Out of Exile

by Carla Cassidy

  His blood heated and surged through him, filling him with strength and purpose. She would be his. He knew it in his heart. He recognized it in his very soul.

  This afternoon she had stood so close to him he could have reached out his hand and touched her. He knew just how her skin would feel. He’d dreamed about touching her a thousand times.

  And, in the brief words they’d exchanged that afternoon, he’d seen the spark of something secret and knowing in her eyes.

  She knew they belonged together. They didn’t have to exchange a word. It was a knowledge both of them retained in their souls.

  His gaze narrowed as he watched Matthew Delaney pour Lilly a drink. Something in the way he looked at Lilly as he handed her the glass stirred a feeling of threat. For just a moment he thought he saw desire in Matthew’s eyes.

  “You can’t have her,” he whispered, his gaze intent on the tall, handsome cowboy. “She’s mine.”

  As he saw the gathering starting to break up, he scurried away from the window and into the night shadows. Fate had given him a second chance to claim Lilly as his own, and he wasn’t about to allow Matthew Delaney to stand in his way.

  He got into his pickup and headed for his own place, knowing it would be too dangerous to hang around the ranch anymore that evening.

  As he drove, he thought again of that look he’d seen in Matthew’s eyes as he’d gazed at Lilly. Matthew Delaney would never get an opportunity to follow through on any desire he might feel for Lilly. He would see to that. He would make sure Matthew was too busy with other things to have time for anything remotely resembling romance.

  Chapter 4

  Lilly had watched the interplay between the Delaney siblings with interest. Never having experienced the joy of sisters or brothers, she’d always had a romanticized version of what sibling relationships should be…and the Delaneys certainly did not fit her perception.

  There had been an edge in the tone of voice they’d used with each other, but none as sharp as the edge in Matthew’s when he spoke to his brothers and sister.

  But that wasn’t what she wanted to discuss with him. She knew that the sibling relationship between the Delaneys was none of her business. She simply thought it was sad that four people who should be bonded together through love, common experiences and blood ties didn’t seem to be a cohesive family unit at all.

  She stood on the front porch, saying goodbye to everyone as they left. She watched as each couple got into their cars and felt a strange sort of longing.

  They would all go home and perhaps make love, or spend the night-time hours lying in one another’s arms, rehashing the day’s events, offering each other support and love.

  The twilight time of day was the time Lilly occasionally regretted her choice to live her life alone. Something about facing the end of the day alone was difficult.

  As she leaned against one of the porch railings, the longing deepened. Did they realize how very lucky they were? Did they realize how brave it was to open yourself so entirely to another person and trust that they would never hurt you, never abandon you?

  She sighed and looked up at the stars that were starting to appear in the sky. Her loneliness tonight felt deeper than usual.

  “You wanted to talk to me?”

  Lilly jumped in surprise at the sound of Matthew’s deep voice behind her. She turned to see him step out onto the porch to join her. “Yes, I did.”

  He stood just outside the door, looking as handsome as she’d ever seen him in a pair of black dress slacks and a short-sleeved, crisp white cotton shirt that exposed powerful forearms. His thick, dark hair was neatly combed and he looked more like a business executive than a rancher.

  “Why don’t you come into the kitchen,” he suggested. “I just made a short pot of coffee. We can talk in there over a cup.”

  “All right,” she agreed. She followed him back into the house and into the kitchen. The light above the sink was the only illumination. He didn’t turn on the big overhead light, but rather went directly to the coffeemaker.

  He poured a cup of the fresh brew, then turned to face her. “I’m afraid I don’t know how you take your coffee,” he said.

  She flashed him a quick smile. “You wouldn’t know. I wasn’t much of a coffee drinker seventeen years ago. Black is fine.”

  Once the coffee was poured, they sat side by side at the table and he looked at her expectantly. “Thank you for letting me sit in at the family meeting. It was quite interesting,” she began.

  One of his dark eyebrows rose. “Interesting? Hardly the term I would use to describe our infrequent gatherings.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Now what was it you wanted to discuss with me?”

  “I was wondering if you knew the name of a good doctor here in town? I’d like to get a complete checkup for Aunt Clara before I leave here.”

  “Is she ill?”

  “No, nothing like that,” she assured him. “She’s had a couple of dizzy spells and I’d just feel better if she got a complete physical.”

  “Johnny Howerton is the local doc. I’ll dig up his number and give it to you in the morning.” He leaned back in his chair, looking more relaxed than he had all evening.

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.” She sipped her coffee and studied him above the rim of her cup. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “If I tell you no will it make any difference?” He offered her a small smile and for just a moment she saw the ghost of the handsome young man she’d enjoyed on those summer days so long ago.

  “Probably not,” she replied with a grin. She took another drink of her coffee, then wrapped her hands around the mug and looked at him. “Why do you want to sell your share of this place?”

  He scowled and stared down into his own mug. “I told you before, I haven’t made any final decisions yet.”

  “But why would you even think about it? It’s so beautiful here, and this place holds your roots, your past. Even when you were young, you talked about this place as if it lived and breathed inside of you, was an integral part of who you are.”

