Across the River of Yesterday (7 page)

“I gather I’ve become visible again,” Ross said. “Coffee, Serena?”

“No.” Her tone was also abstracted. It shouldn’t have bothered her that Gideon was constantly relegating her to second place in his scheme of things. It shouldn’t, but it did. She had felt as if she had been flicked with the stinging tip of a
lash when he’d walked out the door. “I thought I’d go to my room. I’m sorry I was rude, Ross.” She suddenly realized she was apologizing to Gideon’s partner in crime, and scowled. “Though you both deserved a hell of a lot more than rudeness. Burning at the stake would be most appropriate.”

“Whew, how fierce we are,” he murmured. “I can’t help it if Gideon was forced to opt out of the fireworks. Spare me your wrath, Queen Eleanor.”

“And that joke is getting very old.” She turned away. “I want to talk to Dane tonight before I go to bed. Will you give me the number at the hotel?”

He nodded, took out a business card and scrawled a number on the back. “Just ask for the Royal Suite.” He grinned. “I told you we were taking good care of him.”

Serena realized that was a gross understatement when she hung up the phone in her room an hour later. Dane was not only unconcerned about having to stay in Mariba for a good deal longer. He actually sounded reluctant to leave Castellano. She supposed she should be grateful that he wasn’t depressed, but she was experiencing only frustration and exasperation. She could have used a little company worrying about their situation, dammit.

She stood up and strode across the room to the closet. She would shower and go to sleep and forget all about Dane and Gideon and the tangle she had to uncomb before she could return to her calm, controlled existence. She pulled her loose gray silk robe from the hanger and started to close the door. She froze.

It couldn’t be. She reached into the back of the
closet and brought out the white satin nightgown she had tossed carelessly on the cane chair ten years ago. It shimmered, as pristine as if it were new.

She slowly hung the nightgown back on the rod and closed the door. The gown had brought back too many memories, not of Antonio and the horror of that night, but of Gideon and the way she had felt about him. She closed her eyes as she remembered the pain she had felt as she walked down the stairs and out of his life. Lord, she didn’t want to recall the moment. Was that why he had left the blasted gown in the closet? It was a clever move and she was beginning to realize Gideon was a very clever man beneath his lazy cowboy facade. She opened her eyes, turned, and moved resolutely toward the door of the bathroom.

An hour later she had showered, had washed and blow-dried her hair, and felt a good deal more in control. She drew back the spread on the bed, plumped the pillows and then moved briskly to the window to open it wider.

Gideon was on the patio.

Serena froze. He was sitting on the rim of the mosaic-tiled fountain. He had discarded his jacket and tie and the sleeves of his ruffled dress shirt were rolled up to the elbow. The moonlight touched his hair with flecks of silver and gave his face a stark grimness. He was staring straight ahead, but she didn’t believe he was seeing anything but the pictures flashing through his mind. What was he thinking to make him look like that? What emotions were …

He lifted his head.

Serena inhaled sharply as she saw his expression. Sadness. Terrible sadness and an aching loneliness. No, he shouldn’t feel …

She turned impulsively and ran from the room and down the stairs. She had to do something. Gideon was hurting and she had to stop the pain. She
had
to stop him from hurting. It wasn’t until she was standing only a few feet away from him on the patio that she realized how instinctive had been her action. Then all objective thought was gone again as he looked up and saw her.

His dark eyes were glittering in the moonlight. “Hello. I’m sorry I had to leave you tonight. Things just don’t seem to be working out.”

She took a step closer. “What’s wrong, Gideon?”

“Death,” he said simply. “I guess that’s about the biggest wrong of all, isn’t it? It’s the one thing you can’t fix, no matter how hard you try.”

Serena felt an aching sympathy. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It was Frank. I keep telling myself he was old and sick, that he’d lived a good life these last years at least. None of it does any good.”

“Frank,” she murmured. “I guess I assumed you’d found a home for him with someone else. Ross said you did that at times.”

He shook his head. “I kept him with me wherever I went after we left Castellano. I … loved him.”

Tears burned her eyes. “I think perhaps I loved him too. He helped me so much that night.”

