Stormy Passion (32 page)

“
Maybe you’ll feel better
after a good night sleep,” Carol said as she stood and stretched.
“I’m tied myself.”

When everything had been prepared for the
next day, Brenna wearily climbed the stairs. She was dog-tired as
she made her way to the top of the landing then proceeded down the
hall. As she neared her room, she heard laughter from behind the
Granny Room door. Her chest ached with the familiar longing she'd
thought she'd buried some time ago. She could pick out Taylor's
voice from a million people.

At least he was happy.

And she was miserable.

Inside her own room, Brenna leaned against
the wood panel and closed her eyes. She was safe in her room--in
here she could shut out the rest of the world. She pulled her
shirttail out of her slacks and began to unbutton her blouse. She
tried hard to suppress the tears that had gathered in her eyes.

And she hadn't thought this day could get
any
worse.

She stared at the mirror and shook her head
as tears trickled down her cheeks. Look at her. She couldn't even
have had the luck to appear her best. Taylor probably thought she'd
really gone downhill since he'd last seen her, and he must be very
much relieved he hadn't married her.

Brenna felt old tonight as she pulled on her
red flannel nightgown. Old, ugly, and very much unloved. She'd been
so busy surviving these last three years that she had pushed
romance to the back of her mind. Now she needed desperately to be
held, and there was no one to comfort her.

Climbing into bed, she wrapped her arms
around herself. Why did life have to be so cruel? She had done
nothing to deserve this. She had made the only choice she could
have: protecting her sister and saving Taylor's reputation.

But now she felt as if she was being
punished.

Between her exhaustion and tears, Brenna
finally fell asleep.

But in her dreams she was held by a
flaxen-haired man with the most magnificent, muscular body she'd
ever seen, and when he glanced down at her, she was captured by
Taylor's vibrant sky-blue eyes. The love that shone in their depths
warmed the coldness in her chest, and she found peace at long last
... peace.

Taylor couldn't sleep.

He knew Carol was exhausted because she had
fallen asleep quickly. Even the fact that he held a beautiful woman
hadn't stopped that green-eyed devil from entering his mind and
producing the familiar desire that ripped his guts apart.

After many restless hours, he finally gave up
and slid out of bed. He crossed over to the window and stared at
the sleepy little town where the sun was just coming up behind the
mountains. He glanced back at Carol who was still fast asleep and
decided there was no need to wake her just because demons plagued
him.

Moving quietly about the room, he found a
pair of chocolate brown slacks and slipped them on. Then he found
his oatmeal-colored sweater and slid it over his head before
returning to the window. He looked out again across the frozen
stillness. A breeze played with the tree by his window and he heard
the icy, pine needles clinking together like wind chimes. Hollow
Ridge reminded him of a quaint village out of a good novel. The
kind of place where life was gentle and slow, where neighbors all
had time to speak to each other ... a place, he sighed, that didn't
exist anymore.

Shaking off his sadness, he hoped at least it
would be a good day for skiing. He would go out early and find
another place to stay. He couldn't remain under the same roof as
Brenna. The desire to murder her one minute and take her in his
arms the next would stretch his nerves beyond endurance.

How could she have just stood there in the
dining room looking as innocent as the pure white snow? When he
knew she was spineless. He despised her for that. She hadn't even
had the common decency to tell him face to face she was leaving
him. She’d just sneaked away in the middle of the night. And the
worse thing was he had never seen it coming. What a good little
actress she'd been.

But he'd heard rumors that someone had seen
Brenna leave town with another man. At first he'd refused to
believe it, but when reality had sunk in, his heart had turned to
stone. What other reason would she have had? She had put off their
marriage because of her parents murder, and he could understand the
strain she was under, but evidently his understanding hadn’t been
enough and she’d turned to someone else.

