if he ever found out what she’d done . . . what she’d been
forced
to do, he would change. He’d be as disgusted with her as she was with herself.
5
5
S usannah woke, disoriented. She reached out to touch Corey, then remembered what had happened the night before. She pressed her thumb and forefinger to her eyelids and allowed herself a brief moment of misery as she recalled the nightmares that had brought Nathan to her bed. The ones about Harlan she understood; the ones about Sonny she did not. Then again, she never tried to, for they were always vulgar and nauseating, and to examine them would undoubtedly make her as ill as in her dreams.
She felt a flush of anxiety as she slid from the bed and pulled on her wrapper. She was always so much more vulnerable at night, when it was dark. Her fears escalated, and new ones formed, preventing her from sleeping at all. All the ills of the world landed at her feet and nipped at her toes when she was sleepless in the dark.
She stepped into the main room, her gaze going to the door of her bedroom. It was still closed. Their guests were not yet up. Turning toward the fireplace, she saw Corey, tiny and sweet, still asleep in Nathan’s bedroll.
A mixture of emotions swelled within her. To her surprise, the strongest wasn’t envy. It was pain. Pain that one day soon, no doubt very soon, Nathan Wolfe would be gone, and Corey would again be without someone to look up to.
But for herself, she wanted him gone. Perhaps not for the same reasons as she’d had before, because she no longer thought of him as someone who’d come to spy on her. She’d decided if he’d been sent by the Walkers, he’d have done something about it by now. She was anxious for him to leave for other reasons altogether. She was beginning to like him, and that feeling was far more threatening. No one could know her secret, and the longer he stayed, the more tempting it was to unburden herself and share it with him.
She thought about her most recent nightmare, and Nathan’s raspy, soothing voice and his affectionate touch as he’d awakened her. She would always remember that. Always. She would capture the memory and hold it against her heart forever.
But the other . . . His attempt to kiss her had been so tempting. She was curious to know what it would be like to be kissed that way. But memories were still too fresh . . . too awful. She rubbed her hand across her lips, as if doing so would dislodge the vile memory of Harlan’s lips on hers, his tongue jutting into her mouth.
She looked toward the door just as Nathan came in from outside, carrying a pail of water. They stood without speaking, studying one another. A flood of emotions overwhelmed her; they were all pleasant, and she fought them.
Something deep inside her began to ache and she clenched her fists to her chest, willing it away, willing herself to feel nothing. Years ago she’d learned it was safer by far to feel nothing at all. And now she was confused by her feelings, for over these last few days Nathan had prompted her to feel something other than disgust for herself. It should have made her feel good; it frightened her, instead.
He crossed to the stove and filled the coffeepot with fresh water.
Susannah hurried to him and tried to push him aside. “I can do that.”
He held onto the pot. “So can I, Susannah.”
Annoyed, she mumbled, “Just because they think we’re married doesn’t mean you have to continue the pretense when they aren’t around.”
He released the pot but didn’t retreat.
Confusion tumbled over her. “I’m sorry. It’s just that—”
“You don’t have to apologize, Susannah. I understand.”
He still stood beside her, his size and his warmth disquieting. She was suffocating with feelings of pleasure, and her eyes stung with tears of frustration. “Do you always have to be so damned understanding?”
He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that oozed over her like warm honey. “I can’t seem to please
forced
to do, he would change. He’d be as disgusted with her as she was with herself.
5
5
S usannah woke, disoriented. She reached out to touch Corey, then remembered what had happened the night before. She pressed her thumb and forefinger to her eyelids and allowed herself a brief moment of misery as she recalled the nightmares that had brought Nathan to her bed. The ones about Harlan she understood; the ones about Sonny she did not. Then again, she never tried to, for they were always vulgar and nauseating, and to examine them would undoubtedly make her as ill as in her dreams.
She felt a flush of anxiety as she slid from the bed and pulled on her wrapper. She was always so much more vulnerable at night, when it was dark. Her fears escalated, and new ones formed, preventing her from sleeping at all. All the ills of the world landed at her feet and nipped at her toes when she was sleepless in the dark.
She stepped into the main room, her gaze going to the door of her bedroom. It was still closed. Their guests were not yet up. Turning toward the fireplace, she saw Corey, tiny and sweet, still asleep in Nathan’s bedroll.
A mixture of emotions swelled within her. To her surprise, the strongest wasn’t envy. It was pain. Pain that one day soon, no doubt very soon, Nathan Wolfe would be gone, and Corey would again be without someone to look up to.
But for herself, she wanted him gone. Perhaps not for the same reasons as she’d had before, because she no longer thought of him as someone who’d come to spy on her. She’d decided if he’d been sent by the Walkers, he’d have done something about it by now. She was anxious for him to leave for other reasons altogether. She was beginning to like him, and that feeling was far more threatening. No one could know her secret, and the longer he stayed, the more tempting it was to unburden herself and share it with him.
She thought about her most recent nightmare, and Nathan’s raspy, soothing voice and his affectionate touch as he’d awakened her. She would always remember that. Always. She would capture the memory and hold it against her heart forever.
But the other . . . His attempt to kiss her had been so tempting. She was curious to know what it would be like to be kissed that way. But memories were still too fresh . . . too awful. She rubbed her hand across her lips, as if doing so would dislodge the vile memory of Harlan’s lips on hers, his tongue jutting into her mouth.
She looked toward the door just as Nathan came in from outside, carrying a pail of water. They stood without speaking, studying one another. A flood of emotions overwhelmed her; they were all pleasant, and she fought them.
Something deep inside her began to ache and she clenched her fists to her chest, willing it away, willing herself to feel nothing. Years ago she’d learned it was safer by far to feel nothing at all. And now she was confused by her feelings, for over these last few days Nathan had prompted her to feel something other than disgust for herself. It should have made her feel good; it frightened her, instead.
He crossed to the stove and filled the coffeepot with fresh water.
Susannah hurried to him and tried to push him aside. “I can do that.”
He held onto the pot. “So can I, Susannah.”
Annoyed, she mumbled, “Just because they think we’re married doesn’t mean you have to continue the pretense when they aren’t around.”
He released the pot but didn’t retreat.
Confusion tumbled over her. “I’m sorry. It’s just that—”
“You don’t have to apologize, Susannah. I understand.”
He still stood beside her, his size and his warmth disquieting. She was suffocating with feelings of pleasure, and her eyes stung with tears of frustration. “Do you always have to be so damned understanding?”
He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that oozed over her like warm honey. “I can’t seem to please
Similar Books
