“I’ll wait here.”
Still Jim hesitated. “You’re certain about this, Clare?”
“Positive.” Her words were stiffer this time. She didn’t appreciate his concern, nor was she going to accept his censure. She was over thirty years old, and if she chose to bail someone out of jail that was her business.
Clare’s back was rigid as she sat in the waiting area, her hands folded in her lap. Jim returned a few minutes later and announced it would take a couple of moments longer, then sat down at his desk. He I glanced up at her once or twice as if seeing her for the first time.
Until she’d married Reed, she’d never done anything the town could consider the least bit improper in her life. Everything about her was predictable. Her entire life had followed a schedule with few deviations, a predetermined outline of events.
The one area she’d failed in had been marriage. She’d assumed, that by a certain age she’d have settled down with a good, upstanding man and produced the required 2 or 3 children, the same way her brothers had.
The door opened and an officer escorted Reed into the reception area. Clare’s gaze was instantly drawn to his. Before she could help herself, she gasped in dismay. His left eye was swollen and there was a deepening bruise along the side of his face. His nose looked as if it had taken the brunt of the attack. Although she didn’t know much about this sort of thing, she feared it might be broken. Dried blood was caked just below his bottom üp.
Reed didn’t say a word as the handcuffs were removed. He rubbed his wrists as if to restore the circulation to his hands. The officer said something to Reed, who nodded and moved toward Clare.
She remained silent until they were outside the sheriff’s office. Tears blurred her vision.
“What are you doing here?” Reed demanded.
“Me?” she cried. “I’m not the one who got myself tossed into the clinker for disturbing the peace.”
“Who told you?” He held himself rigid, his stare as cold as she’d ever seen it.
“Does it matter?” She hadn’t expected gratitude, not exactly, but it hadn’t occurred to her that he’d be so coldly furious with her.
“Did you post Kingston’s bail, too?”
Clare whirled around so fast she nearly toppled down the flight of stairs. “I’m not married to him. You’re the one who concerns me.”
Reed didn’t answer her. He marched down the steps and onto the sidewalk.
Clare raced after him. “Why’d you do it? You…promised me you wouldn’t. You said—”
“I promised you nothing.”
Clare’s entire life felt as if it had been nothing more than empty promises. Empty dreams. Reed walked away from her, but she refused to follow him.
“You shouldn’t be here any more than you should be married to me,” he told her, holding himself stiffly away from her. How unyielding he looked, unforgiving.
“You’re…right on both counts,” she cried, swallowing a sob. Tears streaked her face and forcefully she brushed them aside, even more furious that he would see her cry.
“I didn’t ask you to come down and bail me out. It would have been better if you—”
“I couldn’t leave you there.”
It was as though he didn’t hear a single word she said. He worked his jaw for a moment, then rubbed his hand along the side of his face to investigate the damage. Clare could see that nothing would get through the thick layer of pride he wore like a suit of armor, so she gave up. He wasn’t in any mood to listen to her, nor was he seeking her help. There was nothing left for her to do but go. He’d walk back to his truck and seek her out when he was ready…if he ever was.
Not once did she look back as she drove away. Not once did she allow herself to mentally review her marriage. In another couple of months their relationship would be over; until then she’d try to forget Reed Tonasket meant anything to her.
It sounded good. Reasonable even. But it didn’t work. She couldn’t stop thinking about Reed, couldn’t make herself forget his blackened eye and how swollen his nose was. He should never have fought Jack, she told herself. No matter what he said, he’d promised her he wouldn’t.
Technically he was right, he hadn’t said it with words. He’d promised with his eyes the afternoon they’d returned from Vegas as he’d carried her suitcase to the front door. Even then it hadn’t been easy for him to ignore Jack’s verbal attacks, but he had, and he’d done it for her.
Clare might have been able to settle her nerves if it wasn’t so blasted hot. Hoping to generate some cross ventilation, she opened both the front and the back door and then lounged on the sofa, waiting for the worst of the heat to pass.
It seemed impossible, but she must have fallen asleep. When Clare stirred some time later she was surprised to find the room dark. It was as though someone had lowered a black satin blanket over her.
Sitting up, she stared into the empty space, her heart heavy.
She hadn’t eaten, hadn’t changed out of her work clothes. The room was dark, but much cooler than it had been earlier. Silently she moved into the kitchen, her heart and thoughts burdened. She stood alone in the dark.
The night was rich with sound. June bugs chirped in the distance, the stars were out in brilliant display. Not knowing what drew her, Clare moved to the screen door and gazed into the raw stillness of the night.
Her eyes quickly adjusted to the lack of light. It was then that she saw him. Reed. He couldn’t have been standing more than ten feet away.
They stared at each other through the wire mesh. All the anger she’d experienced earlier, all the fear and the outrage vanished.
He stood there silent and still for several moments. Distance and the night prevented her from reading his features. In her mind it seemed that he was waiting for something, some sign, some word.
With her heart in her hand, Clare answered him.
She stepped forward and held open the screen door.
