Рита Херрон – The Man From Falcon Ridge (страница 9)
He nodded. He’d seen the photos, had imprinted them in his brain since he was a kid.
“Come on.” He coaxed her forward, back through the thick pines and aspens, up the rocky hills toward Falcon Ridge. “You’re freezing, we need to get you inside.”
She stiffened. “Where are we going?”
“To my place.” He grabbed her arm again and hauled her close to him, lowering his voice. “If that hunter returns, we don’t want to be here.”
“But…”
“You’re not going back to the Hatchet House alone,” he growled. “I’ll go with you and check it out, but I need my gun.”
“You have a gun?”
He nodded, wondering at the streak of fear that darted into her eyes. “It’s for protection. You should get one, too.”
Her breath glowed white in the air as she nodded and stumbled forward, trying to keep up with him. He slowed his pace to accommodate her, pushing the loose branches and bramble out of the way so they wouldn’t scratch her delicate face as they threaded their way back up the mountain.
He’d never brought a woman to Falcon Ridge before, never shown one his home. He wondered what she’d think of it.
A few minutes later, they stepped onto the portico of the stone structure, and he opened the massive front door and ushered her inside. She was trembling, the temperature outside having dropped ten degrees in the last hour. The frightening ordeal had obviously drained her, because her shoulders were beginning to slump, and her flushed face paled with exhaustion.
“Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll fix you something hot to drink.”
She scanned the inside of the foyer, the ten-foot ceilings and dusty old paintings. He tried to see the monastery-type house through her eyes. His mother had hated the desolate location, had claimed the stone walls and dark paneled interior shrouded any light and warmth that might filter through the mass of trees surrounding the five-thousand-foot structure. He opened his mouth to explain that his parents had inherited the place, but he refrained, avoiding the subject of his family.
He reached for her arm to guide her to the kitchen’s woodstove, but she squared her shoulders and resisted.
“I’m not going to attack you,” he said, irritated that she was afraid of him. She’d felt his erection, knew he wanted her.
The realization put him on the defensive. He didn’t like this craving that happened when he was around her. And he especially didn’t like the fact that she didn’t reciprocate the feeling.
Was she afraid of all men or just him?
Had another man taken advantage of her?
He swallowed hard, the mere idea making his blood run hot. But he realized it was true. The bruises on her cheek and neck the first time he’d seen her had come from a man’s hands.
A man she had probably trusted.
HAILEY DIDN’T TRUST THIS MAN, although she had no idea why. He had saved her life. If he’d wanted to kill her or hurt her, he could have done so by now.
But he hadn’t. He’d offered to help her renovate her house. He’d escorted her into town. And now he’d rescued her from an attacker, and saved her from plunging over a cliff.
Who had been in the house? Thad maybe? Or someone who didn’t want her living in the Lyle house?
Rex moved through the doorway, obviously giving her space. Keeping her distance, she followed. The finely woven, handmade dream catchers dangling in the window seemed at odds with the masculine stone structure.
“Coffee, hot chocolate or tea?” he asked once they were in the rustic kitchen. Copper pots hung above a center work island, the stove encased in a brick arch. Natural light bled through a bay window that overlooked the woods and mountains above, looking majestic and giving the room an airier feel than the foyer. A small garden area surrounded a terrace, and beyond it, she noticed several large birdcages. She counted three that were empty. The fourth one was draped in a cloth.
“Hailey?”
She tensed, her mind in a tailspin, distrusting everything. “Whatever you’re making.”
He reached for the coffeepot, filled it with water and added coffee, then pressed the on button. The slow drip splintered the awkward silence.
“You can heat your hands by the woodstove.” He retrieved two thick ceramic mugs from the cabinet, found the sugar and cream set and put it on the scarred plank table.
She moved slowly to the stove, thrusting her hands above the steel frame, relief echoing in her sigh as heat drew the sting from her numb fingers. He filled the mugs, then gestured toward the sugar. She nodded.
