The Loner (15 page)

"I don't fall off my horse." He glanced up from his plate, affronted. "Why are you fretting about this, anyway? I told you I'd make this delay as short as possible. I understand better than anyone how important it is to get Will away from Black Shadow Canyon as fast as possible."

She drew
Xs
in her mashed potatoes with her fork. "You'd be better off sleeping before you make a journey of any kind."

He sat back in his chair and frowned. "Is that what this is about? You're worried about our sleeping arrangements?"

She blinked, her expression suggesting that wasn't her concern at all. Nevertheless, he attempted to reassure her. "Look, Caroline, I know that we have a risky history regarding hotel rooms, but tonight you don't need to worry. After the day we've had, the only thing on my mind is sleep."

Hell, Grey, you are such a liar.

Her cheeks stained pink as she shook her head. "That's not...oh, my. Goodness." Now she was flustered, and she hid it by concentrating on her chicken fried steak. She ate a third of her serving before speaking again in a rush. "I intended to talk to you about Will and Ben and the whole situation, but I'm just so...like you said, after the day we've had...I'm so tired, Logan."

His lips lifted in a half smile. "You've been a real soldier today, Caroline. You're an amazing woman. Now, why don't you take your amazing self upstairs and have your bath and climb into bed. I intend to linger over my meal, then I'll probably take a walk to work the kinks out of my muscles. I'm sure you'll be sound asleep before I make it upstairs."

"Yes. I think I'll do that." Her smile was both grateful and relieved. She dabbed her lips with her napkin, then pushed her head back and stood. "Good night, Logan."

"Good night, Caroline. Sleep tight." Watching her hips sway as she walked away, he murmured, "Don't let the bedbugs bite."

Now, husbands...

Caroline fell asleep in the bathtub and woke when the water cooled and left her chilled. As the events of the day came roaring back, she sat up abruptly and all but leaped from the tub. How long had she been asleep?

Swiftly, she dried herself, then donned the nightgown and robe one of the churchwomen had provided her.
Please don't let Logan already be in the room.
She couldn't face him again tonight. She simply couldn't!

She exited the bathing room and spied a matron waiting in the hallway. "Finally," the woman said with a disapproving sniff.

Caroline smiled sheepishly as she rushed past, saying, "Sorry. I fell asleep."

At the door to her room, she paused and listened, but could hear no sounds from inside.
Please oh please oh please.
She stuck her key in the lock, drew a deep, bracing breath and opened the door.. .to an empty room. "Thank you, Jesus."

She left her robe on and crawled in bed. She wanted to turn on the light and check the time, but knowing her luck, he'd pick that moment to walk into the room. So she pulled the covers up to her chin, closed her eyes and went to sleep. At least, she tried to go to sleep, but the day's events twisted through her mind like colors in a kaleidoscope. Not wanting to think about that, she attempted to focus her thoughts on Will. That only made her think about tomorrow, and the inevitable confrontation when she told Logan the truth.

She didn't want to think about that, either.

"I am such a coward. Putting this off."

I have good excuses. He does need his rest. He can't help Cade if he is half-dead from weariness himself.

"Still, excuses are all they are. I
am
a coward."

She sat up, punched her pillow, took half a dozen deep breaths to calm herself down, dropped back onto her back and started counting sheep. She'd jumped one hundred twenty-seven fluffy white animals over the fence when the door opened. She peered through slitted lids as Logan stepped inside.

The hall light shining behind him shadowed his broad-shouldered form before he shut the door, plunging the room into darkness. She opened her eyes wide at that point and stared in the direction from which the sounds were coming. Rustling-of-clothing sounds. The thunk of a belt buckle hitting the floor. More clothing rustles.

She couldn't see a thing in the darkness.

Floorboards squeaked as he stepped toward the bed. Caroline slammed her eyes shut. She lay stiff as a board, which she knew would give her wakefulness away. She must relax. Loosen her muscles.

The covers moved and the bed dipped.

She waited, pretending sleep, bracing herself to ignore his advance.

He stretched out, moaned softly with delight.

