by Tia Dani
"I'm not yelling."
On the contrary, Matthew's voice was a notch above a roar. Libby wiped the grin from her face and pivoted, pretending to be surprised. "You aren't?"
* * *
Frustrated, Matthew squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten, trying hard to get his raging heartbeat under control. The woman was impossible. Lifting her skirts and displaying her legs to someone other than her husband. And...she wasn't afraid to touch an unmarried man's bare skin, either. He ignored the small voice of conscience reminding him he'd deliberately walked up to her bare-chested. "Men are different," he muttered to himself.
Someone had to take this cheeky woman in hand. If her father wouldn't teach his daughter some manners, then, by God, he'd be the one to do it. Opening his eyes, he grabbed her wrist and started dragging her toward the barn.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" She yanked her hand away and glared at him.
"I'm taking you to the barn." He reached for her again.
She stepped back, holding her hands out of his reach. "Why?"
"Because I want to talk to you."
"So, what's wrong with talking here?"
"What I have to say has to be said in private."
Libby shook her head and moved closer to her father. Her arms folded belligerently in front of her chest. "I don't want to talk to you in private."
Theo remained quiet but kept a close watch on them both.
Matthew turned to him. "Sir, if you don't mind, there's a matter I'd like to discuss with your daughter."
He wasn't sure how Theo would respond to the idea of his daughter dragged off to the barn, but he took a chance the man might welcome some intervention. After all, he had to know how lax he'd been in curbing his independent, terribly brazen daughter.
To his relief, Theo laughed and tapped his cane on the ground.
"Go on, Libby. He's not going to bite. Besides, you might hear something interesting."
She blinked in astonishment. "But—"
"Remember David," her father interrupted. "What we talked about earlier?"
Theo's question made her pause. Suddenly, she pivoted and snapped, "Come on."
She didn't wait. She stomped past him and headed for the barn at a furious pace.
Matthew spun on his heel and followed. Who in the hell was David? What did the man mean to her if she'd come so willingly?
"Who's David?" he blurted the instant they entered the barn.
"None of your business." She stepped farther into the dimness then whirled. "What do you want?"
"It's not my business. But I'd like to hear who David is."
"Someone who used to like me. Okay? Now, what do you want?"
"What did you do? Break his heart?"
She glared at him as if he had lost his mind. "Hardly. David threw me over for Arlene Davis. He decided he wanted her instead of me."
Matthew had an image of a man bodily lifting her in the air and tossing her over something. "What were you doing, arguing with this Arlene?"
"Are you kidding? Arlene and I never fought. We were best of friends."
"Then why did he throw you?"
"Oooh..." Libby started to giggle.
Matthew frowned and stepped toward her. She stopped him by holding up a hand and doubling over in a gale of laughter. Frustration fueled his anger. Here he was standing like a post while she laughed at him.
Her mirth finally trailed off. She inhaled and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Matthew, you are funny at times."
He was deadly serious. "I don't—"
"I should have realized you wouldn't understand what I was talking about. I didn't think about 'threw me over'. Where I...uh come from...it's a common term."
She unexpectedly kissed him on the cheek. "I'm sorry. That was unfair of me."
Matthew drew in a sharp breath at the heat that sizzled across his skin from the simple touch of her lips. He opened his mouth but words failed him. His throat had closed up tighter than a bank on Sunday. Her lips against his cheek felt like the down of a baby chick. Her hair smelled of sunshine, and her sweet-spicy fragrance had filled his nostrils.
He cleared his throat, hoping his voice would work. "Miss Strammon, about this term?"
"Throwing me over?" she offered helpfully. "It means someone who once liked you, decides they don't want to like you anymore and wants to like someone else. It's sort of like...tossing out one girlfriend for another."
Matthew shook his head. "I don't think I'd like being thrown over."
"I didn't, either, at the time. I didn't speak to Arlene for three weeks. But, since David threw her over for Nancy not long after, Arlene and I became best friends again."
"You're joking?" David must have been the worst kind of rake. Abruptly, he remembered Theo's comment about David had sent her to the barn with him. Did her father think he was like David?
He stiffened. He'd never use women that way. Never. Thinking about Libby's acquaintances jolted him back to his original purpose.
"Miss Strammon, about our talk."
"Oh, here we go." She eyed him with disgust and walked toward an overturned crate. "For a moment there, Mr. Domé, I thought you were almost human." She sat with a huff and waved a hand. "Please continue. What about our talk?"
The aliveness on her face disappeared. Deep within, Matthew suffered an odd loss but concentrated on his opinion. "I have come to the conclusion you are an independent woman, Miss Strammon. Independent, highly opinionated, and very candid."
"True. I'm all of those."
He didn't like her agreeing with him so readily. Most women were defensive when their character was criticized.
"I would think those kind of qualities would be detrimental for a woman."
"Why?" Her interest must have been stirred for her expression turned wondrous.
"Because, no man would ever want to marry a woman like that."
Her expression turned to scorn. "I'm not looking for a husband. So why should I care what men think of me?"