He added sugar, then handed her the cup, their fingers brushing. His hot look unnerved her, enticed her to forget the reasons she needed to keep her distance. For once, she ached to bury herself in a man’s arms and let him take care of her.
“I like the dream catchers,” Hailey said. “Did you get them around here?”
“My mother collects them,” Rex said. “She thinks they bring good luck and ward off bad dreams.”
Hailey gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I understand. Bad dreams, sometimes they seem so real.”
“Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. Her dreams were her own demons. “What are the cages for?”
He glanced out the window, then turned to her, his expression wary. “I rescue injured birds of prey. My brothers and I train them.”
“You release them back into the wild?”
He nodded. “When we can.”
She relaxed slightly. Any man who rescued injured animals had to be more human than Thad. Then again, she’d been wrong before.
“Maybe I should call the police about the threat?” he suggested.
She immediately stiffened, her fleeting moment of safety shattered. Thad had power, influential friends. “No.”
His black eyebrow shot up. “You don’t want to report an intruder and the threatening note?”
She shook her head. “No, not yet.” She sipped the coffee, grateful he’d made it strong. “What if it was just a prank? Maybe kids…”
Although her gut instincts whispered that the threat had been real.
Someone had snuck into her house while she was gone and planted the picture to frighten her off. Someone who’d chased her into the woods and wanted her out of the Lyle house.
What would he do if she didn’t heed his warning?
Chapter Five
Hailey’s show of courage contrasted sharply with the fear in her big brown eyes. Why didn’t she want him to call the police? Was he right in wondering if she was in trouble with the law?
Or could a police officer have something to do with her fear of men?
God knows, they’d done a number on his father when he’d first been convicted. Going into jail as a child killer had trigged the worst in guards and other prisoners. Of course, some of them just enjoyed wielding their power on the weaker.
And Hailey was much more vulnerable than his dad. She’d obviously encountered violence before and still wore the bruises.
“Thanks for the coffee, Rex.” She placed the empty cup in the sink. “I should go back now. Do you mind driving me?”
He squared his shoulders, his libido stirring again as his gaze zeroed in on the rose-petal sweetness of her parted lips. Struggling for control, he dragged his eyes from her mouth, but they fell to the soft swell of her breasts and a hot streak of desire surged inside him. Worse, her chest rose with uneven breaths, her bravado drumming up admiration. A few minutes earlier she’d fled in terror, yet now she was ready to face whatever had frightened her.
Because she didn’t want to be alone with him?
Was he that damn scary?
“Sure.” He strode to the corner, removed his SIG Sauer from the cabinet and tucked it into his belt. He wanted to check out the items, too, see if they might help him find the real killer. “Let’s go.”
She bit down on her lip, then nodded, hugging her arms around her to ward off the cold as he led her back through the foyer. He stopped at the door, yanked his bomber jacket from the closet and handed it to her. “Put this on. It’ll keep you warm.”
Hailey hesitated, then shrugged into the worn, warm leather. The jacket nearly swallowed her whole, making her appear small and so damn sensual he nearly reached out to tug the coat around her. An image of her alone at the Hatchet House rose to taunt him, his desires mingling with protective instincts again. Another vision coasted on its tail—Hailey in his king-size four-poster bed, his down comforter brushing her nakedness while he trailed kisses along the pale skin of her neck.
“Maybe you should stay here or in town tonight.”
Her eyes flashed with wariness, and he realized his gruff voice had sounded suggestive.
“I saved for a long time to buy a house,” she said, her tone stronger now. “I refuse to let anyone run me off.”
He read fear in her eyes, but determination and strength darkened her irises, too. Damn, he didn’t want to like her. Even more unsettling, he sensed his own loneliness mirrored in her words. She’d run here to find solace and now someone had messed with her security, so she was fighting back.
His mother had let the locals run them off from Falcon Ridge years ago. It had taken growing up for him to have the courage to confront the people who’d shunned his family.