Misplaced Hands: 4 (Foreign Affairs) (16 page)

Keith couldn’t tell if Hunter was being sarcastic about Annie’s reaction or honest. He didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to Harper. Being with her. Taking away her fear, her pain. If she would let them.

Worshipping her with their bodies, their love. For as long as possible.

Before their days together ran out.

Harper returned the phone to its cradle, her heart racing, her mouth dry. Hunter Sullivan had called the cottage via the direct line between the homestead and Amy’s home and told her not to go to work today.

Lips tingling, blood roaring in her ears, she shuffled to the closest chair and dropped into it. Only four days of teaching at Farpoint Creek and she’d been fired.

No, that wasn’t right. Hunter hadn’t fired her, just told her not to go to work today. Told her Annie and Hazel would take the class.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Harper drove her nails into her palms.

She should have told him. Should have told him what Ronnie had done, tried to do.

Which was what? Scare you? Was he really going to do what you think he was? Or was it the little girl inside you, the one trapped by the actions of a sick man who should have known better, who terrorized you with fear?

Opening her eyes, Harper studied her toes for a long moment. What did she do now?

Find Keith and Marc. Tell them you’re sorry. Ask them to hold you. To make love to you.

She wrapped her arms around her belly, drawing in a long breath. She wished more than anything she hadn’t sent them away last night. She should have confided in them. It would have been the brave thing to do. But she’d been so scared, sickened by Ronald’s assault.

So many years of hiding what she’d lived through as a child had tainted her, twisted her fear of Ronald’s perverted attention into self-contempt and guilt. Which in turn twisted her judgment. It had been all too easy last night to picture Keith’s rage turning to disgust if she’d told them what had happened. All too easy to believe Marc would think her tainted. Or even a whore.

All too easy to believe what had happened was her fault. She’d let Ronald in, even when she’d sensed he wasn’t there for a mere visit. Regret was a bitter pill to swallow, but staying silent, keeping it all to herself, locking away her hurt and grief and disgust was the only course she’d ever known.

She’d been groomed as a child to never say a word about the hideous deeds done to her. And thanks to the immense shame, she’d never wanted to.

Until now.

God. How she hated that she hadn’t told Marc and Keith. Hated that she’d sent them away. Hated that she hadn’t allowed them to ease her anguish.

They might never want to see her again. Why would they? She’d lashed out at them, shunned them. Told them to leave her alone.

Why would they come to her now, after everything they’d done to help her, and she’d been so venomous? Keith had been ready to
kill
for her—and she’d demanded he go away. Why would anyone tolerate that? Open themselves to more rejection?

They wouldn’t.

The two men who’d saved her from a nightmare no doubt thought her an unhinged—

The dull thud of a car door slamming outside jolted her to her feet. Her heart slammed faster, each beat a painful blow inside her chest.

Who was out there?

A sharp whistle cut the suffocating silence, followed by a scratching sound on the porch. “Back in the ute, Jett.” Keith’s voice rose above the hammering of Harper’s heart.

“Reckon you should have left him with Legs?” Marc’s voice came next.

Harper stood frozen, staring hard at the closed door.

They were here.

They were here…

“Jett. Home.” Keith’s command was closer this time.

A dog barked, three quick yaps Harper swore sounded happy.

Or maybe her own emotional state was tainting her senses. Keith and Marc were outside the cottage. They’d come back to her. After sending them away, they’d come back. How could she
not
be happy?

Uncaring of how she looked, she ran to the door and yanked it open.

Keith stood at the foot of the front porch steps, his profile presented to her as he studied something farther down the dirt road. Marc was walking up behind him, adjusting his hat.

“You’re here,” she burst out before she could stop herself.

Both men’s attention swung to her. Two sets of eyes took her in. Marc’s hand slipped from his hat, his lips parting, steps halting.

Keith’s shoulders straightened. His jaw bunched. “Harper—”

She shook her head. “Shut the fuck up, Blue,” she pleaded. “And kiss—”

He stopped her before she could finish the plea, the distance between them disappearing in two strides, his strong arms wrapping around her, crushing her to his chest as he claimed her lips.

The kiss melted the chill in her soul. His lips sought out her pain and took it away. She moaned, giving him everything she had in her heart.

Just as her head began to swim, he tore his mouth from hers and brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Jesus, darl’. You have no idea how much I’ve needed to do that.”

“Yes, I do.” She moved her stare to Marc, finding him at Keith’s side, his eyes ablaze with desire. Lifting her hand, she touched her fingertips to his lips. “I do.”

“That’s good,” Marc smiled against her light caress, “’cause we plan on doing it again. All day, if you let us.”

She blinked, the memory of Hunter’s phone call sending a rush of hot tingles up her spine. “You know I’m not teaching today?”

Keith nodded. “We do.”

A lump filled her throat. “Is Mr. Sullivan angry? I swear, I didn’t mean for Ronnie—”

Keith kissed her silent. “Shush. You’re not in trouble. If you want to press charges against him, you can. You should. We’ll be right by your side, but even if you do, you won’t have to deal with Big Mac again. Not alone. Never alone.”

“You
will
have to deal with us though.” Marc grinned “If that’s okay with you?”

The jesting words made Harper’s heart fill with warmth. Until she saw the hesitation in Marc’s eyes. Until she saw the tension in Keith’s jaw.

Tell them. They need to understand what happened last night. If they don’t, they’ll draw their own conclusions and Ronald McNamara may not survive.

The lump in her throat grew thicker. She drew in a slow breath and detangled herself from Keith’s arms. “I need…” She paused. Drew another breath. “Come inside. I need to explain.”

Keith nodded. As did Marc. They followed her and more than anything she wanted them to thread their fingers through hers. To hold her hands, one man on either side.