Chapter Nine
Reed didn’t understand what had brought him to Clare’s, nor did he question the powerful, unrelenting need he experienced for her. He walked toward her, his eyes holding hers. As the distance narrowed, he could see every breath she drew. His gaze was mesmerized by the small, even movements of her chest as it rose and fell.
His body was hard, tight, coiled with tension. For now this woman was his wife, and he was through denying himself what he yearned for most. He was through denying what Clare had asked to give him.
She stood in the moonlight waiting, silent, holding open the screen door for him. Words weren’t necessary. They would have distracted him from his purpose.
He paused in front of her; their gazes locked. They stood no more than a few inches apart, reading each other. Clare sighed and, whether she meant to or not, she swayed toward him. He caught her by the waist and gently drew her forward. She came with a soft sigh, and slipped her arms around his neck.
Their kiss brought him pain, but the small discomfort was far outweighed by the pleasure he received holding Clare. His face was sore, his eyes and mouth battered, but it would take far more than a few well-placed punches to keep him from his wife.
Lovingly, Clare raised her hands to his face, her fingertips lightly investigating the swelling around his eye. Her troubled gaze found his. “Why?” she whispered.
Reed shook his head. It wasn’t important now.
“I…need to know.”
Reed hesitated, then said, “He insulted you.”
Clare’s eyes drifted closed and when she looked to him again, he noted tears and a weary sadness. Her hands gently cupped his face as she raised her mouth to his, her lips tenderly moving over his, as though she were afraid of causing him even more pain.
“Clare.” His fingers covered hers as he diverted her from her gentle ministrations. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. It was why he’d come to her, he realized. To seek her pardon for his anger when she’d risked so much on his behalf.
“I am, too,” she w
hispered on a half sob. The question must have shown in him, because she elaborated. “For having doubted you…for being so angry.”
He kissed her again, and it was a cleansing, a pardon for them both. They were inside the darkened kitchen now, although Reed couldn’t recall moving from the back stairs. He knew with a certainty that they were going to make love, and in some deep, unexplainable way that troubled him.
He wanted Clare; his desire for her had been an ever-present torment since Vegas. Yet he resisted her, refused himself, his reasons legitimate and sound, lined up like a row of righteous judges in his mind.
He’d convinced himself it was important for both their sakes to avoid anything physical, especially since a divorce was inevitable. He realized now he was only partially right. His reasons for backing out of the marriage were far more complex than he could acknowledge, deeply rooted in emotions he was only beginning to understand.
When he made love to Clare, he was completely vulnerable to her, his soul was laid bare. Loving her cost him dearly. He lost the ability to hide behind the barrier of indifference. He couldn’t love her and remain passive. Marrying Clare had been the most exhilarating experience of his life, and at the same time the most revealing. Because of Clare he could no longer hide.
The desire to run from her vanished, overpowered by his rapidly increasing need. He kissed her again and again, tentative, light kisses in the dark. Her trembling body moved against him, and soon unabated desire seared through them both.
Making soft cooing sounds, Clare broke away from him, her shoulders heaving with the effort. Then, taking his hand, she led him down the darkened hallway to her bedroom.
Moonlight dimly lit the neat, well-kept room, and Reed smiled, remembering the careless way in which Clare had discarded her clothes the night they’d exchanged their vows. He hadn’t known her well enough then to appreciate how eager she’d been for him.
He knew her now. Understood her. Heaven help them both, he loved her, and where that love would lead them, he could only speculate.
Clare smiled up at him, and Reed swore her look cut clear through him. Her unselfishness, her generosity had deeply affected him. He kissed her again, taking more time, savoring each small kiss, each sigh. Together they lay upon the mattress, their breathing growing more labored. Reed trembled with impatience.
They sighed in harmony as his mouth locked over hers. Reed found it impossible to refuse her anything, least of all what he wanted most himself. Again his lips claimed hers in a lengthy, deep kiss. By mutual, unspoken agreement, they parted long enough to remove their clothes. Reed’s hands shook with the urgency of the task, finishing before her. He turned to help her and soon discovered that his fumbling hands impeded the process.
Clare smiled at him in the moonlight, her eyes eager and happy. The love he felt for her in that moment was nearly his undoing. A yearning, deep and potent, gripped him. He discovered he could wait no longer—his need was too great. He wanted to explain, apologize, but he found himself incapable of doing more than steering her back toward the bed.
Afterwards neither of them spoke. Reed had never been one for words, and he found them impossible now. He needed Clare. He loved her, but he couldn’t have said it, couldn’t have managed it just then.
Nestled in his arms, she seemed encompassed in lassitude and close to sleep. The same way Reed was himself. He closed his eyes, content and satisfied and she nestled into his embrace and they both slept.
Shortly after dawn, Reed woke. The sun shone through a narrow slice between the drapes. Clare remained in his embrace, and the wealth of emotion he experienced being there with her produced an odd, intense pain in his heart.
He’d never known a woman like Clare. She looked small and fragile, but she had the heart of a lion and a bold, unflinching courage. There’d never been anyone in his life like her.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her crown, savoring her warmth and her softness. She smelled warm and feminine and his body ached with his need for her.
