Out of Exile (11 page)

She sat up and looked him in the eyes. “Probably for the same reasons you didn't tell me about your father. There are some things too painful to share at the time you are living them. That first summer that Aunt Clara brought me here, I was so afraid that I'd somehow do something to mess things up, I wasn't about to say anything to anyone about my past.”

It amazed him, how much he'd thought they had shared with each other on those summer days so long ago, and yet in reality how little they had shared. The integral parts of themselves, the essence of experiences that had made them the people they were they had jealously guarded, afraid to share.

“She has to be all right, Matthew,” she said softly.

He squeezed her shoulder. “She will be. She's tough.”

“I hope you're right. I need to get back inside,” she said, although she didn't move from his side.

“I think I'll just sit out here for a little bit longer,” he said. He wanted to digest what she'd told him about herself.

She pushed away from him and stood. “I'll see you inside?”

He nodded, then watched her as she walked back
to the building and disappeared into the hospital doors. She positively amazed him. Now that he knew her background and the pain she had endured, her ability to love and her cheerful optimism awed him.

She seemed to carry no scars from her experience and he envied her that. But that didn't change the fact that the scars he carried were too deep to be healed, too toxic to be ignored.

He could love Lilly, if he allowed himself. But he'd promised himself a long time ago that he'd never, ever love a woman. And one thing Matthew never did…he never broke his promises.

 

It was just after ten when Lilly parked in front of the house. Matthew had left the hospital two hours earlier, when the doctor had told them that the surgery had gone fine and there had been no complications.

Lilly had stayed, and when Clara had been brought back into her room, she had sat next to her bedside, content to simply watch the old woman sleep peacefully.

The nurse had finally chased her out of the room, telling her to go home, get some sleep and come back in the morning. Realizing she was tired, Lilly had finally heeded the nurse's advice.

The front door was unlocked and she found Matthew sitting in the family room, a glass of brandy in his hand. “Ah, that looks wonderful,” she said, and sank down in one of the wing chairs.

He stood and went over to the bar and poured her
a glass of the dark-amber liquid. “Here you are,” he said.

“Thank you.” She took a sip, then leaned her head back and swallowed.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.” She opened her eyes and took another sip. “The nurse finally kicked me out of Aunt Clara's room and told me to come home.”

“Smart nurse,” he observed as he sat on the edge of the sofa. “You look tired.”

“It's been an incredibly long day.” She kicked off her sandals and buried her toes in the thick carpeting, then took another sip of the smooth brandy. “Everything okay here?”

“Fine. Several of the workers have come by for news about Clara.”

“That's nice. She's a special woman, Matthew. If you just give her a chance, she'll enrich your life.”

He nodded, his features inscrutable. He finished his brandy, then carried the empty glass to the bar sink. “Did anyone say when Clara will be released from the hospital?”

“Day after tomorrow,” Lilly replied. She took the last sip of her drink, then stood and carried her glass to the sink. “It's amazing, isn't it,” she said as he took the glass from her. “That they did heart surgery today and she'll be released so quickly.”

“Amazing,” he agreed. His gaze lingered on her for a long moment. “Well, I guess I'll head to bed.”

“Me, too,” Lilly said, her pulse racing slightly. There had been something in his eyes when he'd looked at her that had shot adrenaline through her.

Matthew turned out the light in the family room and together they left and paused at the foot of the stairs where they would part ways to go to their separate bedrooms. A pale light drifted out of his bedroom providing just enough illumination for her to see his features.

“Matthew, thank you for being there for me today,” she said. “I always feared that something would happen to Aunt Clara and I'd have to face it all alone. It was nice to have you and your family there with me.”

“I'm glad I could be there for you.” He reached out and touched a strand of her hair. Hunger. That's what she saw radiating from his eyes. A hunger for her.

Her throat went dry and her heartbeat accelerated. How she wanted to be held in his arms again. How she wanted to feel his touch burning her, setting her on fire. “Matthew?” His name whispered out of her.

“I want you, Lilly,” he said, eyes blazing. “I want you in my bed, in my arms.”

