Betrayed (24 page)

Your coos and giggles

won't touch our ears,

but we loved you just the same.

The twinkle in your little eyes,

was not for us to see;

we longed to hold you in our arms,

but it never came to be.

God now holds your tiny hand,

He's given you a name;

your coos and giggles grace Heaven's ears,

but we'll miss you just the same.

The twinkle in your little eyes,

now lights the sky at night.

God holds you close in loving arms,

you're always in His sight.

A tiny hand we'll never hold,

we have no reason why;

but we'll always hold you in our hearts,

even though we said good-bye.

Lance felt a tug on his heart as Brook read the words. Not so long ago, he'd hoped to be a father. Fate had stepped in and stolen the dream from him, too. Brook's sorrow brought his to the surface. He wanted to hold her but she sat so still he was afraid to touch her. He waited.

“After the ritual with the book I felt better. It was like I had managed to find some closure. But then, I went home. There was the nursery door, still unopened, still haunting me. Clark made the decision that brought me some true peace. He sold our house and we moved.”

Her eyes held a faraway look. “You wouldn’t believe the difference between the two houses. Our first home was an old Victorian, not Clark’s choice but one he went along with to make me happy. I loved that house; it was so comfortable with the hardwood floors, area rugs, and old furniture. When we moved we entered the modern world; glass and chrome fills the house. The new house has never felt like mine; it’s Clark's through and through.” She smiled up into Lance’s eyes. “I feel more at home here in this cabin than I have ever felt there.”

Lance beamed. “It
is
nice here, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Brook agreed. “Comfortable, safe, and right in the middle of some of the most beautiful scenery on earth. Of course, I may be a bit prejudiced because I also associate this house with my rescue and the man who saved my life.”

Her eyes held such frank admiration that Lance had to look away. His heart started a slow but heavy thumping under her gaze and warmth stole over him. If he didn’t reign in these feelings she inspired, he might find himself acting upon them. He didn’t want to take the chance of scaring Brook away from him entirely and lose the friendship they had cultivated. Brook noticed Lance’s discomfort and changed the subject. “As much as I love the cabin, I have to admit I have cabin fever. Do you think I could go out with you when you do your chores?”

“That’d be great,” Lance said and then stared at Brook’s feet. “We’ll have to find something for you to wear besides the moccasins; they’d be soaked through in a few minutes.” He contemplated the situation and then said, “Come with me.”

Brook followed him to his bedroom where he picked up several pairs of boots, discarding one pair after another. Finally, he selected a pair and said, “These are snug on me. I know they’ll be way too large for you, but maybe with several pairs of socks you can use them.”

Brook ended up using four pairs of socks and the boots were still loose, but they would protect her feet from the snow. Now all she needed was a coat and gloves and she’d be ready to tackle the outside.

Lance bundled her up in extra clothing and one of his coats. His clothes were so big on her, it bordered on ludicrous. She looked like a child dressed in grownup clothing, and he couldn’t help but grin. Unaware of her comical appearance, Brook smiled back and Lance’s heart did a small flip. He led the way and they tromped outside.

As Lance went about his chores, Brook breathed in the crisp cold air and let her eyes wander over the snow-covered trees. The peaks in the distance were veiled in ragged gray clouds, and the land seemed to sleep under its blanket of white. She felt renewed.

“Hey!” Lance pointed toward the outer boundary. “The wild herd makes its appearance. Want to feed them?”

Brook looked at the small group of goats gathered nervously nearby.

“Sure,” she said.

“Okay, don’t make any quick moves. I’ll get you some hay and you can start tossing it to them. Once they get to know you, they’ll be a lot more trusting.” He ducked into the other side of the shed and came back with a wedge of tightly packed hay. She took it from him and began tearing small clumps from it and tossing them away from her. Timidly, first one goat and then another approached, grabbed a bite, and backed off. Watching her with their peculiar eyes, they chewed thoughtfully.

Gilbert walked boldly up to Brook and nabbed a healthy bite. She allowed Brook to pat her shoulder. Gilbert stood unafraid next to Brook and the other goats became less wary and approached her. She could hardly tear a piece away before it was snatched from her hand.

Things were going so well, Brook decided to pet one of the wild goats. The minute she did, however, it panicked and ran. The other goats followed, disappearing into the trees. Gilbert stood with a placid expression on her face and watched them go.

“I scared them off,” Brook said, disappointed.

“They’ll be back. Not to worry,” Lance told her and set about his chores. Brook walked around the area, looking at each small outbuilding and admiring the outside of the cabin. She brushed the snow off a stump and sat down to watch Lance work.

Lance was grappling with a loose section of fence when he felt a thud against his insulated hood.

“Oh, no,” he said, turning slowly. “You did
not
just throw a snowball at me.”