A black lab running across the snow caught
his attention, and automatically he thought of Brenna's thick,
black tresses. Her hair was longer now, hanging to the middle of
her back. He could shut his eyes and smell the French lavender
fragrance she always wore. How he had loved to bury his face in
that glorious mane. Clenching his jaw, he balled his fist and
struck the side of the windowsill, splitting his knuckles in the
process.

“
Damn,” he swore under his
breath and shook his hand. Good thing Carol was a sound sleeper,
and she wore ear plugs so that nothing disturbed her
sleep.

Quickly, he grabbed a handkerchief from the
dresser and wrapped his bloody hand. After all this time, he still
hadn't learned to control his temper where Brenna was concerned.
She could send his blood raging through his body until he couldn't
think straight. He could pretty much describe their passion the
same way.

He located his shaving bag and after several
useless minutes of fumbling through the contents he gave up finding
a bandage. In order to get some gauze, he had little choice but to
go downstairs.

The house was quiet as he moved down the
steps. Evidently, no one else had a problem sleeping. After looking
for bandages in the downstairs bathroom with no luck, Taylor headed
for the kitchen.

Someone stirred behind the kitchen doors.
Could it be Brenna? No. She said she owned the place, so she'd have
a staff to do the cooking. Maybe the cook could help him out of his
predicament. Already, he wondered how he was going to explain the
accident to Carol. He hated to lie, but the truth would never
do.

As he pushed open the door, the aroma of
fresh coffee made him forget his hand. A good cup of hot coffee was
just what he needed ... something to soothe the savage beast.

But it wasn't the cook who stood at the
kitchen counter.

It was Brenna.

Stunned, he tried to close the door and leave
before she could see him, but it was too late. The hinges squeaked,
and Brenna swung around. Her black hair swirled over her shoulders
and her bright green eyes shimmered as if she'd been crying. He
wondered what or who could have produced her tears.

She looked so unhappy.
It's none of
your
business,
he reminded himself. He could tell she
waited for him to speak.

Not finding the words, he could only stare at
her. She returned his gaze as if she didn't believe he stood in
front of her. And as far as he was concerned, she was much too
close.

“
Can I help you?” she
finally asked.

“
You've helped me way too
much in the past,” he said scathingly. “What are you doing
here?”

Brenna sighed. “This is
my
kitchen,
Taylor. I live here.”

Her voice still held that touch of silkiness
he always remembered. His body responded. Gritting his teeth, he
felt like a fool standing in the doorway unable to speak ... unable
to move. After several minutes, he remembered the reason he'd come
downstairs. And it wasn't to see Brenna. But he needed help, he
reminded himself. “M--My hand.” He held up the bloody rag, which
made his cuts look twice as bad as they were.

Brenna gasped and her hand flew to her mouth.
“My God, Taylor. Come here.”

She removed the rag then took his hand and
held it over the sink, washing his split knuckles with warm water.
“Does it hurt much?”

“
Just a little.” Taylor
managed not to laugh, for he'd ceased feeling any pain from the
moment she touched him. She tenderly cleansed the wound, and he was
glad she had her back to him so she couldn't see how her closeness
affected him. Because he
would not
let her back into his
life again. He bent his head and breathed in the French lavender
scent that had been engraved in his mind.

“
Here, wrap this cloth
around your hand, and I'll go get some bandages.” She turned her
head so fast he had to jerk himself back.

He watched her walk away, his eyes drawn to
the sway of her hips encased in perfect-fitting jeans. He knew he
needed to get his mind on something else even in spite of the way
his body screamed for release. He couldn't very well run upstairs
and take a cold shower. “You wouldn't consider sharing a little
coffee, would you?”

Brenna smiled, which made her eyes glow as
she came back to the counter, holding her medical supplies.