“I want that, too.”

He pulled her to him and captured her lips with his, his hands tangling in her hair as his body pressed tightly against hers.

Lilly welcomed him, opening her mouth to him, arching against him in overwhelming need. He tasted of brandy and simmering passion, and she wanted to lose herself in him.

He broke the kiss only long enough to scoop her up in his arms, then he carried her into the bedroom and gently laid her on his bed.

As he undressed, she did the same, kicking off her shorts and taking off her blouse. There was no sense of shyness, no hesitancy inside her. Never had she felt so right about making love to a man.

When they were both naked, he rejoined her on the bed. He placed his hands on either side of her face and for a long moment gazed at her, his eyes filled with both a hunger and a sweet gentleness that stole her breath away.

“We're quite a pair, you and I,” he said, his voice deeper, huskier than usual. “You've spent much of your life without a family and feeling all alone. I've spent much of my life with a family and feeling all alone.” He kissed her lips softly, tenderly. “But at least for tonight, neither of us has to feel alone.”

His words sought out and found a cold place she hadn't realized existed in her heart and warmed it with evocative heat.

Yes, she had spent most of her life feeling alone, but at the moment, with Matthew's arms wrapped tightly around her, the innate loneliness disappeared.

Then there was no time for further thought as he kissed her again and stroked down the length of her body with his slightly callused hands. His kiss was explosive, yet retained an underlying tenderness that wove its way straight to her heart.

The love she felt for Matthew, a love she'd fought against and tried to ignore, now expanded and rippled through her entire body and soul.

His touch was different this time from the first time they had made love. Gone was the frantic first-
time frenzy, replaced by what seemed to be a languid savoring of her skin.

She moaned as his hands found her breasts, his thumbs raking over the turgid nipples and shooting sensation throughout her body.

“Oh, Lilly,” he murmured softly. “You have made me half-insane over the past couple of days. All I've been able to think about is kissing you…making love to you.”

“And I've wanted you,” she replied breathlessly.

“The most difficult thing I've ever done in my life was take you back to your bedroom after you'd come in to thank me for that rose.” He leaned his head down and captured the tip of one of her breasts in his mouth.

Any reply Lilly had been about to make was lost, just as she was lost to his touch, to his kiss, to him.

She splayed her fingers over the expanse of his broad back, enjoying the feel of his smooth skin and the play of muscles beneath. As his mouth moved from one breast to the other, she tangled her fingers in his thick hair, another moan escaping from her.

His touch ignited every nerve ending in her body, and it didn't take long for her to be enflamed with need. Still he took his time, languidly stroking her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, teasingly avoiding the place where she needed him most.

She didn't remain an uninvolved participant. She ran her hands across his chest, down his flat abdomen, then on to his muscled thighs, enjoying his quick catch of breath and the fire in his eyes as she teased him in return.

It didn't take long before the mutual teasing reached fever pitch and Lilly felt that if he didn't take complete possession of her immediately, she might die.

Apparently he was at the same place, for with a groan he rolled between her parted legs and entered her. As he moved his hips against hers, she cried out and shuddered as a climax swept through her.

He waited a moment, allowing her to catch her breath, then began to move again, beckoning her back up…up…to heights of pleasure she didn't even know existed.

As passion swallowed her whole, she had one final thought. How on earth was she going to walk away from this man? And yet she knew that's exactly what she had to do.

 

No!

He stood outside the bedroom window, the lamp on the nightstand illuminating the couple on the bed. He wanted to run away from the sight, and yet his feet walked him closer to the window. He wanted to close his eyes and banish the image of the two making love, and yet his eyes refused to look away.

Tremors shook his body…tremors of rage. How dare he? How dare he touch her so intimately. By all rights Matthew Delaney should be dead. Matthew should never have left that creek, should have fallen into the water, his blood spilling out of him from a rifle shot.

The watcher at the window balled his hands into fists. He should have taken the time to get off one
final shot. Perhaps it would have been the one that hit his target. But he'd been aware that the sound of the two blasts he'd fired might draw attention, and so he had taken off, angered by his lack of success.

