Running toward the front door of the castle, he threw himself against the wood, landing inside on the stone floor, kicking the mighty oak door closed behind him and shutting out the frustrated roar of the thwarted animal. Lying still, heart pounding, the sound of music, louder now, met his ears.
Standing, he moved toward the sound but as he entered the room, the music stopped. The stone walls were covered in tapestries and thick rugs kept the cold floors warm. Moving further into the room, he walked past the furniture, heading toward the stone fireplace, the blazing logs sending out warmth. A pile of blankets lay nearby and he fell onto them, pulling the top one over his shivering body.
The music began again and he fell into a deep sleep, the soft sounds of a woman’s voice lingering in his ears as the soft touch of her hand rested on his.
Sleep eased away as the words became more focused. A woman…Eleanor…was reading. Lying still, he assumed she did not know he was awake as her voice continued steadily. Her reading voice was as beautiful as her singing, because he was pretty sure that was her singing, and the sound pulled him in as the words swirled around him.
He tried to understand how such a young woman was a shut-in. She seemed able. He remembered seeing the back of her on the terrace the other day. Her body was straight, with no obvious impairment. She had managed to drag his large body out of the storm and into the warmth by the fireplace. Where did she get that strength? She had assessed his wounds as well, dressing them. How did she gain that knowledge? She was, even now, taking charge, sitting with her hand on his.
Bellamy House. He realized he could have investigated the history of the mansion with an Internet search but, he had felt no need to. He was just there for the landscaping.
She continued to read, her dulcet voice reaching deep inside of him.
“I can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.”
He recognized the book—Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre. Live alone…is that what’s she’s doing? He thought of how he had been living alone in the cottage for the past weeks, little contact with the outside world, and how restful it had been. So much more than the flash of the cameras, the plastic bodies in the plastic world. As he lay, warm and safe with the storm raging and the wind howling outside, he felt at peace, a feeling he had not felt in many years…if ever. Certainly not in the Army or in the modeling world. Had I sold my sold my soul to buy bliss? he wondered.
13
Eleanor felt Rafe’s fingers twitch and she jerked her gaze from the pages of the book down to his face. Unable to see his eyes, hidden behind the bandage, she whispered, “Are you awake?”
“Yeah,” he replied, his voice more like a croak. Clearing his throat, he said, “Sorry.”
“No, no, don’t apologize,” she admonished. “Let me get your water.” Reaching up to the bottle of water she had nearby, she unscrewed the top and placed a straw into the neck. Placing one hand underneath his shoulders, she lifted slightly as she guided the straw to his lips. “Here, suck.”
Finally able to lift his upper body up, resting on his elbows Rafe took several long sips. Grateful for the cool liquid, he did not stop until the straw made a sucking sound. Grinning, he said, “I must have struck bottom.”
Pushing himself up further, he sat up, pulling the blankets firmly around his waist, not wanting to flash his employer…or rather his rescuer. “Thanks,” he said, not missing the touch of her hand on his.
“I’ve got some beef stew on the stove for you. I’ll go get it and be right back—”
“Please, don’t go to any trouble for me.”
“Don’t be silly. I need to eat also and it’s no more trouble to serve two than it is to serve one.”
He listened as her footsteps padded down the hall, sure now of her uneven gait, then inhaled deeply before letting it out slowly. Lifting his hand, he felt the bandage over his brow and the puffiness around his eyes. Of all the dumbass things to do! Chastising himself for getting out at the beginning of a storm to try to take down a heavy limb, he groaned as the act of shaking his head caused pain. If I’d just left the fuckin’ thing…even if it fell, I could have cut it into pieces to haul away after the storm. And now? Until the swelling in his eyes went down in a couple of days, he would not be able to see, nor do his job.
Tilting his head, he heard Eleanor’s footsteps coming back into the room, along with the scent of roasted beef and savory sauce with vegetables. His stomach chose that moment to let out an audible growl and she laughed.
“I guess you are hungry,” she said, setting the bowl on the coffee table before kneeling next to him. “I made sure that the stew is warm, but not hot. It won’t burn you, but I can feed you to make it easier.”
He brought his hands up. “Oh, no. You’re not feeding me,” he protested, irritation at his limited ability swelling inside. “If you place the bowl in my hands, I can manage.”
Frowning, she said, “You don’t have to try to be macho, you know. It’s okay to need someone—”
“Says the lady who hides away,” he retorted, frustration filling his voice.
Eleanor jerked, his words a slap. Forcing her voice to remain steady, she placed the bowl in his outstretched hands, “Fine. I’ll be back later to collect the bowl, or do you think you can find your way around without seeing?” Rising, she took her bowl and left the room.
“Wait,” Rafe said, hearing her uneven footsteps move away from him. “Dammit!” Angry that he allowed his pride to snap at her, after all she had done, his hand shook with the desire to throw the bowl against the wall. Sucking in a deep breath, he knew Miss Ethel would never forgive him for giving in to that desire. Instead, he berated himself. Miss Ethel would be ashamed of his cutting comment to Eleanor.
