you so badly. Maybe it’s what hell really is. I want you and you’re physically afraid of me. Ironic, isn’t it? Do you have any idea, any idea at all, how it makes a man feel to know that he’s impotent?”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“All these long years,” he said, brushing the unruly hair back from his broad forehead. His eyes closed. “It makes me sick when women touch me, fawn over me. I don’t feel anything, Barrie. It seemed to be like that with you. That’s why I pulled you against me that way, I wanted to show you what you’d done to me.” He laughed with bitter irony. “And I got the lesson, didn’t I? It was the most violent, raging arousal I’ve ever had in my life—with the one woman who shudders at my touch.” His eyes closed.
She clenched her teeth as she studied him. She’d loved him all her life, it sometimes seemed. And then in one short night, he’d destroyed her love, her future, her femininity. If his life was hopeless, so was hers.
He glanced at her. “It’s been that bad for you, too, hasn’t it?” he asked suddenly, with narrowed eyes that seemed to see right through her. “All those damn men parading through your life in a constant, steady stream, in threes and fours. And you’ve never let one of them touch you, not even in the most innocent way.”
She shivered. It was too much. It was too much, having him know that about her. He might as well have stripped her soul naked.
She started to jump up, but he caught her wrist with surprising strength for a man in his condition and jerked her firmly right back down into the chair again.
“No,” he said, glaring at her. “No, you don’t. You aren’t running this time. I said, you’ve never let anyone touch you, in any way, even to kiss you, since me. Go ahead. Tell me I’m lying.”
She swallowed. Her face gave him the answer.
His lips parted. He exhaled softly. “Damn me, Barrie,” he said huskily. “Damn me for that.”
He let go of her wrist and lay back on the bed. “For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do,” he confessed dully.
He sounded defeated. Dawson, of all people. She hated that uncertainty in his deep voice. She hated what they’d done to each other. He was her whole world.
She reached out, very slowly. Her cold fingers just barely touched his bare arm, just at the elbow.
As if he couldn’t believe what his senses were telling him, he turned his head and looked at her pale hand on his arm. His eyes lifted to hers, curious, intent.
She bit her lip again. “I don’t want you to die,” she said unsteadily.
He looked at her fingers, curled hesitantly around his arm. “Barrie…”
Before he could get the words out, the door opened and the pretty nurse was back again, smiling, cheerful, full of optimism and already possessive about her handsome patient.
“Supper,” she announced, putting a tray on the table. “Soup and tea, and I’m going to feed you myself!”
“Like hell you are,” Dawson said curtly.
The nurse started. His eyes weren’t welcoming at all. They had a very cobralike quality, flashing warnings at her. She laughed with a sudden loss of confidence and pushed the high, wheeled tray over to the bed. “Well, of course, if you feel like feeding yourself, you can.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll be back to pick it up in a few minutes. Try to eat it all, now.”
She smiled again, but with less enthusiasm, and went out the door much more quickly than she’d come in.
Dawson took a pained breath. His head turned toward Barrie. “Help me,” he said quietly.
It was intimate, helping him eat. She watched every mouthful disappear past those thin, firm lips, and without wanting to, she remembered the feel of them on her mouth in passion. She’d been innocent and very frightened. He hadn’t realized that. His kisses had been adult, passionate, giving no quarter. She knew that he’d never even suspected that she was a total innocent
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“All these long years,” he said, brushing the unruly hair back from his broad forehead. His eyes closed. “It makes me sick when women touch me, fawn over me. I don’t feel anything, Barrie. It seemed to be like that with you. That’s why I pulled you against me that way, I wanted to show you what you’d done to me.” He laughed with bitter irony. “And I got the lesson, didn’t I? It was the most violent, raging arousal I’ve ever had in my life—with the one woman who shudders at my touch.” His eyes closed.
She clenched her teeth as she studied him. She’d loved him all her life, it sometimes seemed. And then in one short night, he’d destroyed her love, her future, her femininity. If his life was hopeless, so was hers.
He glanced at her. “It’s been that bad for you, too, hasn’t it?” he asked suddenly, with narrowed eyes that seemed to see right through her. “All those damn men parading through your life in a constant, steady stream, in threes and fours. And you’ve never let one of them touch you, not even in the most innocent way.”
She shivered. It was too much. It was too much, having him know that about her. He might as well have stripped her soul naked.
She started to jump up, but he caught her wrist with surprising strength for a man in his condition and jerked her firmly right back down into the chair again.
“No,” he said, glaring at her. “No, you don’t. You aren’t running this time. I said, you’ve never let anyone touch you, in any way, even to kiss you, since me. Go ahead. Tell me I’m lying.”
She swallowed. Her face gave him the answer.
His lips parted. He exhaled softly. “Damn me, Barrie,” he said huskily. “Damn me for that.”
He let go of her wrist and lay back on the bed. “For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do,” he confessed dully.
He sounded defeated. Dawson, of all people. She hated that uncertainty in his deep voice. She hated what they’d done to each other. He was her whole world.
She reached out, very slowly. Her cold fingers just barely touched his bare arm, just at the elbow.
As if he couldn’t believe what his senses were telling him, he turned his head and looked at her pale hand on his arm. His eyes lifted to hers, curious, intent.
She bit her lip again. “I don’t want you to die,” she said unsteadily.
He looked at her fingers, curled hesitantly around his arm. “Barrie…”
Before he could get the words out, the door opened and the pretty nurse was back again, smiling, cheerful, full of optimism and already possessive about her handsome patient.
“Supper,” she announced, putting a tray on the table. “Soup and tea, and I’m going to feed you myself!”
“Like hell you are,” Dawson said curtly.
The nurse started. His eyes weren’t welcoming at all. They had a very cobralike quality, flashing warnings at her. She laughed with a sudden loss of confidence and pushed the high, wheeled tray over to the bed. “Well, of course, if you feel like feeding yourself, you can.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll be back to pick it up in a few minutes. Try to eat it all, now.”
She smiled again, but with less enthusiasm, and went out the door much more quickly than she’d come in.
Dawson took a pained breath. His head turned toward Barrie. “Help me,” he said quietly.
It was intimate, helping him eat. She watched every mouthful disappear past those thin, firm lips, and without wanting to, she remembered the feel of them on her mouth in passion. She’d been innocent and very frightened. He hadn’t realized that. His kisses had been adult, passionate, giving no quarter. She knew that he’d never even suspected that she was a total innocent
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