Hidden in a Whisper (18 page)

He could see Rachel battling against her emotions as she backed away from him. “I don't think this is appropriate,” she told him.

“Sit!” he demanded, hating to take such a harsh tone with her, yet knowing there was no other way to get her to listen.

Rachel nodded and backed into the chair. It seemed to swallow her up, only adding to the helplessness of her situation.

Braeden came to stand in front of her, planning only to remain close enough to keep her in the chair. Yet when he came to that point, he naturally followed his instincts and leaned over her, planting both hands on either arm rest. The action imprisoned her, leaving her totally at his mercy.

She looked first to each of his hands, then took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. “Why are you doing this?” she barely managed to whisper.

Braeden had thought he would berate her for her childishness at the pool. He would tell her how silly she had acted all week and how ridiculous she was to go on mistrusting him. Then he would explain the past again and demand that she understand and accept his explanation. It all seemed reasonable and logical. But standing this close to her, Braeden couldn't help but feel the pulsating current that seemed to travel between them. He looked down into her oval face, a face so sweetly fixed in his memories, and all he wanted to do was kiss her full red lips.

“Rachel.” The name came out more as a moan than a word as Braeden leaned closer to kiss her.

She didn't fight him, which eased Braeden's guilt for forcing himself upon her. And as his kissed deepened, Rachel seemed to match his enthusiasm by leaning into the kiss. Neither one touched the other, except by the joining of their lips. It was a perfect moment, Braeden thought, losing himself in the stillness of his office. How he had missed her! Six years and not a single word to ease his worried heart. Six years of love stored away for a chance that might never come.

He pulled away just a bit in order to speak of his love, but when he did he watched her squeeze her eyes shut and knew he'd pushed her too hard.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, straightening to stand before her. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

“It's all right,” she murmured, still refusing to open her eyes.

He thought he understood and watched her for a moment. Did she strive to block out his image, or rather, did she send her memories back in time to a place where she would have enjoyed his actions?

Braeden smiled to himself knowing that she had enjoyed his kiss just now. She hadn't even tried to put a stop to his advances.

Pulling up another chair, he sighed and pushed back the errant hair that had fallen across his forehead. He waited until she had regained her composure and opened her eyes. Her expression betrayed her longing, and it was this that caused Braeden to press forward with his explanation.

“I had to see you. I had to make you talk to me, or at least to listen to me,” he began. “I've been half crazy working so close to you, yet never being able to be near you—to touch you—talk to you.”

She appeared surprised by his words, and Braeden knew instinctively that she was still harboring painful memories from the past.

“Rachel, Ivy Brooks means nothing to me. She's a conniving little child who is searching for a husband and a ticket out of Morita. I'm not that man. What you saw at the pool was pure coincidence and nothing more.”

“But she said you'd sent her a note,” Rachel murmured, confirming to Braeden where her heart was in the matter.

“I forwarded her a note from her aunt. I had gone to the depot to pick up some telegrams and ran into Mrs. Needlemeier. She gave me a note for Ivy and asked if I would be so kind as to deliver it.”

“I see,” Rachel said, clearly enlightened by this news.

“As for her being in my arms when you returned for your book, it was just as I tried to explain. Either honestly or dishonestly, Ivy slipped. Instinctively, I reached out to steady her. It was nothing more than this. I left the pool right after you did and thought to come talk to you, but I knew you would need to change out of your wet clothes and figured it would be better if I talked to you the next day. But you wouldn't allow me anywhere near you.”

Tears formed in Rachel's green eyes. “I'm sorry,” she managed to say before allowing a tiny sob to escape. “This has been very hard on me.”

“You aren't the only one,” Braeden countered with a smile. But his smile quickly faded as he saw how tormented she was over the entire matter. “Tell me that you no longer love me, and I'll never bother you again,” he said suddenly. He knew it was a risk—he wasn't at all sure he wanted to hear the answer but felt confident that the matter had to be discussed.

She looked at him in disbelief, trying hard to rein in her emotions. “What?”

He leaned forward, reaching out to take hold of her hand. “Tell me, Rachel. Tell me that you don't love me.”

He could see her breathing quicken and watched as her expression contorted. She was fighting a battle within herself, and he couldn't help her. But her battle gave him the answer he needed and that gave him hope.

“I love you, Rachel. That has never changed. I've never stopped, even when you refused to believe in me. All I ask is that you admit what you're feeling for me. If I'm right, then we can move past this and reclaim our future together. If not, then I'll leave you alone. In fact, I'll leave Casa Grande. You only need to tell me that you no longer care.”

A gasping sob broke from Rachel's throat as she pulled her hand away from his. “Don't do this. I can't … I …”

Braeden's heart was encouraged. She still loved him, of this he was certain. It gave him all the hope he needed to press her for the truth. “Why not, Rachel? Why can't you tell me that you don't love me?”

Rachel shook her head in misery, giving him no answer but her silence. She began to cry in earnest now. “I've been wrong about so many things, and I just don't trust my judgment where my emotions are concerned. You must see that I can't have my life so disorderly— so disturbed. I feel like I'm constantly running up one hill and down another in some form of endless race. I'm making no progress, but I have to keep running. It's wearing me out.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she was too quick for him.

Releasing all the pressures of her life over the last few weeks, Rachel poured out her heart, edging close to hysteria as she did so.

“First I have to deal with the likes of Ivy and her aunt. Esmeralda Needlemeier has interfered in my decisions at nearly every turn. She criticizes my choices, my decisions, and my close observation of Mr. Harvey's instructions. She threatens to have me fired at least once a day, and she considers it her personal business to see me miserable.

Then she saddles me with Ivy. Ivy comes along and wreaks havoc with my authority—questioning every order, commenting on every detail of instruction. She's young and beautiful and she knows it, so she works her wiles on every man who comes through the door—including you.”

