Mallory Rush - [Outlawsand Heroes 02] (14 page)

There was something odd about his hesitation, the flicker of indecision she glimpsed before he shook his head.

"I'll leave it. A bow to your virtue, if you will." With his chest exposed, but the shirt left on, Noble's reluctant gallantry rang more false than true.

"How do you—or did you—usually sleep?" Lori asked before she could stop herself.

"For as long as I can remember, I've preferred a crisp, clean sheet against my bare skin. Even when it's cold out beyond belief, I'll take an extra blanket before wearing a nightshirt. So tell me, what of yourself? Do you always wear a long gown and a serviceable wrapper to bed?"

Again, Lori wished for the filmy pink bit of nothing in her drawer. "Just the gown—lately, that is. Before Mick came along, I slept in a T-shirt. Then, once we started sleeping together, I wore nightgowns. And then I quit wearing those. But after he died, I started wearing nightgowns again. I don't know why."

Why was Noble frowning? she wondered. She rushed on to say, "what Mick and I had together was good. Right and good. From the first time he touched me, I knew he was the man I had been waiting for. I didn't have to think twice about agreeing to marry him, sleep with him for the rest of our lives—or, as it turned out, the rest of his life."

Noble's brow furrowed. "Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but were you actually intimate before pledging your vows?"

"Of course we were. Almost all couples are before they get married these days. In fact, some women have several lovers before they settle on one."

"Might I ask how many you've had yourself?"

It wasn't anyone's business but her own, but since he'd asked nicely, with more curiosity than machismo, Lori answered him. "So far, Noble, I've had one. At least if lots of hanky-panky in the backseat of a car doesn't count. Now, turnabout being fair play, what about you?"

For a second she actually thought he was too stunned by her question to respond.

"I, ah... suffice it to say, I've had more
intimate
partners than you. However, none of them for very long. Once I returned to Alaska, I occasionally sought the favors of harlots—not to be confused with courtesans, who take pride in their illustrious trade." He laughed, ruefully. "But why should any man need the services of either, what with feminine sensibilities as modern as your own?"

"Believe it or not, my sensibilities aren't modern by a long shot compared with plenty of others." Had she told him that because it was true—which it was—or was it because a part of her wanted to stay on the pedestal Noble had put her on? Both, she decided, and hastened to add, "I'm not into recreational sex—never was, never will be. I'm just not made that way."

"Yes, I know." A slight smile, a probing gaze, and he asked, "How are you made, Lori?"

"Like everyone else, from a certain mold but different from anyone besides myself. When I commit, I'm in for the long haul, Noble. I'll take the laughter, the fights, the sex, the tears, and be happy with that. Even if a relationship went sour, I could never cheat."

"This I believe. And yet why do I have the uneasy sense you feel as if you're cheating on your deceased husband by keeping company with me?" Noble narrowed his gaze on the wedding portrait beside the bed.

Lori wanted to tell him what he said was ridiculous. But she couldn't. There was a part of her that most definitely felt like she was cheating. It was the same feeling she'd struggled with in the tub and come to terms with. But now here it was again, resurfacing and intruding on what she wanted, desperately needed, with another man. It made her angry with herself, resentful of the memories that wouldn't let go.
She had to let them go.

With a silent prayer for forgiveness, Lori reached for the picture. Hand unsteady, determined, she turned it down.

Noble flipped up the wedding portrait, the moment frozen in time, staring them both in the face.

"I will sleep with you, Lori. But I will not now, nor will I ever, be a part of your guilt. Your reasons for wanting to shut out your past are far different from mine for wishing to do away with it. You do not wish Mick to see you with me—that is it, isn't it? After all, you are still bound to a man who resides in a picture beside your bed and in your heart. Can you deny it?"

More than anything, she wanted to. Fiercely. In Noble's eyes she saw a silent plea that she would. But what he'd said was true and she couldn't lie to him any more than she could to herself. Sadly, Lori shook her head.

"Your bed is too crowded for me." Noble refastened a button at his waist. "When there is room for me, and me alone, to lie beside you, let me know. Until then... sleep well."

He turned to leave.

"Wait." Lori was off the bed and gripping his arm before she gave herself time to hide in the safety of cowardice. Her gaze veered from him to Mick's memory. Meeting the challenge, she insisted, "sleep with me. Now."

"Just with you?"

"Just with me. You and me, nobody and nothing else."

"Prove it."

It wasn't Noble she had to convince beyond simply welcoming him into her arms. It was herself that demanded more substantial proof that she had confronted and conquered this thing she could not allow to keep consuming her life.

Lori stepped back until she came even with the bedstand. Slowly, deliberately, she released the top button of her nightgown. And as she did she stared at her wedding picture, the couple who no longer existed outside a silver frame.

Her hands were unsteady, but still, she released the second button. It was painful to make herself do this, the difficulty of her actions intense. But so was the liberation Lori embraced.

This was different from coming apart at the seams in a tub or on a table, when she hadn't known what she was really doing. But what she did now, what she was compelled to do, was for herself more than for Noble. For herself more than for him, she stared at the past while baring herself to another man.

Lori drew aside the bodice of her gown. She lifted out a single breast. And as she did it she wept. Eyes open, she wept in sorrow and in joy as she turned her gaze to Noble, letting him see so much more than the nakedness of her breast.

