RafeHeroes at Heart

by Maryann Jordan

  Miss Ethel’s words filled her chest, swirling inside, reaching to the far corners of her heart. “I’ve been so angry, Miss Ethel. So angry at everything that happened. My family…” As tears pricked at her eyes, the older woman took her hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.

  “Then I think its time to let that go. Let people in and you’ll find it's not as hard as it feels right now to let the anger and pain go.”

  With a warm smile, Miss Ethel and Rosalie stood, carrying their cups to the sink to wash them out. She followed them as they walked toward the front door to say goodbye.

  Hugging them both, heartedly this time, she thanked them for visiting. “I hope you won’t be strangers,” she said. “Please come to visit anytime.”

  “The same to you,” Miss Ethel smiled, as Rosalie grinned.

  Closing the door behind them, she walked toward the family room, peeking through the curtain to see what progress had been made. Gasping, she saw that the massive, damaged tree limb that had crashed upon her terrace had been removed, all traces of it and the broken trellis gone. In its place stood the bones of a new trellis, sturdy and beautiful. Rosalie and Miss Ethel had walked around and were admiring the progress as well.

  She fought the desire to go out and join them, meeting Rafe’s friends and thanking them in person for their work, but her feet remained glued to the floor. Miss Ethel’s words rang in her head and she knew them to be true, but not now. One step at a time…I’ll make my choices one step at a time. For today, meeting the two women had exhausted her and, to be honest, she still feared meeting the men, the thought of seeing their stares at her scars too overwhelming.

  Dropping the edge of the drapery, she walked back to the sofa, taking up her book. A slight smile curved her lips at the realization that Rafe had not left her permanently. He only went away to get help. Reminding herself that she only had him till the end of the summer took the edge off her happiness. But I can reach out of my self-imposed exile…for a little while.

  20

  Rafe stood in the shower of the cottage, the hot water washing the dirt, grime, and sweat from his body. The day’s clearing and building activities had been fun with the guys, but he was reminded of his days in the Army, where by the end of a day of hard labor all he wanted was a hot shower. As he scrubbed his hair, he considered the difference between this job and his work as a model. Grimacing at the idea of spending his day flexing his muscles for a photographer as opposed to using his strength to help someone else, he turned off the water.

  He wished, not for the first time, that his father had not died before giving him the benefit of his wisdom. Dressing in jeans and a clean shirt, he headed into the kitchen to heat some of Miss Ethel’s leftovers. A knock on the door startled him.

  Throwing it open, he jerked in surprise. Eleanor stood before him, the dark evening sky encircling her in shadows as the light from his cottage illuminated her face. Her dark hair, pulled over her right shoulder, framed her pale face, a highlight of blush on her cheeks. Other than the scars on the side of her neck that crept upward toward her right ear, her skin was flawless. Large, expressive brown eyes stared back at him, uncertainty in their depths. Sucking in a quick breath, he stared at her, bewitched. Wearing blue jeans, a green, long-sleeved shirt, and flat shoes, she was as beautiful as any model he had ever escorted.

  As his gaze dropped, he saw she had a covered platter in her hands. Smiling, he stepped aside, waving for her to come inside.

  She entered hesitantly, her eyes darting around before moving back up to his. “I…brought some…uh…dinner.” Shrugging, she said, “If you haven’t already eaten.”

  Taking the platter, he sniffed in appreciation, saying, “I was just about to fix something. Please join me.”

  “I’ve already eaten,” she confessed. “You, and your friends, all worked so late, I thought you might work through the night.”

  Smiling broadly, he said, “We wanted to keep working until we were finished. I’ve got a little more to do myself tomorrow but, for now, it’s a perfectly usable terrace for you.”

  Ducking her head in embarrassment, she finally inhaled deeply before piercing him with her gaze. “I owe you an apology—”

  “No, Eleanor, you don’t,” he interrupted, placing the platter on the counter.

