Seeing Is Believing (13 page)
He held Diana’s uncertain gaze, seeing the fear in her eyes. “Are you asking if I believe in your gift?”
She shrugged. “I guess I am. It’s important that you accept me for who and what I am, Wes. I know at the beginning, you thought I was a fake.”
“Not a fake,” he remonstrated gently. “Never that. I just hadn’t run into the kind of world you lived in. It was foreign.”
“You used the word
alien.
”
“Yes, I did. That’s how I felt—at first.” Wes held her hand more tightly, aware how much it meant to Diana to have him accept her abilities. “Try to put yourself in my place for a moment. Try to understand that I had no education whatsoever in metaphysics. To you, it’s like breathing air. To me, it’s something strange that I can’t prove.”
“But you’ve seen it work, Wes. I was accurate on all counts about what I felt in that casita. What I saw after holding that gourd.”
“Yes,” he said, “I realize that now. I still can’t prove how it works, Diana, but I do recognize your gift. I believe in you, in your abilities, whatever they are. Okay?”
Relief splintered through her and her eyes grew as she stared at Wes. He wasn’t kidding her at all; he was serious. “Oh…good.”
He grinned. “What do you say we go back to the hotel?”
* * *
A feeling of satisfaction soared through Wes as he left the hotel office. The night was alive with a swath of stars that blanketed the wide sky above Sedona. He whistled softly, happier than he could ever recall being. The fax detailing his report on Ruth Horner had been sent to Morgan at Perseus, and he was very sure the Psi-Lab officials would stop looking for her after receiving it. Shrugging his shoulders, feeling many loads he’d been carrying slip free, he smiled to himself.
Could anyone have predicted that in three days’ time he would feel like a new man? Feel real hope for the first time in his life? He thought not. Diana’s compassionate face filled his vision, filled his heart. She was soft in so many ways—ways in which he was still hard and unyielding. Diana would teach him about dissolving those barriers he’d lived behind for so many years. She’d teach him about living fully, with all his senses and emotions engaged.
He found Diana out on the deck of their cabin overlooking Oak Creek. The starlight gave a mute radiance to the darkened deck and emphasized the knee-length white cotton nightgown she wore. She turned, as if sensing his presence, because he knew he’d made no noise in approaching. The nightgown was simple but revealed her lovely curves, the lace at her throat emphasizing her femininity. A hair brush was in her hands, and Wes smiled as he drew near.
“Come here, I want to brush that beautiful hair of yours.” He pulled up two lounge chairs and placed them one in front of the other. Wes liked the way her eyes smiled, the way her lips parted at his unexpected request. Taking the brush, he guided her to the chair. She sat with her back to him.
“This is something I’ve been wanting to do ever since we met,” he told her in a low voice as he began to unbraid her thick hair.
With a moan of pleasure, Diana closed her eyes. “You are spoiling me absolutely rotten, Wes McDonald.”
He allowed the glistening strands to fall between his fingers. “I’m spoiling both of us. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to brush a woman’s hair.” Picking up the brush, he whispered near her ear, “Now I’m going to find out.”
A shiver of pleasure raced up Diana’s ear and neck as he placed several small, moist kisses beneath her earlobe. “You talk of dreams,” she said as he began to gently move the brush through her hair. “You’re one to me.”
“I don’t see how,” Wes said with a grimace, being very careful not to pull her hair and hurt her. “I was a hard son of a bitch when you met me.”
“Still,” she said, “there was something about you that drew me, Wes.” Her eyes remaining closed, she absorbed his touch as her hair cascaded about her shoulders. “I could tell you were hurting. I could sense it.”
“But I was taking it out on you.”
“I know.” Her lips parted and the corners turned upward as he tunneled his fingers through her hair. He began to gently massage her scalp, and she lost all thought and simply felt his gentle assault upon her. For a warrior, Wes was incredibly tender. In her mind, Diana replayed their earlier conversation in the car, about him wanting a home, a wife and a family.
Easing away just enough to turn around, she faced him. The satisfaction burning in his eyes made her respond effortlessly as she framed his face with her hands. She could feel the prickle of his beard beneath her palms, feel the warmth of him as a man. His shadowy eyes burned with desire for her.
“When we go home to Cherokee, I’ll take you to a small cabin on a stream that by mom owns. I’d like to stay there for a week just hiking, fishing and sharing with you.”
“Sounds good,” Wes rasped as he slid his hands around her waist and drew her onto his lap. Diana settled against him, her arms going around his neck. As she rested her head against his jaw, he sighed. “I’m still afraid this is a dream,” he admitted slowly. “That you’re a figment of my desperate imagination. I’ve dreamed so long of being able to fall in love, Diana. To dare to think that someone might love me as much as I loved her. To marry and—” he ran his hand gently across her curved abdomen “—to watch a baby grow inside the woman I love, knowing it belongs to both of us. Knowing that the child would have two loving parents who would never give her or him up—ever.”
Diana caressed his hair with her fingers and felt his pain and his dream. There was such fragility in Wes, so much hope linked to so much desperation from his past. “Among the Cherokee people, children are sacred,” she whispered near his ear. “Sacred and greatly loved and protected. An outsider might say we spoil them, but we spoil them with love.”
Wes closed his eyes, his hand resting gently against her belly. She was warm and soft against him, and the light scent of gardenias filled his nostrils. “Morgan’s going to be awfully disappointed that I’m taking all this time off, but he’ll understand. He loves his family with a fierceness I’ve rarely seen in a man. But then, he lost a lot, too, so he knows….”
With a gentle smile, Diana raised her head just enough to connect with his shadowed gaze. “And you will, too. People who lose that much very often cherish what is given back to them. I don’t think you’ll be an exception, darling.”
Burying his face in her thick, silky hair, Wes held Diana with a fierceness that spoke of his love, his commitment to her—to their future—forever.
* * * * *
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ISBN: 9781460392126
Seeing is Believing
Copyright © 2015 by Lindsay McKenna
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