Matthew jumped on her words. "You're not looking for a husband? Then what are you and your father doing here?"
He wasn't about to voice his suspicions. It would alert them he was on to their plans. He leaned closer so his face was a hairsbreadth away from hers. "Care to answer that?"
She seemed to hold her breath for several seconds. "I told you, we came for a visit."
"For how long? A month? A year?"
"I don't know." She was clearly upset. She ran her hand up and down the fabric covering her leg. "However long it takes for the—"
"The what?" She'd stopped herself and nervously licked her lips. "The what?" he repeated, hating the odd desire to lower his mouth over hers and see if her lips were as moist as they appeared.
As if she read his mind, she stiffened. "It's none of your business. Back up."
Good, he had frustrated her for a change. Matthew loomed closer, forcing her to lean back. "Oh, but it is my business. You're hiding something and if it's the last thing I do, Miss Strammon, I aim to find out what your real purpose is for coming here, and..." he added, deliberately, "where you came from."
Libby stared up at him with defiance shouting from every inch of her body. He could tell she was thinking, plotting her defenses. There was no doubt in his mind; she was preparing for battle.
For a brief second, Matthew wondered what he was getting himself into. As a soldier, he'd learned no worthy opponent ever conceded a battle without first giving it a hard fight.
And—with what he'd seen of her quick wit and sharp mind over the past few weeks—he knew she was going to give him the fight of his life.
Chapter Nine
Overwhelming darkness pressed down upon Libby's chest. She moaned in protest against the airless weight. Bone-chilling cold seeped into her bones, and an unnamed terror filled her, threatening to take control of her mind. Desperately she struggled to find a tiny breath of much needed air.
&n
bsp; A banshee wail crawled its way up her throat. She clamped her mouth shut, knowing it would take her last bit of air. She must keep her terror and despair contained.
From afar a light materialized. The overpowering weight which crushed her chest disappeared, but not the terrible, aching cold. Libby stretched for the bright light, willing its warmth to come to her.
A man, surrounded by shimmering rays, took shape.
No longer alone, Libby cried out. To her horror, no sounds left her mouth. The black void of nothingness had stolen her voice.
Tears spilled onto her cheeks. Helplessness dug like sharp fingernails into her mind, rasping and tearing memories away. How or why had she'd come to this place?
Libby tried again to tell the man she wanted help. But, like before, her words melted the instant they left her mouth.
He must have understood, for he shook his head and pointed. When she imitated him and shook her own head, he pointed again.
Libby's sob clutched at her throat. His message clear. She was not allowed to join him.
Devastated, she turned her head in the direction he pointed. In the faraway darkness, another small light appeared. As it grew in size, an image, hazy and distorted, waited beyond a golden, burning-red center.
A feeling of safety swept through Libby, warm and welcoming. This light came for her. Not the other.
Her heartbeat increased. Another man appeared, only much different than the first one she had seen. This man was larger, broader in shoulder.
Her father...coming for her.
Hope swelled in her breast. Every bone, muscle, sinew, and fiber strained to move within her. Yet with every tortured motion, she seemed to advance very little. Why could she not move? She looked at her feet. They were not hers. They belonged to a child, a very small child.
Determined to join her father no matter what the cost, Libby used all her remaining strength to break free of her invisible, restraining bonds. To her relief, the blackness surrounding her began to lighten with her exertion.
"No...oo...ooo!"
A child's desolate cry rang out, wrapping itself around her and drawing her back into ebony blackness.
Someone, somewhere, didn't want her to go toward the light, didn't want her to leave.
She hesitated. Before her waited light, warmth, and her father. Behind her was a child who needed help. Wavering between the light and the dark, indecision paralyzed her.
"Go to the light, baby. It's your only chance."
The whisper came so softly. She almost didn't hear it. It was a man's voice, not her father's, yet, someone she knew. Someone she loved.
But who?
Before Libby could remember, her body lifted, as if held aloft by unseen hands. No longer did she have to struggle toward the light. A power greater than her own sent her rushing her toward her father.
As Libby drew closer to the red circle of light, the icy coldness wrapped around her seemed to thaw. A smell of burnt grass, burning fuel, and liquid metal reached her nostrils making her gag. Heat scorched her skin. Small blisters appeared on her arms.
Surprisingly the blisters caused no pain. She saw her father no longer moving. He stood off to one side with another man. Both watched a tangled mass of metal and rubber burn out of control. Black, nauseating smoke rose into the air in billowing waves.
Extreme heat overpowered her almost as much as the icy cold. Libby shook uncontrollably. She opened her mouth to cry out but the acrid odor of melting rubber scorched her throat.
"My God, Theo, look there."
For the first time, Libby could hear someone speak clearly. Her father spun around. To her surprise, he yelled and ran toward her, yanking off his shirt.
"Go get help, Harry."
As he skidded to a halt in front of her, he was joined by the other man.
"Where did she come from, Theodore?" The man suddenly looked at the burning wreckage in horror. "She survived the crash?"
"She must have. Where else would she have come from?"