  He was silent for a moment, then his frown deepened and he sat forward. “What difference does it make to you if I sell out or not?” he asked, a touch of impatience in his voice.

  “Certainly it doesn’t make a difference to me, I was just curious, that’s all.” She hesitated a moment, then continued, “And I was curious about why you and your brothers and sister are all so angry with each other?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied curtly. “Nobody is angry with anyone.” His mouth said one thing, but his eyes said another. They were gray, stormy depths that radiated with a turbulence that belied his words.

  She wasn’t sure how far to push or why it seemed so important that she learn more about this man, his moods and the reason for the darkness in his eyes. She decided to lighten the mood. “So what kind of costume are you going to wear to the Halloween party?”

  “I don’t intend to attend.”

  “Why not? It sounds like it’s going to be lots of fun. I wish I were going to be here to enjoy it.”

  The storm clouds in his eyes seemed to lighten. “Why can’t you be here for it? You said you took a leave of absence from school for the year. What do you have to return to Dallas for?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, then grinned wryly. “My life.”

  “And what’s that like?” His eyes were now the gray stars of warmth she remembered from the distant past, a warmth tempered with a teasing spark. “Is it as wonderful as you used to talk about it being? Have you obtained all those lofty plans you used to spout on about?”

  She laughed. “I was pretty sure about what I intended for myself back then, wasn’t I?”

  A hint of a smile played at the corner of his lips. “So tell me. What kind of life does Lilliana Winstead lead back in Dallas?”

  He was close enough to her that she could not only smell his evocative masculine scent, but she could also feel the body hea
t radiating from him. Suddenly it was difficult to think, to focus on the question he’d asked her.

  “It’s a quiet life,” she said, and took another sip of her coffee in an attempt to focus on the conversation instead of on the man himself. “I spend the weekdays at school, counseling students, and often in the evenings I have various meetings to attend. I’m a sponsor for several of the student clubs that meet once a week.”

  “And on the weekends?”

  She shrugged. “Saturday mornings I sleep late, then have lunch at a deli near my apartment building. After lunch if the weather is nice, I go for a walk in a park nearby. Then on Saturday nights I have several friends and we all get together and either go to the theater or play cards or just hang out.”

  Good heavens, she thought in horror. Spoken aloud, her life sounded positively dismal. He pointed to her nearly empty coffee cup, but she shook her head to indicate she wanted no more.

  He got up to pour himself more coffee. “Do you date?” he asked with his back to her.

  She waited until he was facing her once again before replying. “Not very often anymore. I did the whole dating frenzy thing in my midtwenties like most single people do.”

  “But no Mr. Right?” He remained standing near the sink rather than joining her back at the table.

  “I’m not sure I was ever really looking for Mr. Right.” She got up and carried her cup to the sink, where she quickly rinsed it and placed it in the drainer. “I knew from a fairly early age that I’d probably live my life alone. It just seemed right for me.”

  At least it had always seemed right to her until tonight, when she’d watched his married siblings leaving arm in arm, two by two.

  She mentally shook herself and realized Matthew was staring at her intently. “What?” she asked self-consciously.

  Again the whisper of a smile curved just the corners of his lips. “I remember a certain conversation in a hayloft when you told me that you intended to date only older, sophisticated men who could wine you and dine you in the manner you wanted to become accustomed.”

  She laughed, instantly remembering the conversation he was referring to. “Those were the words of a very immature young woman desperately trying to impress a certain young cowboy.”

  “Really?” He set his mug down on the counter and moved closer to where she stood. “Why on earth would you have wanted to impress me?”

  “Oh, Matthew. Don’t be obtuse,” she scoffed, energized by a sudden acceleration of her pulse rate. She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and eyed him again. “You had to have known that I had a terrible crush on you.”

  But he hadn’t known. She saw by his surprised expression that he hadn’t had a clue. There had been times when she’d trembled from his nearness, when her mouth had grown so dry she couldn’t talk and her hands had shaken with the need to touch him.

  She smiled and shook her head ruefully. “And my biggest fear was that I was being too transparent.”

  “Either you weren’t being that transparent or I really was dumb,” he replied dryly. “And the funny thing is, I kind of had a crush on you, too.”

  As silly as it was, his words caused her heart to jump. She leaned with her back against the refrigerator. “You did?” She sighed dramatically. “Just think of all those raging, teenage hormones that went to waste because I wasn’t transparent enough and you were too dumb to realize just how much I wanted you to kiss me.”

  He braced his hand against the refrigerator door just above her head and leaned so close to her she could see the silvery shards that made his eyes such an interesting shade of gray. “Even if I had known you wanted me to kiss you, I probably wouldn’t have done it,” he said softly.

  “Why not?” Her heart thrummed with a rapid beat at his nearness. The smell of him intoxicated her, a scent of fresh, clean maleness coupled with the slightly spicy hint of cologne. She felt as if she were seventeen years old again, and positively desperate for a kiss from him.

  “Because my father would have killed me.”

