White Nights by Susan Edwards Page B

would she have done had her son been injured or worse, killed? A stab of pain went through her heart. She couldn’t bear to think of what might have happened. James tightened his hold and for a long moment, they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms. Then he put her from him, keeping hold of her shoulders, his fingers firm but not hurtful.
    “Look at me, Eirica.”
    Slowly, she lifted her gaze to his, saw the sadness he couldn’t hide.
    “I don’t want your gratitude. I want your friendship, your trust.” He threw his head back as if in pain. “Hell, I want more than that and you know it, even if you won’t admit it.” His fingers slid up the sides of her neck until they tenderly cradled her jaw. His hands were large, his fingers spread from her chin to her temple. He tipped his head down and searched her face with eyes that mirrored his soul, revealing all that he felt.
    Seeing the naked love exposed in his darkened eyes, Eirica opened her mouth to deny what he felt toward her, then shut it. What could she say? For to respond verbally to the anguish etched in lines on each side of his mouth, in the tautness of his jaw and staring at her from his sad, haunted gaze, meant opening the door to feelings he’d only hinted at but not put into words—words she didn’t want spoken aloud. The very thought of him loving her frightened her. She shook her head slightly, denying what she knew to be true.
    “Yes,” James whispered, using his thumbs to caress the lines of her jaw. “But I won’t say the words, not yet, not until you’re ready to hear them.”
    Eirica’s heart raced with excitement and fear. He couldn’t—she wouldn’t—“James—”
    With a groan, he closed the space between them and lowered his head to brush a tender kiss over her lips, the contact no more than a feather-soft caress, yet time seemed to come to a halt. Her lips parted, his lingered. Their breath mingled. Then he stepped back, released her and jammed his hands into his pockets.
    Wide-eyed, she stared at him, forgetting all the reasons why she had to deny herself a second chance at love. Was it so wrong to want what she’d dreamed of as a young girl? To have a love as strong and lasting as the Svenssons’? To have a home filled with love and laughter? And family?
    James drew in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he fought for his own control. Agitated, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Don’t ask me to apologize for that. If Ian had fallen beneath those wheels, you’d have buried your son today.”
    Reminded of what her own foolish actions had nearly caused brought Eirica back to reality—and her senses. A sob rose and stuck in the back of her throat. “You don’t need to remind me how close I came to losing him, James.” She turned her back to him.
    James gently spun her to face him. “There’s no room out here for misplaced pride, sweetheart. Your family’s survival depends on you knowing and accepting your limitations. When you need help, dammit, ask for it. Don’t sacrifice your health, or the safety of your children, for pride’s sake.” He fell silent, his gaze holding hers.
    Eirica tried to speak but was so overcome that she could only stare at him, her face hot with humiliation, shame—and the emotions kindled by his kiss. Deep inside, a curl of hope swirled in a buried recess of her heart. She locked it away to take out and examine later, when she was alone. Right now, the enormity of what had nearly happened left her paralyzed.
    What would she have done had James not been there? In her condition, she’d never have reached Ian in time to prevent a tragedy. Staring at the distant eastern horizon, she thought of the many graves of children she’d duly recorded in her daily journal entries. So many lives lost so young. It made her ill just to think how easily Ian could have become another woman’s journal entry.
    James mistook her silence as refusal and, as if afraid of saying or doing more than he