Behind His Blue Eyes (33 page)

“Oh, my poor baby.” Winnie dabbed at her eyes with a tattered dish towel. “What kind of man would do such a thing? And why?”

Ethan had a fleeting memory of Eunice, then quickly shoved it away. “There's no accounting for how some people think, Winnie. They're just not right in the head. It's like something is missing.”

“Praise the Lord you found her, Mistuh Ethan.”

It was late by the time he finished answering their questions and helped clean up the dishes. When the old couple went on to bed, he heated a pot of water and washed by the hearth, then pulled fresh clothes from the saddlebag Curtis had left by the couch. Not bothering with boots, he slowly climbed the stairs to Audra's room.

She lay curled in the middle of the bed, bathed in shadows and silver moonlight. He stood for a long time, looking at her, his chest tight with emotion.

What if he hadn't insisted on going back to Weems's camp? What if they had never found her and she'd suffered a slow, agonizing death chained in that cold, dark hole? How could he have gone on if he'd lost her?

More tears burned in his eyes, but he blinked them away.

It's over. She's alive.

He moved the chair by the window next to the bed, and with a deep sigh, settled in to watch over her while she slept.

* * *

Audra awoke to darkness and a hand holding her down. With a cry, she lashed out, twisting and kicking, until Ethan's voice broke through the terror.

“It's all right. I'm here. You're safe.”

She slumped back, her mind in tatters, her body shivering so hard her teeth chattered. “L-Light the lamp. It's too dark.”

Once the lamp was lit, she looked fearfully into all the corners, half-expecting Weems to come bounding out, that evil grin on his face.

But the only one there was Ethan—beloved Ethan, her savior and hero. How he would laugh if she called him that. Sitting up, she reached out for him, felt his good arm close around her in a tight embrace. “Don't leave me,” she whispered against his neck.

“I won't.”

Wrinkling her nose, she drew back. “What's that smell?”

“Probably the horse liniment.”

“It better work,” she muttered, moving into his embrace again.

For a long time, she lay cuddled against his chest, his heartbeat a soothing rhythm beneath her ear. But when weariness claimed her again, she lay back, yawning. “Stay with me,” she said, patting the bed beside her hip. “I don't want to be alone.”

She didn't have to ask twice. Without removing anything but the thick belt in his trousers, he stretched out on top of the covers, his injured arm on the outside, his good arm wrapped around her, holding her close. “How's this?”

She snuggled closer, and tried to ignore the smell of the liniment. “Perfect.”

He pressed his lips to her silky hair. “I love you, Audra.”

“I love you, too, Ethan.”

Safely anchored against his warmth, she finally drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Thirty-four

A
udra spent most of the next two days in bed, her body so sore she could scarcely roll over, much less go up and down the stairs. Despite Winnie's hard looks, Ethan stayed the nights with her, sleeping fully dressed except for boots and belt, on top of the covers, his good arm wrapped around her, ready to comfort her when the night terrors came.

And they came often.

Their scrapes and cuts improved rapidly. By the end of the third day, Ethan dispensed with the horse liniment and sling, but their bruises remained livid, fading from bluish-purple to greenish-yellow. Audra fretted endlessly over whether they would be gone by the wedding in just over two weeks.

Ethan didn't care. He was just grateful that she was safe, and anxious for the waiting to end so they could start their lives together without all the artificial barriers between them. In his heart and mind, they were already married.

One or other of the ladies came by every afternoon for the first three days, either to discuss the wedding plans, or to bring pastries for an afternoon cup of tea, or simply to sit and chat about nonsensical things. Between their visits and Winnie's fussing and her time spent with her father, her days seemed to pass fairly easily.

But the nights dragged.

Stretched out beside her, Ethan knew how restlessly she slept, and when she lay awake, staring at the lamp she insisted remain lit all night. He tried to coax her into talking about what had happened, hoping that might help her sleep better. But she wouldn't say much beyond what she had already told him—that Weems only came to her a few times, and all the other hours she either spent huddled in the cold dark, or working on the bolt in the wall once she had the candle.

“I thought I was going to die,” she tearfully told him after one especially fearful dream. “I even planned it, wanting to end it myself, rather than give Weems the satisfaction of killing me. But I couldn't.”

