The Touch of Sage (47 page)

“
Ain
’
t I?
”
he asked, cutting the rope at her knees.
“
Wasn
’
t bad enough I was ignorant and let that cat get to ya,
” he began.
“
I had to go and let it nearly tear ya to bits.
”
He cut the ropes
that bound her hands and
then the ones binding her arms.

Sage rubbed at her sore wrists with her hands as she said,
“
That wasn
’
t your fault.
None of it.
You couldn
’
t have known that cat was
—”

“
I couldn
’
t even face ya after,
”
he said.
He reached up caressing the bareness
of her shoulder with one hand—
his fingers lingering on the scars left by the mountain lion
’
s teeth.
Every inch of her flesh tingled
at
his touch.
She wanted so desperately to throw herself into his arms.
Yet fear
,
coupled with the need
to remain strong and
restrain her tears, kept her from it.

“
I was sick to death about it.
I knew ya musta thought I was the weakest man ya ever did come across.
”

“
How could I have thought that?
”
she asked.
“
You saved my life.
”

“
Maybe,
”
he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“
Maybe?
”
Sage asked in a whisper.
How could he even think for one moment that he hadn
’
t saved her life?
The gruesome scars on his chest were proof enough!

“
And then that mess with Ivy,
”
he mumbled, rising from the bed.
He returned the knife to its place in his boot.
“
I shouldn
’
ta said the things I did to ya yesterday in town.
”

Sage was trembling, tears brimming in her eyes, begging for release, but she held them back.
She couldn
’
t let Reb see her cry.
He
’
d think she was weak.
Wouldn
’
t he?
Yet he still believed she thought he was weak because of the mountain lion attack
,
and she didn
’t. Maybe—
maybe he wouldn
’
t think her tears were weak either.
Still, she held them back.

It was all wrong somehow.
He wasn
’
t angry for finding her tied up in his house.
He didn
’
t seem angry about anything.
He only seemed defeated—calm, tired
,
and defeated. He didn
’
t even seem fearful.
Eugenia said he was afraid, but Sage did not sense it in him.
Eugenia had been wrong.

As Sage sat trembling—
so desp
erately holding back her tears—
confusion washed over her.
She had expected Reb to be angry at finding her there.
Irritated his privacy had been breached.
But he only seemed amused by the widows
’
antics.
Sage had expected, even hoped
for an angry outburst from him—
something to perhaps provoke her into her own confessions.
She was unprepared for his composure.

Reb smiled at her, his eyes warm and fascinating.
He held his hand out to her.
“
Come on, you brazen hussy,
”
he said
,
winking at her.
“
Let
’
s haul ya on home.
”

As Sage placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her stand up from the bed, she f
ancied the life was draining from
her.
She was dazed, unable t
o believe the entire experience. A
ll the widows
’
planning and mischi
ef—
it was all for naught.
The ebb of dying hope throbbed through her body as the familiar pain of heartache
plunged into
her heart.
As he led her toward the door, she relented then—relented and freed her tears.

Ruthie was nowhere near—there was no rain—
but she could no longer stop her pain from manifesting itself through her tears.
She made no noise—
no sniffle or sound to indicate her tears had begun.
Glancing up quickly, she was grateful Reb was looking forward as he l
ed her toward the bedroom door—
thankful he had not yet seen her weakness.

When he reached the bedroom door
,
however, he paused. He still did not look back at her, only paused, casting his gaze to the floor for a moment.
Unexpectedly then, he reached out and closed the bedroom door, shutting them in the room.

Sage
’
s tears increased as she stood behind him.
She
was the coward!
She was!
Why couldn
’
t she just open her mouth and tell him she was sorry for being so guarded?
Why couldn
’
t s
he just tell him she loved him—
that she knew she would die if he did not love her in return?

Reb did not speak at first, only continued to face the door.
He lowered his head as he mumbled,
“
I can
’
t take ya back.
”
He shook his head and added,
“
Not without tastin
’
ya one more time first.
I swear, Sage Willows, whenever yer around I feel like I ain
’
t had nothin
’
to drink in a month.
”

Sage gasped as he suddenly turned, taking hold of her shoulders, spinning her around and rather roughly shoving her back against the bedroom door.

His head still bent before her
,
he began,
“
Sage, I…
”
but when he looked up at her, his words were silenced.

