curran, I haven’t talked about it in a very long time.”

Flickers of warmth skittered across the ice inside her as his fingers laced through hers. “Sometimes it helps to talk it out of your system.”

She’d talked to counselors until her throat dried. It had helped as much as it was ever going to. The remainder, well, that she just had to learn to live with. To get past. “It only helps so much. Besides, I’m sure you don’t really want the gory details.”

“It doesn’t help that I’m still practically a stranger, right?” He said it as a matter of fact, without emotion.

“It isn’t that. I know you.”

He smiled then, a little. “But it’s still new. That will change, given time.”

Fluttering filled her insides. “I thought I totally ruined this.”

“No, not at all. Promise me something, though.” He caressed her hair, bracketed her face in his hands. “Don’t push me away when I trigger a memory. Tell me. Work through it with me. Otherwise, he wins.”

She nodded. He gently nudged the tip of her nose with his, then tilted his head and kissed her softly, carefully. When he pulled back, he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers.

“I think the mood I was cultivating earlier is beyond hope of resurrection tonight.”

She drew a fingertip along his jaw. “That’s hardly fair to you.”

Curran laughed softly. “It is what it is.” He glanced at his watch. “And right now, it’s late. You all right?”

“Yes. I still feel a little out of balance, but sleep is usually a good cure for that.”

“I’ll check on you tomorrow, after I take Robby skiing.” He kissed her cheek, then retrieved his coat. She walked with him to the door, opened it for him, warmed by the brush of his lips across hers.

She stood in the doorway, shivering as the truck engine roared to life, watching until the headlights disappeared up the lane. She sighed and pushed the door closed, leaning her forehead against it. This was hardly the first time she’d been thrown to the past by something someone said. A phrase on a TV show even did it once. Usually, she just shook the memories off and went back to what she was doing. Having such a sharp memory surface while she was with Curran messed with her mind.

He really was wonderful. He made her laugh, he was intelligent, he could converse about anything. He even opened doors for her in a way that made her feel precious. And there was the physical side of things. She’d found a few men attractive in her life, but Curran ignited a heat she’d only felt flashes of before.

Being afraid of him was stupid. The way he treated his sister and nephew told her that much. He’d probably break her heart, but he would never physically hurt her.

Fortified by that knowledge, Victoria settled into bed in the guest room. The more she thought about Curran, the more she wished he was there beside her, holding her.

Then came the thought that snapped her wide awake and filled her with regret.

If it had been Curran, instead of Nate, she wouldn’t have given up the baby.

She pressed her face into her pillow and sobbed.

* * * *

Curran couldn’t sleep. After reading the same paragraph in his book four times, he knew he couldn’t read, either. By three-twenty, he gave up trying. He yanked on a pair of jeans, a thick sweatshirt, boots, a wool hat, and his sheepskin coat, then left the house.

God must have a wicked sense of humor to make it this damn cold. His ears and cheeks burned with cold and his fingertips were freezing inside his gloves before he reached the barn.

He slipped inside, felt along the wall for the light switch, then stopped himself. No sense in waking all the animals. He grabbed a torch from the tack room, clicked it on, then went to Peg-leg’s huge box and shone the beam on the bison. The animal stood with his eyes closed, dozing.

“Peg, how’s those legs, mate?” He pitched his voice low, but a couple of the horses heard him and whickered. He walked slowly past the other stalls, rubbing velvet horse noses where the curious leaned out to see why he was there. Finally, he returned to the bison’s box and unlatched the door.

Peg snorted and stepped back to give him room by the door. He patted Peg’s huge head and knelt, checking the scabbed wounds and new, pink skin for signs of oozing or infection. Nothing. The beast seemed to be healing just fine.

He stood and leaned against Peg-leg’s massive side. “She’s going to be the death of me, Peggy. She took me from rock hard to desperate to defend her in about two minutes flat. What in the hell am I supposed to do with a woman like that?”