Uncertain when Eleanor might reappear, if ever, he lifted the bowl with one hand while finding the spoon with the other. Dipping into the fragrant stew, he sipped it gently, finding it as she said—warm but not too hot. The delicious, thick broth filled with chunks of roast beef, potatoes, carrots, and corn, had him lifting the spoon quicker in an effort to satisfy his hunger.
As the spoon began to scrape the bottom of the bowl, he replayed how stupid his words to her had been. Not only had he insulted a woman, his employer, and rescuer, making her uncomfortable enough to leave the room, he was now alone, not knowing the inside of the house or how to take care of his needs. The desire for more water and a bathroom only fueled his guilt as he inwardly cursed his hasty, unkind words.
Hearing footsteps re-entering the room he hastened to apologize. “Ms. Bellamy, I’m so sorry…that was an unkind and completely uncalled-for comment to make. I’m not usually like that…I can only blame the unusual situation that I find myself in, but that’s still no excuse. Please forgive me.”
He cocked his head to the side, waiting to see if she was still in the room. He knew it was her…the delicate scent of roses clung to her hair. He lifted his head, a slight intake of breath somewhere above him.
“Please…call me Eleanor,” she replied, her words soft as she bent beside him, taking the empty bowl from his hands.
“Eleanor, I’m so sorry…”
Rafe’s voice, laced with regret reached her heart. “You don’t need to apologize,” she said with a shrug, licking her lips in uncertainty. “I suppose we all have our triggers. You need to be independent and I need to be…uh…well, I guess alone is the best word.”
“The stew was delicious, by the way.”
She smiled, recognizing his attempt to lead the conversation to a less contentious topic. “Thank you. Sally made it, actually. I brought some more water.” Placing the bottle in his hand, she allowed him to unscrew the top and take a large gulp.
Finishing, he replaced the cap and handed it back to her. “Thank you.” Clutching the blanket
with his hand, he said, “I guess I’d better figure out how to get back to my cottage.”
“Not today, I’m afraid.”
“But—”
“Well, right now your clothes are in the washing machine and then they’ll have to go into the dryer. I’ve brought a pair of sweatpants for you to put on. They belonged to my father…I assure you they’re clean and should be close to the right size.”
Rafe felt the soft, fleece being placed in his lap and he smiled. “Thank you. I’ll return these as soon as I get back with my other clothes.”
“Rafe, I’m afraid you still don’t understand,” she said, her gaze scanning his face. “The gale-force winds have died down, but there are still some gusts. Plus, the storm will continue into the night. Then they are calling for another two days of heavy rain.”
His breath left him in a rush as he tried to think through the situation. “I…well, I’m not sure exactly what to do, in light of that information. I know I can’t make it to the cottage myself, but then I don’t want you out in the storm—”
“Is there anything in the cottage that you can’t live without for a couple of days?”
Shaking his head, careful of the pain, he said, “No…not really. Well, truthfully, not at all.”
“Then I think the only recourse is for you to stay here for now. We can’t get out by car until the downed tree is removed. We have food, fire, a gas stove, and I’m pretty sure the electricity will be fixed by tomorrow. Internet? Um, I’m not so sure. That may take an extra day.”
“Eleanor, that’s really generous of you, but—”
“But what? You need time for your head to heal and for the swelling around your eyes to go down. You can’t work until then. This house has six bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, so I hardly think you’ll be lacking for privacy.”
He heard the smile in her voice and chuckled. “No, from the looks of the outside of this beautiful place, I’d say privacy is not a problem.”
Her voice caught in her throat at his words. “Beautiful? You think Bellamy House is beautiful?”
Shocked at her question, he said, “Absolutely. I think it’s one of the most beautiful homes I’ve ever seen. But why would you ask? Don’t you like it?”
“Yes, of course I do!” Eleanor cast her gaze around the room. The thick, green draperies were tied back so she could see heavy raindrops sliding down the window panes. The stone fireplace, not as formal as the brick structure in the living room, gave this room a feel similar to the cottage. The plush, Oriental rug underneath them threw colors of green and red against the dark, hardwood floor. The floral, comfortable sofa facing the fireplace with matching deep-cushioned chairs flanking, continued the room’s homey feel.
“I love this house,” she confessed, her voice once again soft. “It’s just a little…um…old world for this part of the country.”
“The first time I came up the drive I was captivated by the architecture,” he said, a smile on his face. Shifting slightly, he added, “I’d love to hear more about the house at some time, but I need to…uh…”
“Oh, my goodness,” she exclaimed, her cheeks burning. “I’ll turn my back and you can slip on the sweatpants. Then I’ll show you to the bathroom. There’s one just down the hall, across from the kitchen.”
She stood and turned around, facing the fireplace and giving him her back. She heard the rustling of blankets and the sound of him moving around.
“You know,” he said, his voice coming from behind her, but higher, indicating that he was standing. “Since I can’t see, how do I know you turned your back?”
“I…well, I…” she stammered.
Laughing, he rescued her from her embarrassment. “I’m only teasing.”
Her laughter peeled out, mixing with his. The sound felt unusual to her ears and she wondered when the last time was she had really laughed. Reaching down to take his hand, she said, “Well, you just better hope I take you to the bathroom and not to the top of a staircase!”