  Her uplifted hands quieted him. “Please, Rafe. I need to say this.” Seeing his nod, she continued, “I should not have turned you away this morning. I loved spending time with you, but confess it was easier when you couldn’t see me. You weren’t just being nice because you felt sorry for me or continually trying to avoid looking at my scars. It was freeing for me…freeing for me to just be myself. So, this morning when you could suddenly see me, I felt…naked…exposed. As though everything that had passed between us was over. And, I reacted badly.”

  Standing so close to him was still giving Eleanor the sensation of fear so she turned and moved into the small living room, noting the coziness of the space. Perching on the edge of the chair, she watched as he followed, sitting on the sofa.

  “This room reminds me of the manor’s family room,” she commented, looking at the stone fireplace, comfortable furniture, and abundance of books.

  “I thought the same thing,” he agreed softly.

  “For someone who enjoys reading as you do, this must have been a delightful addition in the cottage.”

  He nodded, his gaze moving to the books scattered around the room.

  Clearing her throat, she said, “But anyway, I want to thank you for not leaving me and for bringing your friends to help. That was very kind of them.”

  “They were glad to do it.”

  She looked into his face, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “I should have thanked them myself, but it was…well, spending time with Miss Ethel and Rosalie was lovely and probably all I could handle in one day.”

  Rafe nodded silently, allowing her the opportunity to unburden herself, but could not resist reaching over to place his hand on hers. Her right hand.

  Eleanor stilled, her chest heaving until she realized the world had not come to an end because someone held her scarred hand. Battling tears, she lifted her eyes from their linked hands to his face. “Thank you.”

  Rafe knew the toll of the action and those words had taken on her. Giving her fingers a little squeeze, he said, “Sit with me while I eat and then I’ll walk you back to the house.”

  Eleanor opened her mouth to decline, but closed it quickly, finding she wanted that very much. Smiling, she allowed him to lead her to the small table in the corner.

  Thirty minutes later found her curled up on one end of the sofa, he in the chair reading aloud from The Hobbit. She giggled at one point, exclaiming, “I can’t believe you were reading this.”

  Waving his hand out toward the room, he said, “And what does this cottage look like?”

  She swept her gaze around and giggled more. “You’re right…it’s like a hobbit hole.”

  He continued reading and she settled deeper in the cushions, observing him. He was so handsome, it almost hurt to look at him. Everything about him called to her. His face…his body…his voice. But he was so much more than just a perfect physical specimen. His friendship was reaching into the dark corners of her being, shining a light where she forgot it had once glowed. Closing her eyes, she allowed the words to swirl around her.

  “There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.”

  He stopped reading as she sat up straight, her eyes on him. Cocking his head to the side, he waited for her to speak.

  “Do you believe that?” she asked. “That sometimes what we find isn’t what we were looking for?”

  Rafe silently considered the passage for a moment, thinking of his own life. Wasn’t that why I went into modeling? Searching for something, only to find what I really needed was back home with Miss Ethel and my brothers? He looked into her f
ace, so earnestly staring at him. And what I found here? Searching for answers and finding them right here, sitting next to me.

  Nodding slowly, he replied, “Yeah. I think sometimes we do go searching but what we find is often not what we were looking for.”

  They sat quietly, both lost in their own thoughts. After a few minutes, Eleanor stood, a shy smile gracing her face. She hesitated for a few seconds before reaching out her right hand to him. “Thank you, Rafe, for a lovely evening and for…well, just thank you.”

  He took her hand in his much larger one, his eyes never leaving hers. “I should be thanking you,” he admitted. “But, then, I suppose we’ve both gained from each other.” Standing, he said, “I’ll walk you back.” Seeing her about to protest, he insisted. Offering his elbow, he grinned, “Come on.”