She sensed the heat from his body and her pulse pounded. She breathed in the scent of soap, not lavender like the bar she had used, but something different. Something cleanly masculine.

She waited.

He started to snore.

Well. Her eyes flicked open. She scowled into the inky darkness. Well. He's keeping his word. That's good. Right?

That's what she wanted.

She hadn't expected him to keep his word. She'd expected him to at least try something. He had every other time they had passed time together in a hotel room.

Shamefully disappointed, Caroline rolled over, punched her pillow and summoned the sheep once again. Her last conscious count was three hundred forty-seven.

At some point, she was back in her dream.

Back on the dark plain, at the center of a circle of swirling, churning white tornadoes. She stands on a pitcher's mound, a baseball in her hand. Will is at the plate with a bat. He is smiling and laughing and calling for her to make a pitch.

She doesn 't want to throw the ball. She holds it in a fierce grip, her right arm stiff and heavy as lead.

"Come on, Mom. Throw it. Watch me hit it halfway to Oklahoma! Hurry, Mom. Throw the ball."

"No, Will. It's dangerous!" She doesn't know how she knows, but the knowledge burns her heart like a brand.

The baseball grows warm, then hot. Its temperature continues to rise until her skin begins to burn. Pain radiates from her hand, but still, she holds the ball in a death grip. She dare not let it go.

Then her hand burns away and the ball drops. But
instead of falling to the ground, it slowly circles her. Once. Twice.

She tries to run, but her feet won't move. She tries to call out to her son, but she can't draw a breath. The baseball bursts into flames and picks up speed, swirling around her, faster and faster and faster. Beyond her the circle of white tornadoes moves closer.

Will's voice calls, "Mama. Throw the ball, Mama."

The tornadoes chant, "Liar. Liar. Liar."

"Mama! Throw the ball."

"Liar. Liar. Liar."

The flaming baseball whirls and twirls.

"Liar. Liar. Liar."

"Mama!"

The baseball circles her ankles so closely that it singes her skin. Then it travels up her body in a widening circle as if climbing a funnel until it rises above her head. At that point she can breathe again and she screams, "Will! Run!"

But it is too late. The flaming baseball leaves its path and shoots straight toward her son.

Filled with terror, she watches him draw his bat back. Like a comet, the ball hurtles toward him. He starts his swing.

"Will...no!" she sobs.

His bat connects, the ball explodes, and when the fire dies, her son is gone.

"Will!" She wrenched herself forward and awoke to find herself sitting up in bed, her heart pounding, her mouth dry. "Dear God, Will!"

"Shush, Caro. You were dreaming again." Beside her, Logan sat up, switched on the bedside lamp and pulled her into his arms. "You had another nightmare. Understandable after the day we've had."

The events of the afternoon came rushing back. The tornado. The dead passengers. Poor, broken and bloodied Cade. She trembled like a leaf in a gale.

Logan stroked her hair and spoke in a soothing tone. "It's okay, sunshine."

"No. No, it's not."

"Look, I know you're worried sick about Will, but you need to listen to me. I will save our son." He pressed a kiss against her head.

Oh God. Despair welled up inside her. He didn't understand. He
couldn't
understand. He didn't know the truth.

In her mind's eye, she saw Cade Hollister wrapped in barbed wire spinning through the sky, and at that, Caroline did something she very rarely did. She started to cry. "I'm so sorry, Logan."

"Shush, darlin'," he said, his hands continuing to stroke her, to comfort her. "Don't do that. Don't cry."

"It's my fault."

He chuckled softly, then pressed a kiss against her temple. "Your fault? I know you're a strong woman, Caro, but really, I don't think you command the winds."

"Cade wouldn't have been there if not for me."

"Now, don't do that." His big hands stroked up and down her arms. 'There's no call for you to feel guilty. He was there for me, and because that's the kind of guy he is. Cade wouldn't want either of us to feel guilty."

"But that's because... Will. I have to tell you about Will."

"Ah, baby." He kissed away a tear. "It was just a dream. Let it go." He kissed the tears on her other cheek. "You're shaking like a hen in a dust bath. Don't go back to that place."