Reb had meant t
o steal one last kiss from her—
determined to savor her mouth once more before freeing her.
But as he looked upon her, he was awestruck at the vision before him.
He wasn
’
t certain he was awake at first
. He knew he must be dreaming—
for
Sage Willows never cried—n
ever!
Not without the benefit of the rain to mask her tears.
Yet she stood before him, tears spilling from her eyes and over her cheeks in astounding profusion.

Had he hurt her when he
’
d turned her to face him?
Had she been hurt during the widows
’
kidnapping scheme?
He looked her up and down quickly.
He didn
’
t see any injuries
.

Sage tu
rned her face away from him then—
turned her head to one side as if she were ashamed he
’
d seen her tears.
Reb
’s heart began to race—
he felt his breathing increase.
Could it be?
Could it possibly be she meant to forgive him for his weakness with the cat?
For his asinine behavior where Ivy was concerned?
Reb felt hope building in him—
felt strength returning to his limbs.
Perhaps his Aunt Eugenia had been right that day she
’
d scolded him for not going to Sage after the
mountain lion attack. Perhaps—
just perhaps
—
he
’
d misread Sage
’
s reaction the day he
’d gone to the boarding house
to apologize to her and found Ivy Dalton there.
Was Sage as afraid as he was of disappointment and heartache?

His mouth watered for her, but there were things to be said between them first.
He swallowed his desire and let hope lead him.

“
Are you thinkin
’
on forgivin
’
me, Sage?
”
Reb asked.
Sage was embarrassed by her tears, but his words stunned her so completely she could not help looking at him again.

“
What?
”
she asked in a broken whisper.

“
Are…are you thinkin
’
you can forgive me?
”
he asked again.

“
Forgive
you
?
”
she cried.
“
Forgive you for what?
For walkin
’
up to my front door one day and makin
’
everythin
’
so wonderful?
For savin
’
my life when that cat came after me?
For thinkin
’
I was…for thinkin
’ I was as cold
hearted as Ivy Dalton when I…when I was too afraid to tell you…when I was too afraid to tell you…
”
Her breath cau
ght in her throat for a moment—
the result of so much restraint built against emotion.
“
I
’
m…I
’
m the coward,
”
she whispered.
“
I
’
m the coward the widows called out tonight.
I
’
m the one who…who…
”
She raised her hand to wipe her tears, but Reb caught her hand in his.

“
Are ya cryin
’
for me, Sage?
”
he asked.
His voice was low—
something in the intonation of it hypnotically alluring.

“
The day Ivy came,
”
Sage began,
“I-
I thought you…I thought you sent her the telegram.
I thought…I thought you didn
’
t want me and only wanted
—”

“
Are these my tears, Sage?
”
he interrupted.
“
Are they for me?
”
Sage gasped and held her breath as he kissed her cheek.
She raised her hand again to wipe her tears, but he only caught it in his again, whispering,
“
These are
my
tears, Sage
,
and I
’
ll take care of them
my
way.
”

Sage felt her body
erupt into a nervous trembling—
a delightful wave of goose
bumps breaking over her as Reb kissed her cheek several more times in succession.
Moistening his lips
,
he moved to her other cheek, and she felt the soft, moist touch of his tongue on her skin as he kissed her, tasting her tears.

“
I
’
m…I
’
m sorry,
”
she whispered in his ear, breathless from his kisses.

He raised his head, looki
ng at her—
frowning.
“
What could you ever have to be sorry for?
”

Sage closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to keep from melting into a
sobbing puddle at his feet—
struggling for the courage to speak the words to him.

“
I
’
m…I
’
m sorry I couldn
’
t find the courage to tell you…
” As she spoke—as she stammered—
her emotions and residual fear causing her speech to be br
oken—
she reached out to touch him.
Somehow sh
e hoped if she could touch him—
simply feel he was really standing before her, somehow she hoped she could tell him what her heart so desperately ne
eded to tell him. Tentatively—
for fear she was dreaming
and touching him would somehow awaken
her and cause him to disappear—
she let her fingertips travel over one of the fresh scars on his chest.
He inhaled deeply, his chest rising with the breath as she pressed her palm against his skin, feeling the scars on h
is body—
the scars inflicted there because he
’
d saved her life.