Chapter 4
Casey roused from a restless sleep. Disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings, it took a few moments for reality to return.
Someone moaned. Her first thought was that Ryder could be sick.
Quietly, she crawled out of bed and tiptoed to the door, aware that he’d made his bed in the middle of the living room floor.
The moan came again, only this time, louder.
When she’d seen him last, he’d been unfolding a sleeping bag. But this was frightening. She didn’t know what to make of it. What if he was hurt, or sick?
Just as she turned the doorknob, something crashed to the floor. An image of intruders made her hesitate, but only for a moment.
The door opened inward on well-oiled hinges.
She peered into the living room, searching the shadows to make certain she and Ryder were still alone.
The outer door was shut, as were the windows.
As she listened, the hum of the central air-conditioning unit kicked on, changing the texture of the night.
She took a step forward, then another, then another until she was behind the sofa and peering over it.
Ryder was stretched out in his sleeping bag there on the floor. Lying half in and half out of the faint glow from the security lights outside, he seemed more shadow than substance.
And while she was watching, he jerked and then moaned, throwing one arm over his eyes, as if warding off some unseen blow.
This explained the sounds that had wakened her.
Ryder appeared to be dreaming. She moved closer, leaning over the sofa for a better view.
And as she did, accidentally scooted it with the force of her body.
The wooden legs screeched across the vinyl flooring like chalk on a blackboard.
The sound was enough to wake the dead… and Ryder.
He came up and out of his sleeping bag and before Casey could react, he had grabbed her by the throat, and pinned her to the wall.
His face and body were in darkness, but there was enough light for her to know to be afraid.
The look in his eyes was grim, and the grip he had around her throat was all but deadly.
She grabbed at his wrists before his grip tightened further.
“Ryder…Ryder, it’s me.”
“Oh, my God!” He jerked, moving his hand from her throat to the side of her face in a quick gesture of assurance. “Dammit, Casey, I’m sorry, but you startled me.”
Casey closed her eyes as her legs went weak.
She rubbed at the tightness in her throat where his fingers had been. “It’s okay. It was partly my fault for sneaking up on you like that.”
Remorse shafted through him as he saw her fingering her throat. Dammit, he’d hurt her. He caught her hand, and then the moment they touched, wished that he’d kept his hands to himself. She was too close and too tempting.
Her focus suddenly shifted from her throat to him. They were face-to-face—body to body, and only inches from each other’s lips.
Breath caught. Hearts stopped. First hers, then his.
She swallowed. “You were having a bad dream.”
He inhaled slowly then spoke. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”
Once again, she was struck by the size of him, of the breadth of his shoulders blocking out the light coming through the windows behind him.
“It’s okay. It was partly my fault,” she said.
She moved her hand and accidentally brushed the surface of his chest. His skin felt combustible. Muscles tensed beneath her fingertips and she jerked back her hand.
When he took a deep breath, she looked up. His eyes were glittering and there was a faint sheen of perspiration on his body. At that moment, she remembered what she was wearing, and realized what he was not.
He slept in the buff.
Her gown was short and sheer.
Seduction had been the last thing on her mind when she’d bought it, but from the way Ryder was staring at her now, it wasn’t far from his.
She could almost hear what he was thinking.
He was her husband. This was their first night alone.
But from her standpoint, what he was so obviously thinking could not—must not—happen.
Ryder was in shock. To wake up from the horror of reliving the crash that had killed his father to find a beautiful, half dressed woman within reach made him want.
He wanted to make love. He wanted to feel the softness of a woman’s body—a woman’s lips.
To get lost in that certain rapture. To celebrate life because he couldn’t forget death.
That’s what he wanted. But it wasn’t going to happen, and because he knew it, his voice was harsh and angry.
“Go back to bed.”
She tried to explain. “Look, I didn’t mean to—”
He pinned her against the wall with a hand on either side of her head and leaned down, so close to her that his whisper was as loud as a shout.
“Either get the hell out of my sight or take off your clothes.”
Casey bolted for the bedroom, slamming the door behind her and then leaning against it, as if the weight of her body might add strength to the flimsy barrier that stood between them.