Relaxing with her teasing him as well, he nodded, linking his fingers with hers. “I’ll just have to trust that you’ll keep taking care of me.”
Trying to ignore the way his body looked as he leaned slightly in toward her, the sweatpants loose on his waist and tight on his thighs, she carefully guided him out of the study and down the hall, continuing to smile.
Once in the bathroom, Rafe felt his way to the toilet, maneuvering with some difficulty. He never realized how much he used his eyes just to take a piss. Finishing, he felt his way to the sink and washed his hands. Assuming there was a mirror in front of him, he tried to force open his left eye after determining it was the less swollen of the two.
A slit of light shone through, but it was enough to cause him to shut his eye quickly as pain sliced through his head. “Fuck,” he muttered.
A knock on the door brought his head around.
“Rafe? Are you okay in there?”
He felt his way to the door, fumbling for the knob, and swung it open. “Yeah,” he grumbled. “Just feeling sorry for myself,” he admitted. “I tried to pry my eye open so I could see what the hell I look like, but that just made my forehead hurt.”
She reached out and took him by the hand again, pulling him gently forward. “Come on, grumpy. I’ve just put your clothes into the dryer, so you’ll be more comfortable soon.”
Walking along with her tucked up under his shoulder for guidance, he was careful to not lean on her, cognizant of her limp, and small stature. Inhaling the scent of roses again, he was unable to keep the smile from his lips. He found himself curious about the enigmatic Eleanor, especially now that he was certain she wasn’t elderly. “Where are we going?”
“I thought we could go back into the study, only I think you’ll find the sofa to be much more comfortable than the blankets on the floor.”
“Hey, don’t knock the floor. It was dry, warm, and surprisingly comfortable.”
Eleanor smiled as they moved along the hall, Rafe’s hand stretched out to the side, his fingers gliding along the wall for balance and orientation. Describing where he was as they walked, she kept up a running dialog. “We’re going back down the hall that leads from the kitchen to the downstairs study. I suppose it’s more of a family room than a study, but my parents didn’t have a television, so the room was just always called a study. It was my mother’s favorite room and is one of mine as well. My grandmother had it added to the house, loving the comfortable place to relax. The double doors lead to the terrace outside and, with a stone fireplace and comfy furniture, it’s a nice place to hang out.”
She backed him to the sofa and with gentle pressure on his shoulders, guided him to sit. He shifted around, settling into the deep cushions and agreed, “You’re right. This is nice.”
Rafe listened as Eleanor settled on the sofa also, but from her voice it sounded like she was several feet away. Twisting his body toward her, he said, “Now what?”
Pausing, she said, “Well, I guess we just have to wait out the storm.”
14
The silence in the room was broken only by the crackling of the fire. After a little bit, Rafe heard Eleanor rise from the sofa and add some wood to the flames. “I hate that I’m helpless and that you have to do all of this,” he grumbled.
Eleanor sat down, twisting her body so that it faced Rafe on the other end of the sofa and tucked her right leg under her body. She studied him for a moment, seeing the tight muscles in his face and the way he clenched his hands. “Why is that? It is because I’m a woman? Or your employer? Or do you just hate feeling helpless in general?”
Shaking his head slightly, his lips twitched. “You go right to the heart of the matter, don’t you?” Sighing, he said, “I guess it’s mostly that I like being in control. I mean, sure, I was taught to always take care of a lady, so it goes against my grain to have you build the fire…not that you can’t handle the job, but it’s just not how I was brought up.”
“Um…Miss Ethel?�
� she asked, her voice filled with hesitation. He smiled and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“You know Miss Ethel?”
“Well, she was good friends with my mom. I think she still goes to the same church that they used to. That’s how she found out I needed someone here, I suppose.”
“You’re right about her. She definitely taught me how to treat a lady. But, my dad would have been disappointed to think that you were building the fire for me.”
“But, you’re injured,” she protested.
Nodding, he amended, “I guess I should have said that my dad would have been disappointed if there was any way I could have accomplished it myself.” Chuckling, he said, “I suppose I could try it but I’d be afraid I might set fire to your curtains.”
Laughing, Eleanor settled back deeper into the cushions, enjoying the repartee. Other than Sally and the occasional visit by her attorney and accountant, she rarely spent time with others…and certainly not just for the conversation.
“What time is it?”
“It’s almost five o’clock.”
Rafe visible startled, “Wow, I can’t believe it’s so late already. Is the electricity still out?”
“Unfortunately, yes. But I’ve got a gas stove and thought we could have some tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches in a little bit.”
“Sounds perfect.” After a moment, he began, “What about tonight…I…uh…”
“Don’t worry, Rafe, I won’t throw you out,” she laughed. “Remember, Bellamy House has six bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, so once I get you upstairs, you’ll have your own space. My room is at the end of the hall and I’ll put you in the room across from me, in case you need something. And, it’ll be farthest from the stairs, in case you decide to wander in the night.”
His hand drifted to his forehead again, and she leaned forward, placing her hand on his knee. “Are you in pain?”
RafeHeroes at Heart Page 9