Chapter 8 #2
"So you hoped you'd lose your assailant?" She'd never actually used the word assailant in conversation before. It made her feel queasy to think that someone had actually been trying to kill him.
"Right, or least keep him well behind me. Unfortunately, I hadn't gambled on how badly I was hurt. It was slow going and I could hear him behind me. I knew it wouldn't be long before he caught up with me. So, finally, I jumped off Roscoe."
"Roscoe?"
"My horse." He shrugged. "I figured the man trailing me would follow Roscoe back down the mountain. Or see that his saddle was empty and assume I was dead."
Cara shivered again.
"I knew I was close to the old tunnel, and if I could just make it there, I was pretty certain, he wouldn't be able to find me even if he came back. So I waited until I heard him go after Roscoe, and then managed to crawl inside. You pretty much know the rest."
She nodded, her teeth worrying the soft inside of her lower lip. "And you don't have any idea who's trying to kill you?"
"None at all. Could have been a road agent. I can't think of any enemies. Truth of it is, there's no way to know—especially now." He grimaced, and again she realized just how difficult this must be for him.
"Your family must be worried sick."
"I'm not certain my father will be sober enough to know I'm missing." Sharp-edged bitterness colored his voice.
"But your brother?"
"He'll think I'm dead."
"Maybe not. Maybe…" she trailed off, wishing she knew what to say.
He shook his head. "It's rough out there, and I was supposed to be back by nightfall. Patrick knows I'd never break my word—unless I had no choice."
"Well, maybe there's some way to get you back." She was surprised how much the thought upset her. She'd just found him. The idea of letting him vanish from her life again, was not appealing, but she had to think of his needs first.
"How?" The single word sounded so hopeless it brought tears to her eyes. "Cara, we don't even know for certain how I got here."
She swallowed her emotions. This was not the time. She had to be strong, to think clearly. "Well, we can be fairly sure it has to do with the mine tunnel where you found me."
"True, but it has to be something more than that. We've both been in it numerous times and not a damn thing has happened." There was an edge to his voice, a note of desperation.
She reached for his hand. "We've just got to think it through. The two times something did happen we were together."
"True."
Cara recognized the emotions she saw swirling in the blue depths of his eyes and she was fairly certain her own reflected his turmoil. She took a deep breath. "Okay, so we know there is some relationship between you and me and the tunnel. Is there anything else?"
"There has to be, but damned if I know what. Maybe it's just coincidence. Maybe those were the only times we were actually in the tunnel at the same time."
Cara shook her head, stroking the smooth silver of her pendant. "No, it has to be more than that because when you found me, I was outside the mine. Remember?"
"You're right." He frowned. "Maybe it's just proximity."
"Maybe." A thought occurred to her. "Or maybe it has to do with need."
He shot her a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"
She concentrated on putting her thoughts into words. "When you found me, I had just survived the car wreck that killed my parents. I was disoriented and lost in my grief. I had no coat and no idea I was in the middle of a blizzard. Without you, I wouldn't have survived on that mountain."
He cocked his head to one side, understanding spreading across his face. "And I would definitely have died if you hadn't found me in the tunnel."
"Got it in one." She smiled at him as if he were a prize pupil.
"So you're thinking that it's adversity that brings us together?"
She blew out a breath. "I don't know what I'm saying, really. I just know that when I needed you, you were there. And then, after all this time, despite the fact that I no longer—" She stopped, embarrassed at the direction her thoughts had taken her.
"After you no longer believed I existed."
She nodded miserably.
"Cara, it's all right. I'm not sure that I'd have reacted any differently given the circumstances."
She shot him a tremulous smile, grateful for his support. "Anyway, after all this time, the bottom line is when you needed me I was there. All I'm saying is that there's definitely a powerful connection between us."
"I can't say that I disagree with that." His slow smile made her bones dissolve like a spoonful of sugar in hot tea. She barely knew him, but his power over her hadn't lessened in the nine years since their first encounter.
If anything, it was stronger, pulling at her like a magnet. She wanted to crawl inside him, to find shelter in his steely strength. She wanted… well she couldn't put a polite name to that . She felt the heat of a blush staining her cheeks.
"What about you?" he asked.
"What about me what?"
The smile broadened, telling her he had correctly determined the train of her thoughts. "Surely after all this time there's someone in your life. Nick?" He sobered, his face tightening at the thought of her recent guest.
"No, not Nick."
"Well there must be somebody."
"No. Nothing serious anyway. It costs too much to give your heart, Michael. That's a lesson I've learned very well. Promises are made to be broken. First with my parents, then with you…" She trailed off, embarrassed.
"I'm real, Cara." The fire in his eyes sent a shiver of desire coursing through her.
"I had no way of knowing that. And it just all hurt so badly. But gradually, in time, I began to heal, and I threw myself into my art. Painting was everything for me. Emotional involvement at a risk-free level." She shrugged, turning away from him. "Only there's no such thing."
"What happened?" Michael's voice was gentle.
"I got an offer to work in New York with a painter named Adrian DeBeck.
Grandfather wanted me to stay in Colorado.
Attend university. I was young and stupid and certain that I knew what was best for me.
He just wanted me to be nearby. We quarreled.
" She paused, groping for words. Michael stroked her palm, the gesture at once soothing and stimulating.
She looked up to meet his eyes and was amazed at the compassion there.
"I walked away without looking back. And a year later he was dead.
" She tried to stop the tears, but they seemed to have a will of their own.
"He gave me everything and I walked away without even saying thank you.
Three months after that, I found out that Adrian had been selling my paintings as his own.
That he'd…that he'd been using me for months. So, in the end, Grandfather was right."
The sympathy in his eyes was hard to bear. "If we could only see the future, we'd all handle things differently."
She nodded, wiping angrily at her tears. "I'm okay. I don't know why I told you all of that. It's just that there isn't anyone in my life. It hurts too much when you lose them."
"Not everyone leaves, Cara." His gaze met hers, his eyes intense.
She looked away, glancing at the clock, trying to ignore the tangled emotions building inside her. "It's late. We've been talking for hours. I shouldn't have let you go this long without a rest and something to eat." She eyed him guiltily, knowing she was babbling.
"And we need to change your bandage. Maybe you could start with a shower." That always made her feel better when she was sick. Not that he was sick exactly. In fact, at the moment, he looked remarkably healthy. Oh, Lord. She stood up, fidgeting with the edge of her shirt.
He stood, too, catching her restless fingers between his palms as he pulled her closer.
She wanted him so badly she could actually feel it burning in her gut, but she was also aware that her batting average with men was zero.
What if she let him down? Or worse, what if he only wanted her for now.
She wasn't sure she could give herself to this man without knowing it was forever.
Her brain reiterated all these thoughts as her body melded to his. His heat seared through her and she thought she might not survive the sheer joy of touching him. She tipped back her head and met the question in his blue-black gaze.
With an almost super human effort, she pushed away, her head winning over her mutinous body by a nose. She shuddered as they separated, the ache inside shifting from her gut to her heart.
She pasted on what she hoped was a carefree smile and tried to ignore the flash of hurt in his eyes. "Come on, I'll show you how to work the shower."
She turned away, trying to keep her emotions in check.
Michael Macpherson wasn't forever—couldn't be forever.