He didn't blame Lilly for this betrayal, knew she was an innocent who had been taken advantage of by the smooth, handsome cowboy. What he was watching take place in the bedroom was nothing short of rape, and hatred for Matthew Delaney coursed through him.

He had to get Lilly away from here. He had to get her away from Matthew. Once he had her alone, he could make her understand that they belonged together. He could make her understand that she was his.

H
e felt as if he'd been starving for years and Lilly was a piece of life-sustaining bread. He felt as if he'd been thirsty for a lifetime and Lilly was a swallow of sweet, clean water.

Matthew knew in his heart that making love to her again was a mistake, but as he took possession of her, felt her surrounding him in heat, saw the glazed passion in her eyes, he also knew he couldn't not make love to her one last time.

After tonight he would stay away from her. After tonight he would never kiss her, never hold her, never make love to her again. But he had to have her tonight.

All afternoon he'd thought about what she'd shared with him, the pieces of her childhood that he hadn't known before. And for the first time in years
he'd ached with somebody else's pain…he'd hurt with
her
pain.

He'd thought of the little girl she had been, sitting on a porch, waiting for her parents to return for her. He imagined her pain when the night had passed and they hadn't come back. He'd ached with the need to wrap her up in his arms and never let her go. He'd yearned to sweep away her past and rewrite it with happiness and love.

Once again he'd been awed by the fact that not only had she survived but she'd thrived, despite her past. And as he'd waited for her to return home from the hospital, a crazy need to hold her in his arms had filled him. The need had grown to fever pitch by the time she'd walked through the door.

She now moaned his name and he increased his rhythm, moving in and out of her warmth with the ancient tempo of lovers. Each and every movement shot overwhelming sensation through him.

He wanted this moment to last forever, yet felt himself building to fever pitch far too quickly. He slowed his pace in an effort to cool his fervor.

Each sweet little gasp, every precious deep moan she released, further stoked the flames of his desire. Her fingers raked across his back with each thrust he made and once again he increased his pace, unable to ignore the pounding pleasure of loving her.

He took possession of her mouth once again, their tongues battling in passionate warfare. He vaguely wondered if he would ever get the taste of her out of his mouth, the scent of her out of his nose, the memory of her out of his brain.

Faster and faster he moved with her, swept into a maelstrom of emotion so intense he could no longer think. He could only feel.

He felt his release building…building…and he cried out her name as he reached it, vaguely aware of her crying out, too.

Afterward he rolled to the side of her, both of them not speaking but rather waiting for their breathing to resume a more normal rate.

When his breathing was more regular, he propped himself up on an elbow and looked at her. She'd never looked as beautiful, with her hair tousled by his hands and her lips slightly swollen by his kisses.

He reached out a hand and trailed a finger down the side of her face. She reached up and grabbed his hand and brought it to her lips. She kissed the palm, then folded his fingers as if to capture the kiss.

“That's the way I give Aunt Clara kisses,” she said, then frowned. “Matthew, she worried about you all when you were young. She was afraid for you all. She called Social Services several times on your father, but the reports came back that nothing was wrong, that you kids were all fine. And I got the impression from her that she would have visited more often, but your father bullied her.”

Matthew sighed, not surprised by her words. He reached out and stroked a strand of her shiny hair. “I don't blame her anymore,” he said thoughtfully. “Somehow seeing her in that hospital bed, hearing her tell me she was sorry, put it all into perspective for me. She was as helpless against my father as all of us were.”

“You know what I always think about when I'm thinking of my childhood?” she asked, her eyes shining bright.

“What?”

“That old saying about that which doesn't kill you makes you strong.”

He smiled at her. “Then you and I should be very strong.”

“I think we are,” she replied. “And there's nothing wrong with being strong as long as we don't fall into the trap of thinking we're so strong we don't need anyone else.”

“You're doing it again,” he said teasingly.

“What?”

“Counseling me.”

She laughed, then sat up.

