The Complete Mackenzies Collection Read online

  “I had to come home,” Mary explained.

  “I would have brought you.”

  “I know.”

  He sat down at the table beside her and took her cold, tightly clasped hands in his. She looked at him steadily, and his heart clenched like a fist in his chest.

  He would have given anything never to have seen that look in her eyes.

  She had always been so indomitable, with her “damn the torpedoes” spirit. She was slight and delicately made, but in her own eyes she had been invincible. Because the very idea of defeat was foreign to her, she had blithely moved through life arranging it to suit herself and accepted it as only natural that shopkeepers quaked before her wagging finger. That attitude had sometimes irritated, but more often entranced, him. The kitten thought herself a tiger, and because she acted like a tiger, other people had given way.

  She was no longer indomitable. A horrible vulnerability was in her eyes, and he knew she would never forget the moments when she had been helpless. That scum had hurt her, humiliated her, literally ground her into the dirt.

  “Do you know what really horrified me?” she asked after a long silence.

  “What?”

  “That I wanted the first time to be with you, and he was going to—” She stopped abruptly, unable to finish.

  “But he didn’t.”

  “No. He pulled up my skirt and pushed against me, and he was tearing my clothes when Clay—I think Clay shouted. He might have fired a shot. I remember hearing a roaring sound, but I thought it was thunder.”

  Her flat little monotone bothered him, and he realized she was still in shock. “I won’t let him get near you again. I give you my word.”

  She nodded, then closed her eyes.

  “You’re going to take a shower,” Wolf said, urging her to her feet. “A long, warm shower, and while you’re taking it, I’ll fix something for you to eat. What would you like?”

  She tried to think of something, but even the thought of food was repugnant. “Just tea.”

  He walked upstairs with her; she was steady, but the steadiness seemed fragile, as if she were barely holding herself under control. He wished that she would cry, or yell, anything that would break the tension encasing her.

  “I’ll just get my nightgown. You don’t mind if I get my nightgown, do you?” She looked anxious, as if afraid she was being too troublesome.

  “No.” He started to reach out and touch her, to slide his arm around her waist, but dropped his hand before contact was made. She might not want anyone to touch her. A sick feeling grew in him as he realized she might find his, and any other man’s, touch disgusting now.

  Mary got her nightgown and stood docilely in the old-fashioned bathroom while Wolf adjusted the water. “I’ll be downstairs,” he said as he straightened and stepped back. “Leave the door unlocked.”

  “Why?” Her eyes were big and solemn.

  “In case you faint, or need me.”

  “I won’t faint.”

  He smiled a little. No, Miss Mary Elizabeth Potter wouldn’t faint; she wouldn’t allow herself to be so weak. Maybe it wasn’t tension holding her so straight; it might be the iron in her backbone.

  He knew he wouldn’t be able to coax her to eat much, if anything, but he heated a can of soup anyway. His timing was perfect; the soup had just boiled and the tea finished steeping when Mary entered the kitchen.

  She hadn’t thought to put on a robe; she wore only the nightgown, a plain white cotton eyelet garment. Wolf felt himself begin to sweat, because as demure as the nightgown was, he could still see the darkness of her nipples through the fabric. He swore silently as she sat down at the table like an obedient child; now wasn’t the time for lust. But telling himself that didn’t stop it; he wanted her, under any circumstances.

  She ate the soup mechanically, without protest, and drank the tea, then thanked him for making it. Wolf cleared the table and washed up the few dishes; when he turned, Mary was still sitting at the table, her hands folded and her eyes staring at nothing. He froze briefly and muttered a curse. He couldn’t bear it another minute. Swiftly he lifted her out of the chair and sat down in it, then settled her on his lap.

  She was stiff in his arms for a moment; then a sigh filtered between her lips as she relaxed against his chest. “I was so frightened,” she whispered.

  “I know, honey.”

  “How can you know? You’re a man.” She sounded faintly truculent.

  “Yeah, but I was in prison, remember?” He wondered if she would know what he was talking about, and he saw her brow furrow as she thought.

  Then she said, “Oh.” She began scowling fiercely. “If anyone hurt you—” she began.

  “Hold it! No, I wasn’t attacked. I’m good at fighting, and everyone knew it.” He didn’t tell her how he’d established a reputation for himself. “But it happened to other prisoners, and I knew it could happen to me, so I was always on guard.” He’d slept only in light naps, with a knife made from a sharpened spoon always in his hand; his cell had hidden a variety of weapons, a lot of which the guards had seen and not recognized for what they were. It would have taken another LRRP to have seen some of the things he’d done and the weapons he’d carried. Yeah, he’d been on guard.

  “I’m glad,” she said, then suddenly bent her head against his throat and began to cry. Wolf held her tightly, his fingers laced through her hair to press against her skull and hold her to him. Her soft, slender body shook with sobs as she wound her arms around his neck. She didn’t say anything else, and neither did he, but they didn’t need words.

  He cradled her until finally she sniffed and observed dazedly, “I need to blow my nose.”

  He stretched to reach the napkin holder and plucked a napkin from it to place in her hands. Mary blew her nose in a very ladylike manner, then sat still, searching in her depths for the best way to handle what had happened. She knew it could have been much worse, but it had been bad enough. Only one thought surfaced: she didn’t want to be alone tonight. She hadn’t been able to tolerate the women fussing around her, but if Wolf would just stay with her, she’d be all right.

  She looked up at him. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

  Every muscle in his big body tensed, but there was no way he could deny her. “You know I will. I’ll sleep on the—”

  “No. I mean—if you could sleep with me tonight, and hold me so I won’t be alone, just for tonight, I think I’ll be all right tomorrow.”

  He hoped it would be that easy for her, but he doubted it. The memories would linger on, springing out from dark corners to catch her when she least expected it. Until the day she died, she would never entirely forget, and for that he wanted to catch her assailant and break the guy’s neck. Literally.

  “I’ll call Joe and let him know where I am,” he said, and lifted her from his lap.

  It was still early, but her eyelids were drooping, and after he called Joe he decided there was no point in putting it off. She needed to be in bed.

  He turned out the lights and put his arm around her as they climbed the narrow stairs together. Her flesh was warm and resilient beneath the thin cotton, and the feel of her made his heart begin a slow, heavy beat. His jaw clenched as blood throbbed through his body, pooling in his groin. He was in for a miserable night, and he knew it.

  Her bedroom was so old-fashioned it looked turn-of-the-century, but he hadn’t expected anything else. The delicate lilac smell he associated with Mary was stronger up here. The ache in his loins intensified.

  “I hope the bed is big enough for you,” she said, worrying as she eyed the double bed.

  “It’ll do.” It wasn’t big enough, but it would do. He’d have to spend the night curled around her. Her bottom would be nestled against him, and he would quietly go insane. Suddenly he didn’t know if he could do it, if he could lie with her all night and not take her. No matter what his mind said, his body knew exactly what it wanted; he was already so hard it was all he could do to