“Did you ever get a dog after you left me? I always wondered if you had.”

“No. Like you, I moved around a lot. It wouldn’t
have been fair to a pet. I kept my friend Elizabeth’s dog for a while. He reminded me a little of Frank.” She took a step closer. “Were you with Frank earlier this evening too?”

He nodded. “The vet thought he was out of danger, but he had a relapse. He didn’t last more than an hour after I got back to him.” He swallowed. “It hurt to watch him die.”

“But you stayed with him.”

He looked up in surprise. “Of course. Death is lonely. I think it must help to have a friend there.”

She reached out and gently touched his cheek. “Anything is better, if you have a friend there.”

He went still. “Is that an invitation?”

“I’d like to be your friend,” she said simply. “In a way, I think we’re already friends, Gideon. I can’t give you what you seem to want from me, but I can give you this. Let me help you.” She stepped into his arms as naturally as if she’d never left them one night long ago. She could feel him stiffen and then slowly relax against her.

“I’d be a fool to turn down your offer, wouldn’t I?” His arms tightened around her and his cheek pressed against her temple. “Lord, I’m hurting, Serena. You know, old Frank was a little like me. I guess that was why I grew to love him so damn much. We were both wanderers and had been through the mill. We both had our scars.”

Serena could feel a moistness on her temple and she instinctively tightened her arms about him.

“There were times when I was lonely or things weren’t going right but he was always there. He
was happy and affectionate and—” His voice broke. “—and loving.”

“You told me that once,” Serena said huskily. “You said he had toughened up, but kept the loving.”

“Yes.” He was silent a moment, just holding her. Then his arms dropped away from her and he stepped back. He reached into his back pocket and drew out his handkerchief. “I didn’t mean to drown you.” He dabbed at her temple, dampened by his tears, and then unashamedly wiped his own eyes. “But Frank deserved tears.” He stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She smiled at him. “I didn’t even lend you my shirt or make you an omelet. We’re still not even.”

“This is no contest,” Gideon said gravely. “Friendship makes no comparisons. It’s just giving and taking. Thank you for giving.”

“Thank you for taking. It was good to be needed. I don’t think anyone has ever needed me before.” She made a face. “Except Dane, and the only help he ever needs is rescue.”

“No one?” Gideon asked. “Not even your husband?”

Her expression was suddenly shuttered. “No, Antonio never needed me.” She stepped back. “I think it’s time I went to my room. Why don’t you go to bed, too?”

“Another invitation?” He held up his hand, a faint smile touching his lips. “No, I know comfort only extends so far and no further. I was joking.” He wearily rubbed the back of his neck. “I think I
will go to bed. One way and another, it’s been a hell of a day.”

“You could have eliminated one source of strain, if you hadn’t practically kidnapped me,” she said lightly. She was actually teasing about his treatment of her, she realized with astonishment. At some time on this patio tonight, anger and resentment had fled, and she wasn’t sure she could ever summon them again to use against Gideon Brandt. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to summon them. Being at peace with Gideon was filling her with a golden tranquility and warmth.

“I did what I had to do.” His gaze was running over her. “I like that silvery robe. It makes you look like a moon maiden.”

She laughed. “I thought moon maidens were probably made of green cheese too.”

He tilted his head as if he were listening to music. “Lord, that’s pretty. I’ve never heard you laugh before. I’m going to have to work on giving you more to laugh about.” He laced his fingers through hers and started across the patio toward the front door. “Maybe I could hire a resident clown, or send for a joke book or—” He broke off. “But I’ll need time to do all that.” He gazed intently at her. “Am I going to get that time, Serena? Am I going to get my week?”

How could she refuse a man who would postpone initiating a plan he’d held for ten years to comfort a dying animal? A strong man who was not ashamed to show either tears or need. How was it possible to refuse Gideon Brandt?

“I’m very much afraid you are,” she said huskily. “It’s a mistake, but I’ll give you your week. I
don’t know why. You’ve been completely autocratic and—”

“It’s no mistake.” A radiant smile lit his face. “I’ll make sure it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.” His hand tightened around her own. “Damn, I’m glad.”

