* * *
Her father died. Sam couldn’t bear it. The man she adored faded away to a skeleton in a short few weeks. Mac came home and she poured out all her wretchedness to him.
“Come on, let’s go for a ride,” he suggested.
Sam sensed a strange new tension between them. He’d changed so much he was like a different person. Even though he listened to her sorrowful outpourings patiently, she felt she was talking to a near stranger as they rode to what was once their favorite resting-place.
Sam instantly dismounted when they stopped by the river. “You don’t love me anymore, do you?” she blurted foolishly as he dismounted and busied himself with tethering the horses. “You’ve changed so much I hardly recognize you.” Flinging away from him, she felt like a volcano about to erupt.
Coming to stand by her side he took one of her hands in his. It looked so small wrapped in his large one. “I’ll admit I’ve changed, Sam. It was inevitable, wasn’t it? I’ve broadened my outlook and matured mentally as well as physically, but my standards haven’t changed. I promise you my heart will always be here. Or wherever you are, kitten. There, how’s that for a declaration of love?” He grinned, but she wasn’t to be so easily comforted.
“I don’t believe you.”
He muttered a curse she’d never heard him use before and she stared at him in shock. He rubbed a hand over his neck as if embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said. “Look, how about I promise never to care for anyone as I care for you, is that better?”
“Let’s seal the promise with a kiss.” She tilted her head and gave him what she thought was a provocative look. But he made no move to take her up on the idea, so she pressed herself against him. His sharp indrawn breath gave her the courage to go on. “I have curves in the right places now, bet you didn’t even notice,” she purred artlessly. Only recently had she become aware of her changing shape.
Now she was also aware, starkly, of his powerful shoulders and well-defined muscles. He was a mature man, and she became aware of something else; the indefinable scent of him.
Sam’s eyed dropped to his faded jeans, and then rose to scan his short-sleeved shirt. She admired the way both garments fitted so well. Suddenly, he seemed intimidating; and that was odd, for hadn’t he always been the one true friend she’d had in this world.
Instinct warned her that beneath the controlled demeanor he showed her he was holding a powerful emotion in check. “Some of the girls at school told me about the things they let the boys do to them. You can touch me...if you like.” The offer was made in a tentative whisper.
Short gasps left his throat—as if he was having trouble drawing breath. Pushing her away with a roughness that stunned her, he said harshly, “God, Sam, you’re not stupid.” He didn’t look a bit like her Mac; his face grim and forbidding. He made her feel just that—stupid.
“You know as well as I do that if I touched you I’d be hauled up before the magistrate. You’re fourteen, for God’s sake. Just what sort of person are you turning into?” With another shaky breath he shouted, “Now, stop making such suggestions or we’ll both be in trouble.” He shook a fist at her and she cringed away from the hard look in his eyes.
Sam flinched as he stepped away as if he couldn’t abide her near him.
“I thought you loved me,” she whispered, feeling so silly she could have wept. In fact a tear seeped from her eye and she brushed it away impatiently. “If I have to wait until I’m old enough for you to kiss me, you’ll find someone else, I just know it.”
Digging his hands into his back pockets he gazed at the horses for a while before saying quietly, “I’ve made a promise, haven’t I? Would I break a promise to you?”
* * *
As Sam hovered between puberty and womanhood, life became a constant puzzle to her. Over the next year she missed Mac so much it felt as if a great hole had been carved in her middle, whilst he seemed to miss her not one little bit.
Why would he even think about a country mouse while he had all those city women at his beck and call?
Lonely Pride Page 6