In an effort to divert his mind, he allowed his thoughts to wander in an attempt to judge their future together. He loved Clare more than he had dreamed it was possible to love.
The thought of anyone looking down on her because of him, of calling her the names Jack had, produced a fierce protective anger.
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t touch her, vowed he’d do the right thing by her, then broken his own word. When he’d seen her at the jail, he’d wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her. Didn’t she realize what she was risking by posting his bail? She opened herself up to speculation and possible ridicule and everything else Reed was looking to protect her from. She’d done it for him. She’d do it again, too. Their lives together would demand a long list of forfeits, and he wasn’t sure what she had to gain.
He frowned as he carefully weighed the cost in his mind. A sense of alarm filled him, alarm that she would carry the burden of speculation because of him. He knew she’d do so willingly, without question, with the same courage and generosity that he’d witnessed in her earlier.
He couldn’t do it, Reed realized in the next heartbeat.
He couldn’t drag her into his world, that isolated island. She didn’t belong there, and deserved much better. Nor could he join her in her world. He was who he was, and the ways of the white man had always bewildered him.
He had no option. He loved Clare, and because he did, he had to set her free.
Clare woke slowly, by degrees, more content than she could ever remember being in her life. Reed had come to her, had loved her, had spent the night with her. All night.
She had never known a man like him. They’d make love, sleep for an hour or so, then wake and make love again. It was by far the most incredible experience of her life. Clare found she could refuse him nothing. Each time they’d made love as man and wife had been different. Unique.
They hadn’t talked. The communication between them had been made with sighs and moans. Quietly snuggled in each other’s arms they’d lain utterly content and listened to the sounds of the night. A whispering breeze, an owl’s hooting call. Clare’s head had rested over Reed’s heart, and she could hear the even, heavy thud of his pulse in her ear. She’d found such simple pleasure in being held by her husband.
Rolling onto her side, she scooted closer to him, intending to wrap her arm around his middle. After the tumultuous night they’d spent, she felt comfortable enough to freely touch him.
Only he wasn’t there.
Clare opened her eyes, and even then she was surprised to find him gone. Surely he wouldn’t have left her, not without saying something. Not without a warm goodbye. Surely he wouldn’t do something so crass after what they’d shared.
She struggled out of bed, reached for her robe, and with quick steps ventured into the kitchen. Part of her was completely confident she’d find him sitting at her table sipping a cup of coffee.
Padding barefoot from one room to the next, she soon realized she was wrong. Reed was nowhere to be found. Her home was as empty as her heart.
One possible explanation piled on top of another. There could be any number of very good reasons why Reed had found it necessary to leave her.
Certain she’d missed something. She searched her home again, looking for a note, something, anything that would remove this terrible sensation of doubt and inadequacy.
Not sure what she should do, she brewed a cup of coffee and sat, holding the mug with both hands, while she collected her thoughts.
They were married. It wasn’t as though he’d abandoned her, but if that was the case, then why did she feel so desolate, so…forsaken?
A glance at the clock reminded Clare that she didn’t have time to lounge around her kitchen and sort through the uncertainties. Surely Reed intended to contact her at some point during the day.
She dressed, choosing a pale pink summer dress with a wide belt and pastel flowered jacket. It wasn’t something she wore to work
often, but dark outfits had become her uniform looked stark and unfriendly. She kept her hair down, too, because she knew Reed liked it that way. He’d never told her so, but he seemed to take delight in removing the pins and running his fingers through its length.
All morning Clare looked for Reed. Her stomach seemed to be upset, but she wasn’t sure if it was nerves or if she was coming down with something.
It wasn’t Reed who stopped in to see her. Instead, it was her mother.
Clare recognized the look her mother wore immediately. The pinched lips, the beleaguered, weary sadness in the eyes that said Clare had done something to displease her.
“Hello, Mom,” Clare greeted, forcing some enthusiasm into her voice.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Go ahead,” she said. She hadn’t been very busy, and there wasn’t anyone at the front desk who required her attention. She could listen to her mother’s chastisement and return books to their proper slots at the same time.
“Your father had a call from Jim Daniels this morning.”
It certainly hadn’t taken the stalwart deputy long to make his report, Clare noted. She’d hoped it would take two or three weeks before word of her posting Reed’s bail leaked to her parents.
“Do you have anything to say?”
“Yes,” Clare answered calmly. “I’m a woman now, Mother. I’m not thirteen, or eighteen or even twenty-one. I’m not a young lady to be admonished for wrongdoing.”
The pinched lips tightened even more. “I see.”
“I mentioned to you earlier that I was dating Reed Tonasket. He’s a friend…a very good friend.”
“Do you have any other friends who get themselves thrown in j ail?”
“No,” she agreed readily enough. “He’s the first.”
“Then I hope to high heaven he’s the last jailbird you date.”
“Personally I don’t think it was an experience he’s looking to repeat, either.”
“I should hope not,” her mother said primly. Her black handbag dangled from her arm, and when she sighed, she looked older than her years and troubled. “I can’t help being concerned about you, Clare. I’m afraid you’re showing signs of becoming…desperate.”
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