“What are you doing?” He wasn't finished holding her yet, wanted to hold her through the night and wake up at dawn with her in his arms.

“Going to the bathroom,” she said. She started to get out of the bed, then suddenly rolled back against him. “Matthew, there's somebody outside the window,” she said softly, her voice emanating urgency.

Matthew tensed, adrenaline rushing through him. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, her eyes radiating fear. “Positive.”

Matthew reached over and grabbed the revolver from his nightstand, then got out of bed and grabbed his jeans. He moved with an enforced casualness. “I'll get us something to eat,” he said loudly as he pulled on his jeans.

“Get something sweet,” Lilly said, playing along.

Matthew nodded, and once he hit the doorway of the bedroom, he raced for the front door. The simmering anger that had always been a part of him burst into flame.

White-hot fury filled him as he exploded out the front door and raced around the house. The idea of somebody watching him and Lilly in their lovemaking, the idea that somebody had spied on them and seen her beautiful nakedness released a killing rage inside him.

Gun drawn, he turned the corner of the house and saw the window where Lilly had thought somebody had stood and peeked in on them. There was nobody there.

He eyed the general vicinity, making certain that nobody was hiding in the deep shadows of the house, then directed his gaze outward from the house, recognizing that there were all kinds of places to hide in the darkness of the night.

Moving closer to the window, his gun still ready, he saw where the brush had been tamped down by somebody standing there, and again rage soared through him.

It was an anger born in his childhood, bred in the events of the last couple of weeks and now sharpened by this latest violation. And in that anger was regret that he'd allowed himself to make love to Lilly once again.

He'd known better. It wasn't fair to her and it
wasn't fair to himself, to hold her, to kiss her, to love her with no intent to keep her in his life.

The realization of his own weakness where she was concerned merely served to stoke the fires of his fury higher. He checked around the perimeter of the house, then returned to the front door, where Lilly stood in the doorway now clad in a pale-pink robe.

“Did you find anyone?” she asked, fear visible in her eyes as he stepped inside and carefully locked the door behind him.

“No. Although the grass was crushed down just outside the window. Somebody was standing there recently.” He switched the trigger lock on the gun, his rage still a seething entity inside him.

She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “Somebody watched us while we were making love.”

“Well, whoever it was isn't watching anymore,” he said grimly. “You should go on up to bed. I'm going to stay up for a while and make sure everything is all right around here.”

He saw the disappointment that briefly swept over her features and knew she'd been anticipating a night spent in his bed, in his arms. “What's going on, Matthew? The rose…the gunshots and now this.” She shivered once again.

He steeled himself against his own disappointment and instead embraced the anger that raged inside him. “I don't know. I wish to hell I did, but I don't. The best thing you can do right now is go to
your room and lock the door. I don't need any distractions at the moment.”

His words and tone of voice were meant to inflict pain, and they hit the mark. He saw on her features the result of the hurtful words, and regret surged up inside him, momentarily usurping the anger.

“Okay.” She belted her robe more tightly around her. “Then I'll just say good-night.”

He watched as she went up the stairs, fighting the impulse to call her back, take her in his arms and apologize for his words. But he couldn't.

He recognized now that there was a magic between them that couldn't be denied. It had been there between them years ago when they'd been inexperienced teenagers, and it was still between them.

In another lifetime, in another destiny, they would have belonged together. But in this lifetime it was simply impossible.

 

It was family meeting night. Clara had been home from the hospital for two days, the Halloween party was to take place the next evening, and Matthew had never been as cold and as distant as he had been toward Lilly in the past three days since they had made love.

Not only had he been distant and cold, the anger that seemed to have simmered all along was now out in the open and exposed. He snapped at her and the workers, growled at his brothers and in-laws, and kept himself completely isolated from everyone.

The result of his bad mood stirred a surprising
anger in Lilly. How dare he blow so hot and cold, one minute being a gentle, passionate lover, then transforming into a miserable, angry bastard.

She didn't understand him, didn't understand the rage that seemed to be so much a part of him. But it frightened her. Oh, she wasn't afraid of him, rather she was afraid for him.

