“You look like you could use some real food, and maybe a shot of whiskey.” He reluctantly released her hand and stood, lingered a moment as he gazed down at her and she looked up into his eyes, her blue ones holding a hint of gratitude, and hope.
“I think I just want to sleep,” she murmured.
Lowe stooped and lifted her into his arms, gently cradled her to his chest and carried her upstairs to the bed. He set her down on it and she lay back, resting her head on the pillows. He lit the oil lamp on the bedside table for her, kept it low so it didn’t keep her awake, and lingered again.
“I’ll be just downstairs. Going to fix you some soup in case it turns out you’re hungry after all and grab myself that shot of whiskey.” He smiled at her and she nodded, the barest dip of her head, and the sight of her hurting had him wanting to stay, needing to be near her and aching with a need to reach down and brush her hair from her face. “It’ll be okay, Cameo.”
She nodded again and when he went to leave, she grabbed his hand and looked awkward as she held it. “Would you—never mind. Just… thanks.”
He knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling. She wasn’t a burden, and wanting him to stay close while she fell asleep didn’t make her weak. He eased onto his backside on the bed, twisted at the waist and reached over her. He grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her, covering her as best he could.
Her eyes slipped shut and he watched her, monitoring her with his senses, making sure she was calm. How long had it been since she had felt safe enough to sleep without fear? He did growl when he thought about the fact she was running for her life, had been forced to fight a man in order to survive, and there were more still after her and her family. It came out low and deep, a long rumbling sound that he felt sure would make her open her eyes, but they remained closed.
Her breathing levelled out and fell into a slow and steady rhythm, telling him that she was sleeping.
Lowe took the phone from her, switched it off, and set it on the bedside table. He stared at it. Whoever had done that to her brother would pay for it. He would see to that. He would make sure she was safe and free, able to go about her life again.
He lifted his left hand and brushed his fingers across her cheek, lingered with the tips of them against her soft skin, and cursed himself. He was getting in deep again, over his head, and this time he knew things wouldn’t end well for him.
He couldn’t fall for her.
No matter how badly he wanted to, and no matter how badly he wanted this thing between them to work out.
He had to do the right thing.
He had to let her go.
Chapter 9
The smell of frying bacon drew Cameo up from a deep sleep. She yawned and stretched, grimaced as her leg hurt and the wound on her left arm throbbed a little. She sank into the soft mattress, rested her hands on her stomach on top of the fur that covered her and stared at the pitched wooden ceiling as she listened to Lowe moving around below her.
He was humming a tune.
She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was strangely comforting, warming even, to hear him going about his life as if everything was normal. Last night, she had felt sure that he would want her as far away from him as he could get her, that she would wake with an air ambulance waiting to cart her away from him. It had surprised her when he had reiterated his vow to protect her and hadn’t seemed at all worried that there were men after her—powerful men. Men with guns.
She supposed that living up in a remote valley had probably hardened him in ways she couldn’t understand, stripping away his softness, just as it had with his body.
Cameo squeezed her eyes shut and told herself not to think about his body.
A woman could go a long time without seeing such a body in the flesh though, could reach a point where she started believing that men like that didn’t really exist, that they were purely in magazines and other more adult things.
“You’re up!” Lowe’s deep voice rocked her, had her gasping as it shattered a fantasy building in her head, replacing imaginary Lowe with the real thing.
She snapped her eyes open and looked at him, knew how startled she had to look when he rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down the stairs behind him.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” He scratched his lightly stubbled jaw. “Just wanted to see if you were in the mood for breakfast? You must be starving.”
She nodded, her fantasy of Lowe becoming a fantasy of him draped in that crispy, tempting bacon she could smell. She wanted to eat it off him. That thought startled her more than he had, had her cheeks flaming and her eyes darting to the dark covers and furs on his bed.
His bed.
She grew painfully aware of him as he stood there staring at her, waiting for an answer she couldn’t give him while her mind was racing, throwing wicked images at her that she was in no position to be entertaining, and that she certainly would never actually attempt to do.
Her stomach squirmed a little. He was being the perfect gentleman, was taking care of her and making sure she felt comfortable at all times, wasn’t being forward with her or making advances, and here she was mentally undressing him and picturing him in compromising positions with her.
Cameo risked a glance at him. Her gaze collided and locked with his, and the banked heat in his blue eyes said that maybe she wasn’t the only one indulging in fantasies this morning. She shivered as he stared at her, that heat in his eyes building into an inferno that scorched her, had her aching all over and wanting to reach for him.
She wanted to make him come to her and kiss her. Just a kiss. She swore she would stop at that, wasn’t in any condition to be wanting anything else from him. A lie. If he offered her more than a kiss, if he wanted more, then she wouldn’t be able to stop herself.
Cameo rolled her eyes closed and fought to master her own body. This wasn’t like her. She gripped the front of her cream sweater and pulled it away from her chest, needing some air. Maybe her injured leg had given her a fever and she was delirious.
Maybe she was just attracted to Lowe.
Who wouldn’t be?
The man looked like a blond Henry Cavill.
“You feeling all right?” Lowe stepped closer to her and she pulled down a steadying breath, opened her eyes and looked up at him.
“Just a little warm, and I think I slept too long.” She grimaced as she sat up, and thanked him with a smile as he rushed to help her, gently took hold of her arm and eased her upright.
He chuckled, the warm sound rolling over her, sending tingles racing through her as it drew her gaze to his face. Blond Henry Cavill. He was gorgeous, especially when he smiled as he was now, forming those little dimples in his cheeks.
Lowe pressed his palm to her forehead and she almost groaned as she felt the coolness of it. “You are a bit warm. You know I had to have the door open half the night to cool down the cabin. You probably just got a little overheated up here. I’ll get you some water, coffee and food and you’ll feel better.”
He didn’t sound as if he really believed that. He sounded worried again, which made her worry too. What if her leg was infected?
He dropped his hand to her cheek and stared into her eyes. “You’re fine, Cameo. If you’re worried, we should call the air ambulance.”
She quickly shook her head, the thought of leaving sending a jolt of fear through her. She felt safe here, with Lowe. As much as she didn’t want to get him into trouble, pulling him into her problem, she didn’t want to leave him. She looked straight ahead of her at the window that revealed part of the cabin that stood in the middle of the clearing and the world around it. A peaceful world. An uncomplicated world. She liked it here.