  For a brief moment their gazes remained locked.

  “But your father isn’t here anymore.” The words seeped out of her on a mere whisper and were followed by a moment of explosive silence. She felt rather foolish as she realized her words were practically a dare for him to kiss her now.

  She pushed herself off the refrigerator and started to step away from him, but before she could take a single step, he crashed his mouth onto hers.

  During her week-long visits over three long, hot summers, she had dreamed of kissing him, but nothing in those girlish imaginings had prepared her for the power, the hunger and the utter thrill of Matthew’s kiss.

  His mouth took possession of hers at the same time his body leaned into her, subtly forcing her back against the stainless steel refrigerator door.

  There was nothing tentative about the kiss. His tongue swirled, touching hers with a heat that was all consuming as he braced his hands against the refrigerator on either side of her.

  His upper body pressed against hers, his broad chest against her breasts, but the contact ended there and she fought the desire to push her hips into his, feel her body against the entire length of his.

  There was a taste of wildness in his mouth, of hungry desire that stole her breath away. She gasped against him, using her tongue to battle with his.

  Someplace in the back of her mind, Lilly was aware of a feeling of barely suppressed energy rolling from him, barely contained control. And for a moment she wished he would snap, completely lose control and make love to her.

  Need rose up inside her, a need that seemed too powerful to fight. She didn’t want to fight it, she wanted to fall into it, satisfy her need with him. She raised her arms, wanting to wrap them around him, pull him tight against her.

  And in that instant he broke the kiss and stepped back from her, his expression virtually unreadable. “There, now we’ve satisfied our curiosity,” he said. “Good night, Lilly.” Without saying another word or without a backward glance, he left her alone in the kitchen.

  Lilly remained leaning back, for the first time noticing the coolness of the stainless steel door at her back. She had a feeling if she attempted to take a single step forward, her legs might crumble beneath her. Weak. She was positively weak with want.

  And he’d managed that with just a single kiss. If he had touched her in any other way, she had a feeling she would have simply melted away.

  Had he kissed her like that in the hayloft so long ago, she had no question that they would have made love. It would have been impossible for her to tell him no…and she wouldn’t have wanted to.

  Shoving away from the refrigerator, she shut off the coffeemaker and rinsed out the pot, then left the kitchen. A complicated man, she thought as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Matthew Delaney was definitely a complicated man.

  “Now we’ve satisfied our curiosity,” he’d said, but he was wrong. She was far from satisfied and more curious than ever.

  The kiss had been a mistake. A big mistake.

  The next morning as Lilly and Matthew began to work to transfer Aunt Clara’s belongings from the main house into the cottage, Matthew found himself playing and replaying that kiss in his mind as he had done through the long hours of a long night.

  Her lips had been softer than he’d imagined. He’d been surprised by the heat retained in them, a heat that had suffused his entire body as he’d kissed her, a heat that had been as threatening as it had been captivating.

  He’d wanted to pull her away from the refrigerator, pull her tight against him so he could feel every inch of her body against every inch of his own.

  She now walked just ahead of him, one of Clara’s boxes in her arms. He tried not to notice the hypnotic sway of her slender hips, the sinful stretch of her legs and the length of dark, silky hair that swung in rhythm with each one of her steps.

  The heat of the kiss had been threatening, because the moment he’d tasted that heat, he’d
wanted more. He’d wanted to tangle his fingers in the rich spill of her hair. He’d wanted to rip her clothes off and bury himself in her. And that was not only a threat, it was a clear danger to them both.

  He juggled the boxes in his arms and focused his attention away from her. They had been working for the past hour to get Clara settled in and only had her rocking chair left to carry from the main house to her new place.

  “Whew!” Lilly exclaimed as she dropped the box she’d been carrying onto the sofa. “It’s a good thing Aunt Clara decided to make this move after she had that estate sale.”

  Matthew set the boxes he’d been carrying down on the floor and tried not to notice how the blue tank top she wore emphasized the brilliant, matching color of her eyes.

  “She’ll have everything she needs here,” he replied. “And what she doesn’t have that she thinks she needs, we’ll get.” She nodded and sent him one of her warm smiles that stirred something rich, yet painful in the very pit of his stomach.

  He looked away from her and swiped his hand through his hair. “We’d better get that rocking chair in here because I have other things to do around here besides this.”

  He sensed her gaze on him and knew he had probably surprised her by the sharpness of his tone. Good. Better she learn that he was a miserable son-of-a-gun and kept her distance from him. That would certainly be best for both of them.

  “Fine, let’s go get the chair. Then we’re finished here,” she said.

  “You know, I could get somebody else to help me carry this,” Matthew said when they’d returned to the main house and were about to pick up the rocking chair. “It’s solid and really heavy.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she scoffed. She tucked a strand of her long, dark shiny hair behind her ear in a gesture he was finding more and more familiar.

  She’d done it often when she’d been young. When in deep thought or slightly nervous or troubled, her fingers moved to tuck her hair. “I’m here now and I can help,” she continued. “Between the two of us we should be able to get it with no problem.”