She knew now that he had an enormous capacity to love, that someplace deep inside him was a well of sweet tenderness, of caring and compassion. She couldn't love him if that wasn't so. But that capacity for loving was being smothered beneath the weight of his inexplicable rage.

“You're awfully quiet this evening,” Clara said, breaking into Lilly's thoughts.

The two women were seated on her porch, waiting for the time when they would go to the main house for the family meeting.

“Just thinking,” Lilly returned.

“About anything important?”

Lilly grinned at her aunt. “Don't you know that all my thoughts are important?” she teased, then sobered. “Actually, I've been thinking that maybe it's time I get back to Dallas. It's possible if I return fairly soon I can get a position in one of the schools for the remainder of the school year.”

“You miss work?” Clara asked.

Lilly thought about it. The pain of losing Danny still pierced her heart, but she now had the distance to recognize she'd done everything in her power to help him.

There was nothing more she could have done. She
realized that some people were beyond help, their inner pain too intense. She suspected that Matthew was one of those people.

“Yes, I miss work,” she finally replied, even though she was aware that it was a tiny white lie. What she missed was having something to think about, something to concentrate on other than Matthew Delaney.

“You know I'll hate to see you go,” Clara said softly. She smiled at Lilly, the gentle, loving smile of a mother. “I still remember that first time I met you.” Clara clucked her tongue against her teeth. “What a mess you were, so skinny and dirty, but I could see the beauty of your soul shining in those blue eyes of yours.”

Lilly smiled and shook her head. “I still feel guilty about trying to steal your purse.”

Clara waved her plump hands dismissively. “No need to feel guilty. You were a child trying to survive.” Her gaze was warm as it lingered on Lilly. “I know you think I did something wonderful for you, taking you into my home and into my heart. But, Lilly, you did something wonderful for me. You filled all the empty spaces in my life, and not a day goes by that I don't thank the good Lord for bringing us together.”

For a moment Lilly couldn't speak. Love and thankfulness filled her to capacity. “I give thanks every day, too,” she finally managed to say.

Clara nodded. “Yes, I'll hate to see you go back to Dallas, but, I know it's selfish for me to want to keep you here with me.”

Lilly reached for her hand and smiled. “There isn't a selfish bone in your body, but I do have to get back sooner or later.” Lilly released her hand and continued, “Besides, it won't be too long before it's Christmastime and I'll be back here to visit.”

“Christmas this year is going to be just lovely,” Aunt Clara exclaimed, her face lit with anticipation. “We'll all be together, all of the Delaney children and their children. It's going to be just wonderful.”

“Yes, it will be,” Lilly replied. She only hoped that by Christmas her love for Matthew would have waned, become only a distant echo of memory that no longer hurt.

“And I don't want you going back to Dallas and worrying about me,” Aunt Clara said. “You heard what Dr. Howerton told me. I'm fit as a fiddle and all I have to do is watch my diet, take those little pills for my cholesterol and I should be just fine.”

“And that's a relief,” Lilly said. She looked at her wristwatch. “We'd better head over to the house. Everyone should be arriving within the next fifteen minutes or so.”

“Yes, and I want to put on the coffee and make some iced tea for everyone,” Aunt Clara replied.

Together the two women left Clara's cottage and headed for the main house where they encountered Matthew in the foyer.

“Matthew, dear, I'm going to make some coffee and iced tea for the meeting tonight,” Aunt Clara said. “Is there anything else you'd like me to do?”

“I don't know why you're going to all that trouble, it will just encourage them all to stay later than
usual.” He scowled. “I'll be in the office until everyone gets here.” He turned and disappeared down the hallway into the office.

“Sometimes I think that boy needs a good spanking,” Aunt Clara muttered under her breath. “I'll be in the kitchen,” she said, and headed in that direction.

Lilly stood in the foyer, anger swelling inside her, an anger that had been building for the past three days. Without giving herself time to think or to change her mind, she stalked down the hallway and entered the office where Matthew sat behind a large oak desk.