She had made him happy. The knowledge sent a heady burst of exhilaration through her. He had been sad and she had given him happiness. What difference did a week make? Dane was completely happy where he was, and she had no commitments for the next few weeks. She owed Gideon far more for his past support than he had asked of her. “I’m not promising you anything more than friendship. I still think this is crazy and—”

“Hush, don’t spoil it.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the palm lingeringly. She felt a warm tingle begin to spread from her palm into her veins and then into every part of her body. “Let me be happy.”

“All right.” Her voice was breathless. The night was suddenly crackling with the same electricity that had charged the dining room earlier in the evening. She could feel her heart start to pound and the temperature seemed ten degrees warmer than it had only a moment ago.

His clasp tightened around her wrist, and she knew he had felt her betraying leap of response. “For me?” he murmured. “Let’s see what else I can …” His tongue gently stroked her palm, his thumb on her wrist monitoring her reaction. “You like that?”

She felt as if she had been jolted by lightning.
The lightest of intimacies, and yet she was trembling. “I think I’d better go upstairs now.”

“In a minute.” He moved his lips to the delicate blue veins of her wrist. His tongue moved lazily, teasingly on her flesh. “I can feel your heartbeat going crazy. You’re very easy to arouse, love. I’m so lucky.” He nipped her wrist with his teeth and she felt a jolt of heat flood her. “We’re going to be so good together.”

She hadn’t expected this, she thought wildly. One moment she was only wanting to comfort, and the next she was experiencing a sensual pull stronger than any she had ever known before. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“No, don’t start backpedaling. You made me a promise.” He was smiling again, and warmth melted the panic starting to rise within her. “And I’m holding you to it. We’ll leave for Santa Isabella tomorrow morning.”

“Santa Isabella? I thought we were going to stay here.”

He shook his head. “Santa Isbella is as much of a home as I’ve ever had. I want you to get to know it.” His lips twisted. “Besides, the atmosphere in Castellano right now isn’t conducive to relaxation and I want you mellow. Very mellow.” He tugged at a lock of her hair. “I want to hear you laugh again.” He bent quickly and placed a sun-warm kiss on her lips and then straightened. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? I’ll guarantee we’ll get better at it.” He took her hand again and they covered the remaining yards to the front door in silence.

It was only when they were going up the stairs
that he spoke again. “You’re barefoot. I didn’t notice on the patio.” He grinned. “Do you have a violent aversion to wearing shoes? Not that I object, you understand. You have very pretty feet and I like to look at them.”

“I forgot about them. I saw you on the patio and—”

“You wanted to help me,” he finished softly, his eyes very warm. “So you scurried to the rescue, bare feet and all.”

There had been a moment on the patio when she would have walked barefoot on hot coals, if it could have taken away a portion of Gideon’s pain. “As I said, I’m new at having someone need me. I reacted without thinking.”

“Instinct,” he said thoughtfully. “You came to me instinctively. Think about that tonight. You might learn something about yourself and about us, too, perhaps. I believe in instinct.” They had reached the top of the stairs and he paused to look down at her. “Instinct made me know you belonged to me that night.” He touched her cheek with a fingertip. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning, love.”

She hesitated. “Will you be all right?”

He nodded, then smiled. “You could leave your door ajar in case I get ambushed. I like the idea of your being available to hold me like you did out there by the fountain.”

“I don’t think you’ll need me. I’m not as experienced as you at shooting bushwhackers out of the saddle.” She turned away. “Goodnight.”

She could feel his gaze on her back as she walked quickly down the hall and opened the door to her
room. A moment later she was in bed, her head awhirl with a wild confusion of thoughts. Why had she committed herself? It was crazy.
She
was crazy. She had been swayed like a tree in the wind by sympathy, remembrance, and the sensuality he had evoked so effortlessly. She knew he’d had no intention of arousing her to this extent. He had just been himself, Gideon, and that had been enough. Even now, lying here in an emotional turmoil she was conscious of a nagging anxiety. Was he lying in his room across the hall unhappy and lonely again? Surely he had been joking about the possibility that he might need her to help him get through this time. Still, he hadn’t closed his door on her, when there had been a chance she might need him.