His warm care and tenderness pierced the chill of her shame and guilt, touching a place inside her that had been frozen and lonely for so long. Fifteen years had passed since this man—since any man—had held her this way. Fifteen long, hard, lonely years.

She was too tired, too weary, too heartsick to resist the temptation. "Then keep me here, Logan. Make everything else go away. Just for tonight. Just let me have tonight."

Yearning glowed in her eyes and Logan knew he couldn't resist the quiet plea. He ran a finger along her cheek, her expression pale in the dim lamplight.

So pretty she was. So unique, unlike anyone else he'd ever been with. Strong, yet vulnerable. Surprisingly brave. A fine woman. A fine mother for his child.

Of all the too-many-to-count mistakes he'd made in his life, leaving Caroline Kilpatrick Grey alone in that hotel room fifteen years ago had been one of the worst.

And here, now, she wasn't asking for tomorrow. Tonight all she wanted was escape. She wanted a few hours here in the darkness where she could escape the horror of the day, her fear for their son and the nightmares that plagued her sleep. Logan desired the same escape that Caroline craved, but as he stared into those lovely, liquid violet eyes, somewhere deep inside himself, he knew she needed...she deserved... more.

She needed a husband. A real husband. One who didn't play at it part-time.

What if...

It floated through his head like a fantasy. What if it wasn't just for tonight? What if he put the past behind them and made a future with her? Made a life with her? It could be so sweet....

Stop it, Grey. You know better. You reached for that once before and look where it got you. You 've been there, lived it and dug the graves to prove it.

He pushed fruitless fantasies from his mind, then stroked the hair away from her face and kissed her.

A sigh caressed his lips in return, and she pressed against him ever so slightly. Taking the cue, he moved his hands from her shoulders to the gentle dip of her waist. He explored her with lazy precision, reveling in her softness. As her body melted into him, he deepened the kiss, touching his tongue to hers, as he laid her back against the bed.

Unable to help himself, he made a low sound of desire and need as he trailed kisses up her neck. "Touch me, Caroline."

Tentatively, she touched his bare chest with trembling fingers. Featherlight at first, she grew bolder with his whispered approval. The heat of her hands stoked embers deep within.

My wife, he thought. If only for tonight.

Feeling an emotion he wasn't certain he could name, Logan lowered his mouth to Caroline's once again. This time, she matched his hunger.

He gave over to her completely, soaking in the smell of soap and warm woman, letting the sensations surround him. His body strained against her thigh, nudging, tempting. The need to make her his again was so powerful that Logan was certain that even another tornado wouldn't stop him.

He steeped himself in sensation. The taste of her...sweet, so sweet. The brush of her hair draping over his arm and shoulder and the lovely softness of her cotton-clad breasts pressing against him. The sounds she made...the perfect little moans of need—never in his life had he wanted a woman this badly.

Nibbling on her earlobe, he brushed his fingers along her breast and pulled at the ribbons on her robe, then the buttons of her gown to seek the warm skin beneath. Tentatively, he palmed the rounded softness, then rubbed a lazy thumb over her nipple.

"Oh," she gasped, arching into his hand.

As she gripped his shoulders, something in Caroline's voice gave him pause. Meeting her eyes, he froze when he noticed a fresh teardrop trail down to her pillow. "Caroline?"

"It's all right. Don't stop." Grabbing at his hand, she stayed his retreat. "Please don't stop. I'm just.. .feeling so much. It's been so long."

He hadn't forgotten that she'd named him as her one and only lover, and the knowledge filled him with a fierce, possessive satisfaction. "You think you're feeling now?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "Just wait."

He pulled the robe from her completely. He wanted her bare. He wanted her beneath him. He wanted her body one with his own.

So he stripped off her gown and left her naked. Skin on skin, he kissed her with more insistence, their tongues meeting and caressing. Remembering. Rediscovering. How could he have forgotten this warm, wondrous woman? She was like a song whose melody he'd remembered, but the lyrics remained forgotten.

Until now.

Now he remembered her. He would remember all of her all over again. Covering her supple breasts with both palms, he rubbed and teased the responsive tips with his fingers, enjoying every moan, every gasp.