Brooklyn stared innocently into the distance, as if studying the sky. She seemed not to hear him. Lance shrugged and returned to his task. Perhaps some snow had broken away from the branches above him and fallen. A minute later, another wad of snow hit the back of his head. This time, when he turned, he caught Brook’s mischievous look and the fight was on.

Lance was surprised at the accuracy of her aim. She nailed him a number of times and ducked several of his return volleys.

“Years in Little League,” she called with a laugh, explaining her proficiency. She did a bob and weave before flinging another snowball his way.

He marched over to her, his hands full of snow. She tried to run, but with the ungainly boots hampering her efforts, she lost her footing in a deep drift. Lance easily caught up with her and dumped the snow over her head. He smirked. “Revenge is best served cold,” he said over her giggles. He held out a hand to help her up. With unexpected strength, she pulled instead and he tumbled into the drift with her. She rubbed handfuls of snow into his face, squealing with delight at his surprised expression.

Grabbing her hands, he gently held her arms down. Now he was lying partially on top of her, their faces close. They were winded from laughter and exertion as their gazes met and held.

Seconds before their lips joined, they sensed the impending kiss, the magnetism of their feelings for each other drawing them together at last. The world seemed to halt, all sounds ceased in that moment. Lance started to pull away, but Brook strained upward to continue the contact, and he gave in to the urgency. Tenderly, they clung to each other in the snow, their passion warming them.
The kiss
. It was soft, tender, achingly sweet, soul-rocking, sultry as a delta night, and breathless as the first hush of dawn. All at the same time. When they parted, Lance stared into Brook’s face, noting the flush on her cheeks, the softness in her eyes. He moaned and went in for a second time, and she responded under his lips.

“Sweet Brooklyn,” he murmured against her mouth and laid his cheek against hers. She placed her gloved hands on either side of his face and turned his lips back to hers. Had Gilbert not chosen that exact moment to nibble on Lance’s hood, they might have gone on kissing. But Gilbert was persistent and kept tugging. Lance tried to swat her away, but to no avail.

Brook giggled under him and he laughed.

“I think she’s jealous. She wants some attention,” he said as he pulled Brook to her feet.

“Well, I don’t blame her,” Brook said. “I needed a little attention myself.”

They brushed the snow off their clothes and headed for the cabin, Gilbert following closely. Lance escorted Brook to the door.

“Let me tend to her and I’ll be right in.” He kissed Brook tenderly before stepping away.

Brook had already changed into dry clothes and stoked the fire by the time Lance entered the cabin. He stood next to her near the flames, but the heat she felt was internal and it was coming from her feelings for him.

“I’m going to change,” he said, his voice soft with passion. He placed his hand on her shoulder in a light caress as he moved to the bedroom. After he had gone, she hugged herself and gave in to the feelings that flooded her, feelings she hadn’t been sure she could ever have again. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

Chapter 42

That night, Brook lay awake in her lonely bed, thinking about Lance and soul searching. Reaching a decision, she tiptoed to the blanket covering Lance’s bedroom doorway wearing only a shirt. Her pulse raced as she contemplated her next move. She hesitated a moment before pulling the curtain aside. Lance lay in bed, propped on his pillow, reading. He looked up as she entered and slowly laid the book on the nightstand, never taking his eyes from Brook.

 “Mind if I join you?” Her tone was playful, yet provocative.

“I was hoping you would,” he admitted, pulling the covers aside so she could lie next to him. His heart thudded as he looked up at her. She slid out of her shirt as she entered his bed, feeling Lance’s eyes feast on her naked body.

He threw the blankets over them both, and pulled her close. Lance reveled in the feel of her; her warm silky skin, her soft curves. He ran his hands down her sides, over her hips. She positioned herself on top of him and lowered her mouth to his. Her lips parted and she sought his tongue with hers, tasting him lightly, as if savoring a new and delightful delicacy. His response was immediate, stunning in its intensity. He cupped her face tenderly and deepened their contact, consumed by need.

“Lance,” she whispered between kisses. “I want you. I want you so badly.”

“Oh, Brooklyn, I want you too.” Desire lent an almost painful tone to his voice, a tone that sent molten thrills drizzling inside her.

Slightly breathless, she raised off him and began to unbutton his shirt. He helped her while still keeping one arm around her waist. Urgency filled him and he slipped from beneath the covers and stood, yanking at buttons and zippers. Soon his clothes were on the floor beside the bed and he was back under the blankets beside her, his body radiating heat.

Brook began trailing kisses down his neck and chest. He buried his fingers in her hair. Her hands traveled over his thighs and abdomen. When her lips reached his navel, he thought he would explode. He groaned as she ran her hand, feather soft, over his erection.

Then she just stopped, held still as stone for a moment. It was as if ice water had been thrown in her face. Her yearning for Lance, the wild abandon she'd felt only seconds before, had been replaced with sudden, crippling fear. Her flesh crawled the tiniest bit.

“Brooklyn?”