“Thank God,” he'd murmured, holding her close. “I don't know what I would have done without you.” He couldn't bear thinking of her waiting in that cold cell, dying a little more each minute he didn't come. What if he had believed Weems, and had never come back? That thought haunted him, sent him into gasping wakefulness at least once every night.

He didn't know what to do for her—or for him—or what he could say that would help them push these fears from their minds.

The third night after he brought her home, he awoke to find her standing at the window in her gown, her slim form backlit by the rising full moon. He wondered what was going through her mind. If it was another night terror, or if her ordeal had planted fears in her mind about their impending marriage.

He rose and moved up behind her. Sliding his arms around her, he bent down and kissed her neck. “What's wrong? More bad dreams?”

“It's the full moon. This was the night he was going to kill me.”

He felt a shudder run through her, and held her tighter. “But he didn't.”

“Thanks to you.” After a bit, she turned in his arms to face him. With the moonlight behind her, and the lamp burning low, he couldn't see her expression, but he knew she was crying.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help.”

She looked away. “No . . . it's too . . . I can't.”

“Audra.” When she still wouldn't look at him, he brought his hands up to cup her face, felt her tears on his fingers, and leaned in to kiss them away. “I love you. You can tell me anything. Just talk to me. Please.”

It was awhile before she spoke and when she did, the words were disjointed and hesitant, her eyes downcast rather than meeting his. “He made me unbutton my blouse and pull down my shift so he could look at me while he touched himself. It made me feel filthy. Like spiders were crawling across my skin.”

Ethan tried to keep his voice even. “It's his shame. Not yours.”

“I know, but . . .” She took a deep hitching breath and closed her eyes. “But that memory keeps circling in my mind. I can't make it go away.”

“When we marry, we'll make new memories. Good memories.”

“Will we?” Her eyes opened, finally met his. “What if this fear never leaves me? What if it comes between the two of us and I can't . . . can't . . .”

That was his fear, too. He remembered how responsive she had been during his almost-audition. Had this terrible experience robbed her of the unbridled joy and enthusiasm she'd shown when he'd touched her? Taking his hands from her face, he pushed back the hair from her brow and kissed the furrow between her eyes. “Give it time, sweetheart.”

“And if that doesn't help?”

“It will. I won't let Weems come between us. Trust me.”

“I do trust you, Ethan. But I don't want to wait. I need to know now if I can get past this. I want to make new memories tonight while the moon is full, so that in the years ahead, whenever I see it above me, I'll think of you and not him.”

How could he resist that? Or her? Or his own need for assurance? Sleeping beside her every night had tested his resolve to keep his hands to himself, and when she looked at him the way she did now, he could deny her nothing. Bending lower, he kissed her, and felt that simmering desire he always felt whenever he was around her boil over inside him. “You're sure?”

“I've been sure.” Her fingers fumbled with the three buttons on the placket of his collarless shirt. When he tried to help, she brushed his hands away. “No, let me.”

He forced himself to stand still, his body humming with anticipation, his heart beating so hard he wondered if she could hear it. After she loosened the last button, she pulled the shirt free of his trousers, then slid her hands underneath the fabric. “You're so warm.”

Not warm. Burning up, his skin prickling, his muscles quivering beneath her trailing fingers. “Maybe your hands are cold.”

“Or maybe you're ticklish.” She slid her hands around his waist to his back, slowly pushing up the fabric until her fingers brushed over the first long scar Eunice had given him. “What's this?”

“An old injury.”

Her fingers found the second scar below his shoulder. “From when the glass fell?”

“Yes.”

“I'm sorry. It must have hurt dreadfully.” She pushed the shirt up to his shoulders. “Lean down so I can pull it over your head.”

He did.

Mindful of the thick bandage over the cuts that Doc had stitched, she carefully pulled the shirt down his arms, then tossed it onto the seat of a straight chair near the window. She studied him in the slant of moonlight coming through the window, her face softened by the faint glow of the lamp on the other side of the room. “You're so beautiful. All rounded muscle and coiled strength. Like the perfect gift I always wanted, but never realized how badly I needed until you came into my life.”

As happened so often when he was with Audra, glib words deserted him and emotion took over. It was all he could do not to sweep her up in his arms and carry her to the bed. But he knew he had to go slow. Let her set the pace. Allow time for her fears to fade.