Curran closed his eyes, propped up by the bison. His focus was usually so clear with women. With Victoria, it was everywhere at once. He wanted to kiss her, hold her, laugh with her, take care of her. He wanted to watch her face as he slid inside her and made her come, then wrap her in his arms as they slept.

He wanted to look in those hauntingly familiar golden brown eyes and see only himself, none of the ghosts from her past.

He scratched Peg behind the ear. He needed to know what that son of a bitch had done to her. The wrenching in his gut when he thought of someone hurting Victoria might lessen if he knew what had actually happened, rather than letting his broad imagination fill in the blanks. One day, when the time was right, he’d ask her.

One day, when the time was right, he’d make love to her. But she was more fragile than she wanted to admit, and he was willing to wait.

He rubbed the bison’s shoulder and left the box. He stepped through the door into a blast of freezing wind. The truck caught his eye, and he considered it for a moment. Drive over there, wake her, love her while she’s still half asleep and unable to think too much about her past, her fears…

It sounded like heaven. Hell would follow when dealing with her anger, or worse, her shaken trust, for taking advantage of her. He sighed and trudged back to the house.

One day. Soon.

* * * *

“Come in, Victoria!”

Victoria barely heard Kelli’s shout, muffled by the steel and frosted glass door. She turned the knob and stepped inside the woman’s house.

Kelli sat cross-legged on the deep blue carpet of the living room, surrounded by boxes. Some were spilling over with photographs, others were stuffed with papers and die cuts. Scissors, glue, colorful stickers, and a massive binder with a few pages in it covered the walnut coffee table. She brushed a lock of dark-blonde hair off her forehead and grinned up at Victoria.

“That glorious hair of yours caught my eye as you came to the door. If you’re in search of Curran, he’s not here. He and Rob went to lunch. They’re having man time.”

Victoria shook her head to clear the wistfulness that pricked her. Curran took his responsibility as male role-model to his nephew seriously. He’d make a wonderful father. “I didn’t see his truck. Actually, I came to see you.”

Kelli beamed. “Oh! How lovely! Here—” She grabbed a box off the pale blue recliner near her. “Take a seat, stay and chat for a while.”

“I’d like that.” Victoria never had many female friends, and while she hung out with Mara on occasion, Kelli was really the only woman she was close to these days. She craved female company.

She sat down, looking over the explosion in the room. “I never knew anyone who actually made scrapbooks.”

“I love it. I started collecting photos and stories and such ages ago. I’m working on Robby’s right now. Christmas pictures. I’m a bit behind.”

Kelli handed her a stack of photographs. “Rob and I spent last Christmas with my mum and dad. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of being able to go to the beach in December.”

“How did he handle the flight?”

“Pretty well. Thank God for in-flight movies and video games.”

Victoria looked through the pictures. Rob opening gifts. Rob with a smiling gray-haired woman. “Is this your mother?”

Kelli glanced at the photograph. “Yeah.”

Same nose, eyes. “Curran looks like her.”

“Quite a bit, yeah. I take after Dad.”

“Do you go back to Australia often?”

Kelli glued a fancy yellow die cut frame around one photo on a red sheet of paper. “At least once a year.” She looked sideways at Victoria. “You know he doesn’t go back, right?”

She nodded. “I never quite got him to discuss why.”

“Because he’s darned stubborn. He’s got it in his head that he was a difficulty Mum was glad to be rid of. I was really too young to understand everything that happened, but I remember he fought with her and Dad over everything from money to curfews.”

Kelli rummaged through a box and came up with a tube of clear glitter. “He packed a bag one day and moved in with some friends over in Gold Coast. He got into some trouble, partying, stealing, that sort of thing. Total delinquent. Next thing I knew, Mum told me his father took him to the U.S. For a long time, I thought she lied to me, because he didn’t contact us. I thought he was dead.”

“He sounds like kind of a jerk in his younger years.”

Kelli laughed. “Still is, sometimes. He’s a good man though. I don’t know what Rob and I would’ve done without him.”

Victoria picked up a scrapbook with a dark green cover from the box near her feet. “May I?”