For several interminable seconds she stood without moving, listening for the sound of footsteps. When all she heard were a few muffled curses and then the sound of a slamming door, she relaxed and then panicked. What if he was leaving for good?
She opened the door with a jerk, but when she realized all of his things were still inside, she shut it again. She crawled into bed and pulled up the covers, again, erecting another puny barrier between them.
In spite of the cool air circulating throughout the room, it seemed stifling. And while she waited anxiously for him to return, she considered their temporary bonds.
Ryder Justice had promised to love and honor her, to take care of her in sickness and in health.
She didn’t know about the loving, but some part of her trusted that he wouldn’t lie.
He’d said he would stay the year and she believed him.
It was that fact alone that gave her ease enough to go back to sleep.
When she woke again, the alarm on the bedside table was going off, and water was running in the shower.
* * *
Casey’s first impulse was fear. He’d come into her room and she’d never known.
Her second was picturing what he was doing.
Remembering the condition in which he’d emerged last night, she jumped out of bed, grabbing for her robe and slippers as she ran a hasty brush through the tangles in her hair.
This time when he came out of the shower, she had no intention of being anywhere in sight.
When she exited the apartment, she stood for a moment on the landing, savoring the Mississippi morning.
It was going to be another hot one, she could tell.
The thought of freshly brewed coffee and some of Tilly’s hot biscuits and jelly drew her down the stairs with haste, across the courtyard, in the back door of the mansion, and into the kitchen.
“Something smells good,” she said.
The woman standing at the stove turned in quick surprise. There was a faint flush from the heat of the oven staining her face and a warning in her eyes.
“Casey Dee, you scared me half to death.”
“I’m sorry,” Casey said, and went for her good-morning hug.
Tilly smoothed and fussed at the long hair hanging down Casey’s back, then hugged her tightly to soften the accusation in her words. “Well now, girl, what are you doing over here without your man?”
She sighed. If only things were as simple now as they’d been back when she was a child.
“He’s in the shower.” Casey slumped in a chair with a pout. “Oh, Tilly, Delaney has made such a mess out of my life.”
“No, ma’am. Delaney didn’t do it, you did. He just went and made some silly rule, and as always, you’re still running along behind him, trying to make everything right.”
Casey was speechless. This wasn’t the sympathy she’d been wanting. She tried to glare, but it just wasn’t possible. Not at Tilly. And then she sighed. Tilly always gave her sympathy, but where Casey wanted it or not, it also came with the truth.
“So, he started it,” Casey said, and managed to grin.
“And you sure did finish it, didn’t you, girl? The very idea! Going down to the flatlands to find yourself a man.”
Casey’s eyebrows rose. “How did you know?”
Tilly snorted delicately and returned to stirring the eggs she’d been cooking. “I know, ‘cause you’re my baby,” she said softly. “I know ’cause I make it my business to know.”
The air in Casey’s throat became too thick to breathe. She stood and slipped her arms around Tilly’s waist, then laid her cheek in the middle of her back, relishing the familiarity of freshly ironed fabric and a steady heartbeat.
“And I thank God that you care,” Casey said softly. “You and Joshua are all the family I have left.”
Tilly set the skillet off the fire and turned until she and Casey were eye to eye. “No, girl, you’re wrong. You’ve got yourself a husband now.”
Casey’s laugh was brittle. “I don’t have a husband. I have a stranger for a year.”
Tilly took her by the shoulders and shook her. “What you have is a chance. Now make the most of it.” Before Casey could argue further, Tilly waved her away. “Go tell your man my biscuits are about ready to come out of the oven. By the time you two get back, bacon and eggs will be ready, too.”
“But I don’t know if he likes…”
Tilly’s stare never wavered. “Then don’t you think it’s about time you found out?”
Casey exited the kitchen with as much grace as she could muster.
After her and Ryder’s encounter last night, she was almost afraid to face him.
The tail of her robe was dragging as she walked up the stairs.
When she stumbled and came close to falling, she picked it up and walked the rest of the way with the hem held above her ankles.