But he almost forgot that noble intent when her hand slid up his chest to his neck.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, rising on tiptoe.

He did, gently at first, then with more feeling when his control began to fray. He needed this woman in ways he had never imagined, and with a depth he had never known was within him. Cradling her head in his trembling hands, he put into that kiss all the love he felt for this kind, fearless, confounding woman . . . and hoped it would be enough.

When he felt her start to draw back, he instantly took his hands away. “I'm sorry. Did I—”

Her soft laughter cut him off. “I ran out of air.”

He drew in a relieved breath. “I don't want to rush you.”

“You're not. But you can take off your own trousers. I am a lady, after all.”

“You're sure?”

“That I'm a lady? Of course.”

Despite the quip, he heard the tension in her voice, and knew she was struggling.

“Do stop giving me chances to back out, Ethan. Of course I'm nervous. And a little afraid. And worried that that horrid feeling when Weems made me expose myself will come back. Then I remind myself it's you, not him, and you love me as much as I love you. So . . .” With a deep breath, she loosened the bows on her long nightgown, and slipped it off her shoulders. It floated to the floor in a whisper of fabric.

And there she was. Bathed in moonlight and bared to him as she had never been, her body even more beautiful than he had imagined. Her breasts were high and round as he remembered them. Her waist was so small he could span it with his hands. Her legs were long and firm.

And shaking.

“Look at me,” he said when she turned her face away.

Reluctantly, she did, her eyes wide and reflecting the yellowish glow of the lamp. That small furrow between her brows told him she was worried.

“It's me, sweetheart. The man who loves you so much it's like a fire inside him. The one who will never hurt you, and who will always protect you and keep you safe. Tell me you believe that.”

She smiled, even though tears rolled down her cheeks. “I do.”

He opened his arms. “Then come here.”

Knowing there would be only one first joining, and even if it wasn't perfect, it would matter more than all the next times they came together, he went slow, calming her with gentle touches and whispered praise. She was as fragile as a bird in his arms, her heart drumming like frantic wing-beats beneath her breast. He didn't know if it was from fear or desire, but she didn't retreat or tell him to stop.

After laying her out on the bed, he kissed her for a long time, learning again the taste and texture of her lips, and skin, and flower-scented hair. He kissed her breasts, nibbled her neck, traced the shape of her ear with his tongue, all the while keeping his hands gentle as he learned what she liked and where she wanted him to touch her.

When she began to shift restlessly, and grew more insistent when she pulled him down for a kiss, he allowed himself to become bolder. Slowly running his hand down her belly, he found her warmth, and stroked her there until her breathing grew rapid and her movements became more frantic.

“Now, Ethan,” she whispered against his lips. “I want you now.”

Rising up on his good arm, he looked down at her. “Open your eyes.”

She did.

“Think only of me.” He positioned himself over her, kissed her again, and said, “Remember how much I love you. That I'm yours until the day I die. And there's nothing I would ever do to hurt you.”

“I know.”

He pushed inside, heard her gasp, but kept moving. She bit his shoulder. But soon she was rising to meet him stroke for stroke, her legs tight around him, her head thrown back. Then she stiffened and cried out his name, and the world exploded in such heart-stuttering splendor he didn't know where he ended and she began.

It was the best it had ever been.

Collapsing beside her, he pulled her tight against him, his chest pumping as he struggled to catch his breath. “God,” he finally choked out. “You're amazing. Perfect. I had no idea . . .”

She pinched him. “You lied.”

Startled, he lifted his head to look down at her, and was relieved to see her smile.

“You said you would never hurt me. And that hurt.”

“It did?”

“At first.”

“And later?”

Her smile widened into that saucy grin. “And later, it didn't.”

Chuckling, he let his head fall back to the pillow. “You're a liar, too. You said you weren't a virgin.”

“I said
maybe
I wasn't a virgin. I was only trying to ease your worries about the audition.”

“Did I pass?”

“Oh, you're definitely the man for the task. As I knew you would be all along.”

He grinned, relieved. And proud. “No regrets?”

“And no fears. Weems is gone. There's only you, now and forever.” She trailed a fingertip up to the hollow at the base of his throat. “I'm game for anything now.”

“Oh?” Laughing, he pulled her on top of him. “Then how about this?”