had ever met. The men
in her life had been lots of things but honorable wasn’t one of them. If it had
been the Benchleys, they would have had her apologizing for provoking them…as
she had with Murphy. She remembered too well how he had reacted to that.
If only he knew the physical bruises
hurt much less than the emotional. She could handle a few surface bruises. The
inner ones never seemed to heal. Studying the scar on his face, she wondered if
it were true for Murphy too.
“How about a truce?” she asked and
watched Murphy’s eyes narrow. “I agree not to go into your room without
knocking first and you trust me when I say you didn’t hurt me.”
The hand smoothing the bruises on her
neck stilled.
“No. You stay out of my room, no matter
what you hear, and I won’t hurt you again.” His voice sounded as if he were
chewing on glass.
“Why can’t you forgive yourself? I’m
fine, no harm done.”
Murphy’s expression darkened like a
thundercloud. “You don’t get it, do you? I could have killed you, Sara. I’m a
very dangerous man.”
Sara shook her head. “No, Murphy, the
man chasing me is dangerous. You are different because you can’t forgive
yourself for a few bruises. That makes you a good man in my eyes. You saved my
daughter’s life and have taken us into your home, so don’t tell me that you’re
dangerous, because I don’t believe it.”
Murphy’s hand dropped from her neck and
he glowered at her. He jerked the door open. “You’re a poor judge of character.
You should be more careful.” The door closed quietly behind him.
Sara let out a long, shaky breath. He
was right. She was a poor judge of character. Her former husband was proof of
that. Had she misjudged Murphy? She refused to believe Murphy was like them.
His actions were at odds with his words. He had been asleep when he grabbed
her, so how could she be wrong about him? He hadn’t awakened until she kissed
him. Then he’d been responsible for his actions. Sara shuddered in memory of
those telling actions, her body remembering just how responsible he’d been.
No, she didn’t believe it. The only way
to know for sure was to find out where Murphy went in his dreams. The key lay
in his nightmares and, she suspected, in his scars.
Question was, did she really want to
know?
* * * *
Murphy drew fresh air into his lungs and
let it out slowly. The skies were cloudy but it had finally stopped raining. He
didn’t need to check the road. It washed out every time it rained and usually
took days to dry up, but he was going stir crazy in the cabin with Sara
underfoot.
They had done a fairly good job of
steering clear of each other since the night he almost made love to her. Every
time he turned around she was there with her honey blond hair and sky blue eyes
that always seemed to be watching him. She covered herself with jeans and
turtlenecks but they didn’t hide the pure, sensual woman beneath. If anything,
they enhanced the fact and it drove him nuts. He’d never been one to act on
impulse, but damn if he didn’t want to finish what they’d started.
He wasn’t the only dangerous one on the
mountain. Sara Sheldon presented a danger that could very well level him. She
was soft and attentive and compassionate by nature. The last thing he needed.
He needed his privacy back.
The door behind him opened.
Murphy groaned inwardly and turned
around to see Sara and Abby standing in the doorway. Abby wore a jacket, hat
and gloves over her flowered pants and shirt, and Sara had put on his extra
parka. The cuffs were rolled three times and she swam in it, but she didn’t
seem to care as she smiled at him and stepped outside, closing the door behind
them.
“Mind if we tag along?” she asked. “We
could use some fresh air.”
Yeah, he could relate. He didn’t want
them to come along because he needed time alone. One look at the hopeful smile
on the little girl’s face and he knew his time alone had just been