Taylor's jaw grew tight and his pulse drummed
as she awakened long dormant feelings. How easy it would be to
forget about the bad times. But he wouldn't let that happen ... not
this time. However, he couldn't help wondering just how happy she
really was here. Had she married her lover? He looked down at her
hand but saw no ring. Of course, it should be
his
ring on
her hand, if anyone's, he reminded himself with cold revulsion. Her
eyes held his a moment longer than they should, and that tender
spot she'd always claimed surfaced and momentarily soothed his
anger.

“
I think I can manage to
fix you a cup.” She picked up the pot and poured the steaming
liquid into a mug, then proceeded to put cream in the coffee. “I
believe it's one sugar and generous cream.”

“
You
remembered.”

Brenna didn't trust herself to respond to the
tenderness in his voice. He was more like the old Taylor she
knew.

The one she remembered.

The one she'd loved.

The one she had walked away from.

She damn sure didn't want to break out in
another fit of tears as she dwelled over her past mistakes.

She was different.

Taylor was different.

Pushing her emotions aside, she cleared her
throat and said, “Let me see your hand again.”

Taylor hesitantly obeyed. She tenderly held
his hand, spreading out his fingers with hers as she carefully
dried the blood. The heat from his skin penetrated her with a stab
of intimacy. She reached in the first aid kit and picked up a brown
bottle. “This is going to burn,” she warned as she saturated a
cotton ball with iodine.

“
I'm a big boy.” He grinned
with the youthful charm she remembered all too well. Everything
about him was too familiar. If only she could shut her eyes and
erase the last three years. “I can take it,” he assured
her.

“
Are you sure?” Brenna
dabbed the cut and watched him flinch. “Big boys can hurt,
too.”

“
Oh, I have, sweetheart. I
have.”

She winced at the ache in his voice, but
Brenna didn't look at him. And she didn't dare answer the questions
she knew he longed to ask. All she needed was to have his mother on
her back again. But worse, she couldn't bear to see the accusations
in his eyes.

So she ignored him and instead wrapped the
gauze meticulously around his knuckles, then followed it with white
tape, concentrating on each little move she made, all the while
telling herself he hadn't been hurt too deeply since he was
planning to marry Carol.

Concentrate on something else,
Brenna
.

She looked at the bandage hand again and
wondered if he needed stitches because the cuts had been deep, but
she had done the best she could. “How did you do this?”

“
Let's just say I was angry
and tried to take it out on the wall.” His eyes raked over her
contemptuously and his body stiffened. “Don't worry.” He laughed.
“I was the only thing damaged.”

Brenna felt like she’d been slapped. How
could he think she'd care more about the wall than him? His
laughter had been replaced with the coldness she'd seen earlier.
“It was because of me, wasn't it?” she whispered.

He nodded his head slowly while his crystal
blue eyes bored a hole in her, and she could see the unanswered
‘whys’. She had effectively destroyed his love for her. She could
see that he hated her now. Of all the things to happen, she’d never
wanted this. Brenna had never wanted to hurt him. She had left
Taylor a short note explaining she had to get out of town because
of the scandal and she really wasn’t suppose to do that. No contact
had been the agreement.

Why didn't he understand? She was dying
inside--she was the one who had lost everything.

Biting her bottom lip, Brenna longed to
explain to Taylor what had happened, but if his mother found out,
Brenna would have to pay back the money his mother had given her
for Lisa's surgery. It was all Brenna could do to make ends meet.
They would lose their home, and there was no way in hell she could
go back to River Run. Besides she knew what it was like to be
betrayed by her father. No matter what she thought of Vivian
Rothschild, she knew Taylor loved his mother and didn’t see the
ugly side that Brenna had seen in the woman. She didn't want him to
experience the distrust and confusion she'd been through.

She tore her gaze away from his. She couldn't
stand to see his hurt and confusion, or worse, his anger. What
could she say? God knows she wanted to make him feel better. She
could see it was eating at him, but she couldn’t tell him why she
left. It was too late.

He'd have to think the worst. However, if
he'd really loved her, he would have known somewhere deep in his
soul that she'd had a good reason for doing what she had.