She drew a ragged breath and continued. “It's just too much. Can't you see? The pressure is too great and it's destroying me. You are here as a constant reminder of what I've lost, while Reginald pursues me in hopes of courtship and a future that I cannot give him. I can't go on like this!” She buried her face in her hands and cried in great heartbreaking sobs. “I can't.”

Braeden felt momentarily overwhelmed. He had never seen anyone break down so thoroughly. Even when Rachel had bid him good-bye in Chicago, she had been rather stalwart. This time, however, was clearly a different case. It stunned him and left him totally confused as to how he might help. He certainly hadn't anticipated causing her this kind of misery.

Help me, Lord
, he prayed as he edged forward on his chair.
I don't want to hurt her anymore. I only want to love her
.

Uncertain that it was the right thing to do, Braeden got to his feet and pulled Rachel up into his arms. She nearly collapsed against him, unable to fight him or to stop her tears. He let her cry, holding her tightly against him, feeling her tears wet the front of his shirt. Her entire body trembled from the force of pain and misery inside of her. Searching desperately for something to say, Braeden found he could only stand there, praying and waiting for her to release the anguish that seemed to consume her.

He lost track of time, knowing that it didn't matter. He would have stood there for years had it taken that long. If it meant that Rachel could leave off with the past and her doubts and give him a second chance at a happy future with her, Braeden would have waited forever. When her sobs seemed to quiet a bit and the trembling and great wracking heaves eased off, Braeden began stroking her hair. His fingers tangled into the rich auburn curls, pulling loose her hairpins. Her hair was soft and it smelled like lilacs and roses.

He loved her so much and he just couldn't lose her again.
Please, God, don't let me lose her
.

She finally quieted against him, her arms wrapped tightly around him, clinging to him as if he were some stronghold in the storm. Finally it seemed right to speak.

“I love you, Rachel. I have always loved you. You must trust me. You must believe in that love, for it will never die.”

She pulled away just far enough to look up into his face. She seemed to study him, as if by observing his expression she could tell the truth of his words. He remained quite sober as her green eyes seemed to search him for answers.

“Esmeralda can't hurt you,” he continued softly. “She's a lonely, domineering old woman who is used to having things done her way. She doesn't know how to deal with someone who stands her ground against her as you do. But she is not the one in charge of your position here, and Fred Harvey knows what an asset you are to his system. He won't let you go easily, and he certainly won't dismiss you at the grumblings of one old woman.

“And Ivy is nothing to me. She is a spoiled brat who seeks to cause problems. I wouldn't take her too seriously. She's just a child. She has no power over you, unless you give it to her. And as for Reginald Worthington, well … let's just say I'll deal with him.”

Rachel sniffed and shook her head. “It's not your problem.”

“But I want it to be my problem,” Braeden countered. “I want it to be my problem because I want
you
to be my problem.”

“He's done nothing wrong.”

“Nothing but ask to court my lady,” Braeden said with a grin. He reached up and touched her tear-stained cheeks with his index finger. “He can't have you, Rachel. You belong to me—just as I belong to you.”

Because they were still in each other's arms, it seemed only natural that he kiss her again. He lowered his mouth to hers very slowly, giving her every chance to protest. He might have forced that first kiss, but not this one. This one he wanted to be a symbol of their life to come. He wanted it to be the first of many sweet, passionate kisses they would share by mutual desire.

Rachel closed her eyes, and he knew she wanted this kiss as much as he did. Gently, so as not to startle her, he pressed his lips to hers.

He felt her embrace tighten, even as he held her closer to him. His heart rejoiced that he had found her again and that she cared for him. Although she'd not said the words, he knew she still loved him.

But without warning, Rachel pulled away, this time putting several feet of distance between them. “Mr. Harvey doesn't allow for dating between his employees. You mustn't … I mean … we mustn't—” “Mustn't what? Love each other?” Braeden asked, stepping closer.

“No!” Rachel exclaimed. She held out her arm as if to ward him off. “You must understand. I have been quite strict with the girls and even with Reg. I told him it was not allowable for Mr. Harvey's employees to court. It's against the rules.”

“So we break the rules.”

She shook her head again. “That's what Reg said, but you know that isn't what God would want of us.”

Braeden smiled. “I don't recall there's any law of Mr. Harvey's against being married to another employee. In fact, as I recall, there were several incidences of that at the Las Vegas resort where I took my training.”

“Married?” Rachel questioned, her eyes growing wide with what Braeden could only surmise was a mixture of shock and fear.

“Rachel,” he said softly, hoping to alleviate her fright, “would marriage to me be so bad?”

“Marriage?” She seemed stuck on variations of the word.

He smiled. “I don't wish to court you. I've already done that. I want to marry you and make you my wife forever. I don't want there to come another chance for you to slip away from me. Marry me.”

“Marry you.” She said it rather stoically, as if he'd asked for nothing more than her assistance in sending a telegram. She took a deep breath and let it out before answering. “Braeden, I think we both need to pray about this. We're acting on emotions and the turmoil of the moment. We can't think clearly under the circumstances.”

“I'm thinking quite clearly,” he said, taking a step toward her.

She shook her head and backed up to the door. “I can't.”

He knew he couldn't continue to force the issue and nodded. “Very well. Then I suppose I must wait until that time when you can think this through and see it for the sensible remedy that I know it to be.”

She appeared to relax a bit. “Thank you, Braeden.” She opened the door but paused as if reconsidering what had just taken place. With the tiniest of smiles she said, “I seem to have made a mess of your shirt.”

“No more so than I made of your hair,” he offered with a grin. “I'd say we're even.”

Her hand went to her hair, and she smiled as she pulled loose the last remaining pins. “I might as well let it all down.”