Her father bent and gave her a loving smile. He gently wrapped his shirt around her. The warmth felt wonderful, yet painful at the same time.
Libby whimpered and tried to pull it off.
"Leave it, child, it will help smother some of the fire."
Libby looked down and saw her clothes torn and smoldering. Even her braids lay across her shoulders with heavy black soot.
Libby reached up with a trembling hand and touched one of the braids. It disintegrated between her fingers. Large tears filled her eyes, and she looked up at her father in dismay. Her beautiful hair.
Understanding, he smiled. "It'll grow long again."
She wanted to respond, but was prevented from saying anything when the man beside her father blurted, "Where did you come from?"
Libby frowned. Someone else wanted to know the same thing. Who was it? She reached up to rub her forehead. Her father stopped her.
"Don't touch. It'll hurt."
His voice sharpened, and he said angrily over his shoulder, "Go on, Harry, get help like I said. The child's in shock."
She shook her head, wanting to remind her father she wasn't a child anymore. She hadn't been one for a very long time.
Harry spoke. "It's all right, Theo. Someone must have seen the plane go down and called into town. Here comes the fire truck. Thank God, too. The fire's spreading to the next field."
Sirens, followed by roaring engines, shrilled in the distance. A pickup barreled toward them from the south. When it came to an abrupt halt, a woman with red hair jumped from the vehicle and sprinted over to them.
Libby started crying deep agonizing sobs. It was her mother, much like she had looked when Libby was younger. Her mother was alive.
"Mamma," she cried. "Oh, Mamma."
She held out her hands, desperately wanting to feel her mother's arms around her again. She wanted to be close enough to inhale the White Shoulders perfume her mother always wore.
Her mother didn't hesitate. She took Libby into her arms and cradled her tenderly. "Theo, where did she come from?"
Where did you come from?
Suddenly her mother disappeared. A man with dark eyes and hair stood in her place. He loomed over her, glaring down angrily.
Why are you here?
Libby cringed and leaned away as far as she could. He meant danger for her and her father.
They had to leave. Leave before it was too late.
But where could they go? Where could they stay until it was time?
Time for what?
Time to find somewhere safe.
Go to the cellar.
Run! Run! Run as fast as you can.
Now a young boy yelled at her, his voice filled with horror. Libby felt his fear deep within her soul.
She turned and gasped.
In the distance a storm built with its bluish light. Lightning flashed everywhere, drawing energy within its nucleus.
Was it going to take her back to the blackness?
Libby could not go back to the horrible place where she had been. Not now. She wanted to go home.
Safe. She wanted to go where it was safe.
Libby jumped to her feet and ran. This time, she wouldn't let it catch her.
* * *
Unable to sleep, Matthew yawned and rose from his bunk. He padded quietly across the room so as to not awaken Joseph and Tim. When he reached the small window overlooking the tall trees which ran opposite of the main house, he yawned again and rested his forearms on the sill of the open window. He welcomed the cool, sweet-smelling breeze coming from the north and let it caress his face.
He couldn't seem to get Libby from his mind. All night, he lay thinking how she aroused his desire. She was a mystery.
Why was it she got under his skin?
Maybe Joseph's theory had merit. Maybe he was interested in more than finding out where she'd come from. He shifted his arms in anticipation. Tomorrow morning was going to be interesting. How would she act when they came face
to face at breakfast? Would she carry on a normal conversation, or would she ignore him completely?
Matthew chuckled, taking bets on the latter. She'd done enough of it during and after supper. Several times, she'd mumble to herself then glance at him. And each time, he'd deliberately grin and wink in return.
Not unexpectedly, she'd glare at him and turn away. Before long she'd glance over his way again and resume her mumbling. He couldn't hear what she said, but he sure did enjoy watching her. He especially liked watching her lips. It intrigued him how her upper lip would curl slightly at the corners, like an imp about to do something devilish.
Matthew shifted uncomfortably as his lower body responded to the memories. An underlying ache began building, and he knew he was in trouble. It couldn't be plainer if it had been painted on a barn wall. Plain and simple, he had a sexual attraction to Libby. Even with all her faults and secrets.
The idea of desiring his adversary disconcerted him. In the past he'd been careful to keep his feelings under control, especially with women who might have ulterior motives on their mind. The last thing he wanted was to become trapped into a marriage he didn't want.
Marriage.
At the dangerous thought, Matthew straightened. Libby's words in the barn came back to him, and he grinned. She wasn't looking for a husband. And, she didn't care what men thought of her. She'd proven it beyond doubt. No woman wanting to snare a husband would lift her skirts in broad daylight and display all her womanly wares. Besides, dammit, hadn't she admitted she'd already had a lover? Women interested in marriage didn't take lovers. If this David used her, then hell, so could he.
Matthew almost rubbed his hands in anticipation. Whether Miss Strammon realized it or not, he'd upped the stakes. Not only was he going to find out why she was here and where she came from, he'd get her into his bed.
His soft chuckle echoed in the quiet room. He looked over his shoulder at his bunk, then at his two sleeping companions. Maybe not here, but at least someplace where their lovemaking would be exciting and private.