Noble could not blink. He could not speak. What he saw moved him as he had never been moved before. A single breast, a beautiful, full breast was all Lori had revealed. And yet she had exposed her very bones, her soul. He could love this woman. As he stared at her, amazed by her depth and courage, he wondered if perhaps he didn't love her already.

He watched her as she cupped her palm beneath the pale, rounded weight and in silence offered it to him.

"Dear God," he breathed. "Dear God."

"Sleep with me," she whispered again.

He bent his head, bowed before this remarkable woman, a lady beyond measure by any standards, and laid his cheek to her breast. As he did Noble reached for the lamp.

They fell onto the bed and embraced beneath the covers, his chest pressed to hers, their cheeks just as close. He whispered into her ear what he'd never said to a woman before. That she was both angel and demon, capable of possessing his very soul. That she gave him a sense of unrivaled peace even as she robbed him of what little peace he'd ever claimed in life, past or present. He told her that he didn't dare kiss her because if he did, he wouldn't be able to stop.

Lori said nothing, nothing at all to his confessions; yet she spoke volumes when she urged his head down.

His need was dire to fill his mouth, suckle her ever so gently and with a passionate fury. Noble did neither.

Whatever the standards of this time were, they were not his. And if ever there was a woman worthy of his protection, his vows of faithfulness and provision before reaping her favors in bed, it was Lori.

The woman he would take for a wife.

His senses filled with the beat of her heart, the feel of her fingertips stroking his hair, he held her ever so tightly until she stroked no more and her breathing was even and slow.

Only then did Noble allow himself to steal a taste, just a small taste, of her breast.

It tasted of home.

His last conscious thought was that he did indeed love Lori. And sleep though he might, he would not well and truly rest until her past and his were like so much fodder sparking a flame that would not, could not, die.

Chapter 11

"You're sure you'll be okay?" Lori asked.

Noble reluctantly tore his gaze from the television and assured her, again, "I'll be perfectly fine. Just as I promised, I won't wander the streets or play with the telephone. Neither will I attempt to pet the dog next door since he has a tendency to bite. As for your car, no need to worry that I'll attempt to drive it since you're taking it to work."

Beep, beep! Beep, beep!
Returning his attention to the animated character Lori had said was a cartoon, Noble said distractedly, "by the way, thank you for treating me to that marvelous ride out yesterday. The only thing I enjoyed more than exploring the supermarket and the dry-goods store was the driving lesson you gave me."

Beep, beep! Beep, beep!
The Roadrunner sounded much like the automobile's horn. He felt a thrill at the prospect of toying with the assortment of dashboard gadgets again.

Watching the silly coyote fiddle with a box of gadgetry and blow himself up, Noble slapped his knee and burst out laughing. Glancing up, he noticed that Lori wasn't even smiling as she tapped a white shoe.

A rather unattractive one—almost as ugly as that atrocious wrapper she had a habit of wearing about the house. Taking her in, he felt his loins quicken. The short white dress and matching hosiery clinging from slender ankles to just above shapely knees more than compensated for her other attire.

"If it's not too much to ask, could you drag yourself away from that stupid cartoon long enough to kiss me good-bye?"

In a few long strides he met her toe-to-toe. Narrowing his gaze on her mouth, he said, "Am I to understand that part of my household duties include kissing you on demand?"

"Well... yeah."

"I'm not accustomed to being ordered about," he informed her with mock severity. "I am, however, quite comfortable in placing orders of my own." He slid his arm around her waist, bent her backward, and demanded in a hot whisper, "kiss me." When he was done, Lori staggered back, her lipstick smudged from the bottom of her nose to the end of her chin.

She checked her watch. "Oh great," she gasped out. "Now I'm going to be late."

"Then you'd best hurry along—before I make you even later than you already are." Noble licked a finger and rubbed at the lipstick on her chin. "When you come home, all will be as it should be. Trust me."

"Okay. But remember, call me if you need anything. I left the number beside the phone and—"

"Yes, yes." The sooner she left, the sooner he could make use of the phone and set his plan for independence into motion. Shooing her out, he said, "Godspeed."

She squared her shoulders and turned away.

"Oh, Lori," he called down the hall.

"Yes?" she asked expectantly.

"You still have lipstick on your nose."

He chuckled as he heard her retreating grumbles, soon followed by the sound of her car squealing out from the driveway. Then, returning his attention to the television, he laughed even harder as he watched the Roadrunner outsmart his nemesis yet again.

* * *

"Lori? Lori. Oh Lorreee, anybody in there?"

"Huh?" She looked up from the chart, and it took a few seconds for reality to register. "Oh, Ryan. Hi."

"Are you still sick? I was worried about you when I stopped by after work yesterday and you weren't home, even more so when you didn't answer your phone later. But strange as you've been acting this morning, I'm getting concerned as hell. You've been clocked out ever since you clocked in."

Lori debated, then motioned him into the empty break room. Closing the door, she took a deep breath and said in a hush, "he's alive, Ryan."

Ryan snickered. "Sure he is, Lori. Sure he is. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be right back with a head doctor."

"No, Ryan, I mean it. He's really, really alive. His name is Noble Zhivago and he's got the most incredible past. Get this—his father was a cousin to the czar, who gave him ten thousand acres of land and—"