How had she come to ache for them so quickly?

Stopping at the sofa, she lowered herself onto the middle cushion. Marc sat beside her, removing his hat to place it on the coffee table.

Keith sat in the armchair opposite, his eyes shadowed by his hat. She would never tire of seeing him wearing it. It defined him in a way she couldn’t understand. When this was all over, when she was back in the States reliving the moments with them, she would remember Marc’s devilish grin and Keith’s hat-shrouded gaze. She would close her eyes every night and conjure them in her mind, hoping the memory would become a dream.

Tight sorrow stabbed at her.

She hadn’t lied to Amy last night during her desperate midnight phone call. She didn’t want to go home. She wanted to stay here. On Farpoint. With the small class of children who made her smile. With the clean air, the endless skies, the warm days, the starry nights.

With Keith and Marc.

Letting out a slow breath, she folded her hands in her lap and looked at both of them. “When I was almost ten, my mom divorced my dad and married a prick called Ross. My stepfather spent a year sort of grooming me for…” She stopped and dragged her fingers through her hair. “I was young, but not so much that I didn’t know the way he touched me occasionally, as if it was an accident, was…wrong. His hands always brushed my chest, my hips. He always needed to get a glass when I was standing at the kitchen counter, and he would press his groin to my back while reaching for one. Whenever I was in the bath, he would need to use the bathroom. He’d always tell me to close my eyes while he peed but I knew he didn’t close his. I told my mom I didn’t like it, but she didn’t believe me. She said I was being silly.

“When I was almost eleven, my mom went out with some friends and left me alone with him. I was scared. My boobs were growing and he kept looking at them. All the time. I called my brother and begged him to come, but Andrew was busy…”

She saw Keith’s frown turn to a dark glower and held out her hand. “Andrew is ten years older than me. He’d only just turned twenty-one a few weeks earlier. He was going out with his buddies, clubbing. I understand why he said no.”

“Did he know about your stepfather?” Marc’s voice was flat.

She shook her head. “Not really. Just that I didn’t like Ross.” She sighed. “Andrew told me I would be okay. To go to my room and watch TV. I did. I even pulled my old Barbie house in front of the door a little, to make it harder for someone to come in.” Her throat seized up and for a moment, a horrible moment, the words wouldn’t come, drowned in the memory of that night.

“He…” She stopped, closed her eyes and knotted her fingers together. “My stepdad pushed the door open. He…touched…” She scrunched up her face, fighting the memories even as she tried to recount them. “He touched me. Between my legs. Made me touch
him
. I was scared. So scared. I tried to stop him but he started to push me flat onto the bed. He was crushing me.”

“Jesus, love,” Marc whispered.

She lifted her head, showing them her tears. “And then Andrew was there. I heard him coming up the stairs. I heard him punch Ross. And then my brother scooped me up and carried me away from the house and I never saw my stepfather again. Andrew raised me. Protected me. I’m the woman I am now because of him.”

Cold rage warred with anguish in Keith’s eyes. He hadn’t said a word. Beside her, Marc gently opened her clenched fists, threading his fingers through hers. She looked at him. “Andrew made me the woman I was before I came to Farpoint,” she said, her heart a steady rhythm in her ears. “But the woman I
want
to be, the woman I
can
be…” She lifted a shoulder, returning her gaze to the silent Keith. “You two found that woman inside me. She’s brave and adventurous and fun. She doesn’t want to be crippled by her stepfather’s vile abuse anymore. She doesn’t want to have the best thing in her life ruined by painful memories. She wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for you both. And I like her. I like her a lot.”

“We like her too, Harper,” Keith said. “So bloody much.”

She laughed, a choked sob of happiness. Lifting her hand, she wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffing. “I must look like a mess, I know. I slept in my clothes. I haven’t brushed my hair…or my teeth since yesterday. And I’m sure I’ve got raccoon eyes after all the stupid crying I’ve done but…” Her belly fluttered. “But will you make love to me, please? I want to feel you inside me. I want—”

It was Marc’s kiss that silenced her this time.

His lips claimed her mouth, gentle at first then playful. He nibbled on her bottom lip, flicked his tongue along her teeth. She laughed, the sound close to a moan as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her chest to his.

The sofa cushion dipped and then Keith was beside her, his warm, strong hand smoothing over her hip, down her thigh. Her heart quickened when he slipped his fingers under the hem of her dress, tracing slow circles up the bare expanse of her flesh, higher, higher, dipping over her upper thigh until he brushed the curve of her sex.

She wasn’t wearing panties. She’d planned to surprise them last night at the pub, whispering her secret before wriggling her butt at them as she walked to the bar and ordered the next round of drinks.

Now, over twelve hours later, Keith groaned at his discovery. “Fuck, darl’.” The words were rough. His lips found the curve of her neck as Marc continued to worship her mouth. Keith stroked his fingertips over the seam of her pussy, a slow, deliberate exploration that ended on her clit.

A shudder rocked through her, soul-deep and exquisite. She shifted on the sofa, parting her thighs to Keith’s touch even as she dragged her mouth from Marc’s, offering her throat.

He took it, his lips scoring a searing path over her chin, along her jaw, down to her collarbone.

Harper closed her eyes, succumbing to the pleasure swelling within her. Keith’s fingers rolled over her clit, teasing it with varying strokes and pressure. She pushed her hips upward, a hitching breath escaping when he parted her folds and dipped one finger inside her moist heat. “Oh yes.”

Marc’s lips moved lower over her chest. He traced tiny patterns on her flesh with his tongue, first over the upper swell of one breast then the other. Her nipples pinched tight, scraping against the lace of her bra, and she snared a fistful of his hair, aching for him to suck on them.

When he moved his mouth to the V of her neckline, capturing a small pearl button, she let out a shaky laugh.