  She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they walked back up the hill, over the grass, fireflies dancing around, until they came to the terrace door. She hesitated as he continued to hold her hand. Looking up, she stared into his face, the faint light coming through the door casting his features with shadows. But she knew his eyes still pierced hers. Unable to move away, she stood rooted to the stone patio, her heartbeat pounding.

  Bending low, Rafe stopped a whisper away from Eleanor’s lips, giving her the opportunity to stop him, but no such halt came. “Eleanor,” he whispered, his breath warm against her face. His lips caressed hers, a hint of a kiss, but one he felt reverberate through his entire body. Bringing his hands up, he cupped her face, his fingers grazing over her neck. Feeling her tense at the touch, he deepened the kiss to get her mind off her scars, angling her head so their mouths connected fully.

  Eleanor felt the protest ready to bubble forth when Rafe’s fingers touched her scarred neck, but he slowly licked her lips and she heard a moan, seconds before realizing it was from deep inside her. His tongue slipped inside, tangling gently with hers. Her body responded, the electricity moving from her mouth to her breasts to her core. It had been years since she had been held…caressed…kissed. Gasping for air, she moved back slightly before immediately clutching his shirt, pulling him back down.

  Rafe slid one hand around her back to press her tightly to his chest, the feel of her breasts against him causing his cock to stand at attention. Not wanting to alarm her, he tried to angle his crotch away but, like a magnet, her hips followed.

  Finally, with every ounce of strength he possessed, he pulled back, almost undone by the slight mewl of discontent coming from her lips. Her eyes opened, dark and wide, as she stared up into his. Seeing a sliver of doubt creeping into their orbs, he shook his head. “Don’t go there, Eleanor. Stay with me…right here…right now. This is real. This is us.”

  Eleanor licked her kiss-swollen lips and gave a swift nod. Not knowing what this was, she was willing to find out.

  “See you tomorrow,” he promised, stepping back, the cool night air filling the space where only warmth had been.

  “Yes,” she breathed, unsure her legs would carry her inside, but knowing she needed to pull herself together. Smiling, she moved through the door, locking it behind her. As he turned and began walking back down the hill, she hastened upstairs and into the bedroom overlooking the grounds. Pulling back the draperies, she saw his shadowed form moving toward the cottage.

  Placing her heated forehead against the cool windowpane, she wondered what she was doing. He has the power to break my heart. Turning and walking back into her bedroom, she crossed the floor and headed directly into the bathroom. Staring at her reflection, she realized she did not have to count to twenty before doing it. The scars were still there. The reddened, puckered skin still covered her neck and shoulders. Stripping off her shirt and pants, she viewed the continuation of scars covering her entire right side, from the side of her breast to her stomach and hips, her leg down to her ankle. They were still as visible as always.

  But, for once, she did not stare at just the scars. Instead, what she noticed were her still tingling, kiss-swollen lips. And she smiled.

  21

  Rafe looked up, a smile on his face as Eleanor walked toward him, a tall glass of lemonade in her hand. He had been working in the rose garden. After she told him it was her mother’s favorite he wanted to restore it for her as soon as possible.

  He glanced up at the sun that had just gone behind a cloud. Her hair was not flowing over her right shoulder, but instead was pulled away from her face. Looking at her apparel, he noted the short-sleeved shirt, exposing the scarring along her neck and arm. Today was the first time she wore something so revealing and he knew it had taken a lot of courage for her to feel so exposed around him. Remembering what she said about sun exposure on her scars, concern shot through him. “Should you be out in the sun?”

  Her smile met his and she shrugged. “I won’t be out long and then I’ll go sit in the shade on the terrace and stare at the gardener working in my yard.”

  He threw his head back, belting out a laugh. Dropping his head, he leaned forward, planting a kiss on her lips before taking the glass from her hands.

  Eleanor watched Rafe take a long sip, fascinated by the way his throat worked as he swallowed. How can a swallow be sexy? Not caring about the answer, she nonetheless enjoyed the view.