"It feels wrong," she whispered. "I can't do this. They ruined me."

"No." Lance shook his head slightly, kept his voice low and soothing. "You're not ruined."

“But, what if I have a disease?” she cried. “What if they infected me with something?”

“Oh, honey, I don't think you do. And besides, I’m willing to take my chances.”

She rolled away and lay stiffly beside him, her change of heart filling the room with a dark feeling of disappointment and failure.

“I can’t,” she said flatly. “I’m sorry.” She pulled away and rolled over.

“Its okay, Brooklyn.” Lance’s voice was gentle as he fought back the heat of passion. He wanted to reach for her, but didn’t know if he should. She began to cry softly. He doubted the wisdom of his action, but nevertheless pulled her to his side, facing away from him. She didn’t resist. “Brooklyn, it’s alright. We don’t have to make love. It's enough just having you near me.”

She yielded and rolled over, burying her face in his shoulder. He wrapped her in his arms and held her.

“Lance, I …”

“Sshh,” he said, his deep voice comforting her. “It’s okay. We’ll just sleep. It’s okay, honey.” His body thrummed with unquenched desire, but he slowed his breathing and compelled himself to relax. The feel of her next to him was all he needed for the moment. The rest could wait.

She hugged him closer and her tears subsided. They didn’t speak; there was nothing to say that would change anything. He smoothed her hair back from her temple, and kept repeating the soothing touch until her body relaxed. Before long they drifted into sleep, listening to the wind against the sturdy walls of the cabin and the ticking of the old wind-up clock in the adjoining room.

Brook dreamed that night of stabbing Jase with a jagged piece of glass, and cutting her own hands to bloody ribbons in the process.
If I could hurt them like I wish I could, it would hurt me too.
Though her dream thoughts were hazy, that much was clear.

Chapter 43

The next morning, Lance woke to the warmth of Brook’s lips on his, the feel of her nude body pressed against him. Still sleepy, he responded as any healthy male would. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. This time, she didn’t retreat. Together they sank into the heat and urgency of their coupling. Their hands and mouths eagerly sought out the peaks and valleys of their yearning bodies. Passion rose to a fever; ripe, succulent, heady. The moment before penetration, Brook hesitated. They paused on the precipice of surrender and Lance thought for a second she would retreat. But she didn’t. She only sighed before lowering herself onto him.

The sensation made him reel and he grasped her hips to hold her steady, savoring the feel of her flesh enclosing him. Brook gasped as he filled her, the pleasure traveling through her in waves. The clean spicy scent of his skin, the heat of his body, and the sensuous feel of his hands drove her senses past the threshold of her fears and doubts. They made love without haste, lingering over every touch, prolonging each sensuous move.

Afterward, Brook waited for her breathing to calm, lying against Lance’s heaving chest, and wondered how she was able to enjoy this remarkable experience in light of all she had been through. Then it came to her as an insight. The act of tenderness she and Lance had just culminated was not the same thing as the forced attacks she had endured at the hands of Jase and his gang. It would be like trying to compare a panicked escape from a prison camp to a peaceful stroll on the beach. They weren’t even in the same category. You might use the same muscles and limbs, but other than that, there was no common ground. Relief flooded her at the realization that her ordeal did not need to define the rest of her life. It didn’t need to determine who she was or what she chose to do. Not if she didn’t want it to. Elation swelled within her, buoying her spirit. She was practical enough to know there would be setbacks, times when the horror of those days would infect the present, but she would deal with them when they came. For now, she would take the joy she was allowed in this moment. She ran her hand over Lance’s broad chest, touching him with wonder, as if to make sure he was real.

Lance entertained no such notions as he rested beneath her. The brutality she had endured never crossed his mind in the afterglow of their intimacy. He didn’t want it to ever end, and he almost spoke his thoughts.
Stay with me. Stay with me always.
With an effort, he bit back his words, knowing they would only divide her heart. Even the idea of her eventual departure filled him with sadness, but he pushed it away. This wasn't the time, not in this tender moment.

I’ll just take one day at a time, appreciate each precious hour I’m given with her, he told himself. He knew all too well how quickly happiness can be stolen away and replaced by sorrow.
In the blink of an eye, my friend, in the blink of an eye.
There are never any guarantees in this life. He closed his eyes and stroked her hair.
My sweet Brooklyn
.

Later, in the privacy of the bathroom, Brook stared in the mirror, as if studying her reflection could give her the answers she sought. Confusion threatened to pull her apart.
How could she be with Lance when she was married? What about Clark?

Crying softly, she went back and forth between guilt and desire, until she finally made a decision. There was absolutely nothing she could do about Clark at this time. She wasn’t sure what her feelings for him were anymore. But her feelings for Lance were abundantly clear and Lance was here.

For the present time, she’d live her life in the here and now. Brook dried her eyes, straightened her hair, and exited the room with a slightly lighter heart.