  The past three days had passed in similar fashion. They had breakfast in her kitchen before he went to work. She worked on the papers until lunch, when they both met at the terrace for a simple picnic. She would spend the afternoon in the shade, occasionally joining him in the yard for short sojourns in the sunshine before moving back indoors. Dinner was in the cottage where they would finish the day, one reading to the other. Her favorite part of the day was when he walked her back to the manor, kissing her under the stars until she was wild with desire.

  She wondered if he would take it further, but so far, he seemed content to explore her lips with his arms wrapped tightly around her. She had become accustomed to his fingers trailing little patterns on her scars, to the point she no longer noticed when he was doing so.

  “Eleanor?”

  His voice jolted her from her musings. Blinking, she looked up in surprise at the huge grin on his face. “What?”

  “You just had a contented look on your face and I was hoping I had something to do with it.”

  Tapping her chin as though in great thought, she said, “Hmmm, I suppose a certain handsome man has me enthralled.”

  Laughing again, Rafe bent to kiss her, loving the way she was blooming for him. Each night when he kissed her goodnight, it was getting harder and harder to not pick her up and carry her to the large bed upstairs. But, wanting her to be completely comfortable and ready was first on his mind.

  A breeze blew her hair back from her face as she continued to smile up at him. He leaned in, kissing her lips, her smile too tempting.

  Staring into his eyes, she said, “Seriously, Rafe, you could be in a magazine with your face and body. You’re so much more handsome than most men.”

  His breath caught in his throat as the confession of his career came to the surface. But the idea of making her self-conscious halted the words. And I might not be going back to that career...so there’s no need to say anything.

  Reaching his free hand to her waist, he bent to kiss her lips. “You’re a goof and I’m sweaty. Go back to the shade, babe, and I’ll come up as soon as I get finished with the roses.”

  Her eyes dropped to the roses, their buds ready to burst forth in color. She had been certain that they were doomed for this blooming season, but he had brought them back from the dead. “I love what you’re doing here, you know. My mom would have been so happy.”

  “I’m glad I’m here too, but not just for the roses. They pale in comparison to you.”

  She grinned as she lifted on her toes to offer him another kiss before walking away. He watched her, knowing his heart had been captured.

  That night, as Rafe sat on his sofa with Eleanor curled up next to him, her head on his chest, he read from Jane Eyre, hav
ing confessed to hearing her read the first day he had been injured.

  She smiled, listening to the deep timbre of his voice, with her ear pressed closely, able to hear the reverberations of each word. She adored the classic story of love lost and love found.

  “I ask you to pass through life at my side—to be my second self, and best earthly companion.”

  At those words, Rafe stopped, his breath coming short. He listened, but it was as though Eleanor had stopped breathing as well.

  She twisted her head up to look at him, an unfathomable spark in her eyes. Finally speaking, she said, “Those words are beautiful. I think that if I was ever lucky enough to be asked to be someone’s wife, those are the words I’d want to hear.”

  Not wavering, he nodded slowly, thinking the same things. “Yeah…” he whispered, his voice hoarse to his own ears.

  The world still turned outside the cottage, but to the two inside, time slowed to a crawl as they stared into each other’s eyes. Suddenly, she reached up, grabbing the back of his head, bringing his mouth to hers.

  This was a kiss of sweet surrender, but one of all-consuming flames. Tongues tangled, noses bumped, teeth clashed. In a flurry of arms reaching for each other and fingers flying toward buttons, their lips never left each other’s.

  Rafe leaned back, just enough to see the unadulterated desire in Eleanor’s eyes. “Babe?”

  “Rafe…I need you…now. Please…”

  “You don’t have to beg,” he promised. “You never have to beg.” Standing with her in his arms, he stalked toward the bedroom, laying her on the soft comforter.

  Their lips, still desperate for each other, nipped and licked, as she slid her hands underneath his t-shirt, the skin of his back warm against her fingertips. She dug her nails in slightly, pulling him closer.