Linda Castle (21 page)

“I don’t want a city girl and I damn sure don’t want a viper like Violet Ashland. I thought we had all that settled. I want you.” One brow arched. “And I will have you.”

“
I don’t want you!
Now go away. I don’t ever want to see you again.” She tore her gaze from him and stared at her lap.

Please, God, help me send him away.

She could not stand much more of this. She was weakening. If Brooks didn’t leave soon she was afraid she would admit how much she cared for him. That would be a disaster.

It would ruin his life.

Dr. Levy pulled out the chair next to Marisa and sat down. Her long navy skirt draped over the wheel of the invalid’s chair. Clell and Logan turned and left the room. “I’m afraid you will be seeing a lot of Mr. James from now on, Marisa.”

“Why?” Marisa shoved the material off the wheel.

“I have hired Mr. James to help out with your care,” Dr. Levy said cheerfully.

“What?” Marisa reeled backward as if ice water had been tossed into her face.

“I had your full permission, if you will recall. It is done. Mr. James is going to assist me with your treatment. You might say he is going to be your own personal nurse for as long as you are here.”

Marisa glanced at Brooks.

“Finish your breakfast, Marisa. We have a lot of work
to do.” A glow of satisfaction and triumph gleamed in Brooks’s blue eyes.

“Dr. Levy, you can’t do this!” Marisa shivered at the thought of being with him every day. “You don’t know what you are doing!” She turned, looking for Clell and Logan, but they had disappeared. “Get Clell and Logan. I want to go home.”

“Sorry, honey, but I believe I just saw Clell and Logan going down the road.”

“What?” Marisa’s frantic gaze searched the road beyond the open doors. “They are letting you do this?”

“Yes, honey. They know I want only the best for you. They are taking the buggy back to the station.” Brooks winked at her. “I suggested they enjoy the city while you and I are working.”

“I won’t do it. I won’t have you here.” Marisa glared at him. She felt small and helpless.

“Sorry, honey, but you don’t have a lot of choice.” Brooks slipped into the chair beside her. “Now will you eat, or will I feed you?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, but I would.”

She wanted to slap him.

B
rooks stood waist deep in the warm water as two nurses eased Marisa into his arms. Steam rose up from the stone-lined bath.

“This is the craziest thing I ever heard of.” Water crept up her thin cotton shift, turning it nearly opaque, while little clouds of steam swirled around her face.

Brooks nodded to the nurses, and they left without uttering a word. Now there was only the steaming pool, heated by a huge furnace underneath the stone floor, and the strong arms that held her captive.

The arms of the man I love too much…

“It’s not as crazy as you think. There have been good results using water therapy. I told you before, honey, we are going to get through this together.”

Marisa willed herself to ignore the way his shirt was becoming plastered to his wide, muscled chest like a second skin. “There is nothing to get through, Brooks. I am a
cripple.
And I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“So you keep telling me.” He positioned her on one of the stone steps built into the side of the pool. Then he moved to her feet and started rotating one of her legs through the water as if she were kicking in a great circle.

“Go away, please. Just leave me in peace, Brooks.” She felt helplessness mingled with angry frustration.

She was trapped. Trapped in a body that would no longer do her bidding.

There was nothing she could do but submit to him. She couldn’t get up and walk out. But damn it all, if he would just let her go she could
crawl.

“This isn’t fair,” she grumbled. “Let me go.”

“Life rarely is fair, darlin’,” he agreed. He continued to perform the ritual of moving her leg through the steaming water.

His patience was more infuriating than his stubbornness.

“No, I don’t mean that. I mean it is not fair for you to keep me here. I am practically a prisoner now that you have charmed Dr. Levy into doing what you want.”

Brooks looked at Marisa and grinned. “‘Charmed’?” He shook his head from side to side and picked up her other leg. “I hardly think I charmed her. I have pleaded with her for weeks.” Methodically, he repeated the movements. “And I had to prove to her that I was competent. She put me through a series of tests and training sessions before she would allow me to do this.”

The knowledge that her doctor had not abandoned her care gave Marisa some comfort. And she couldn’t blame Dr. Levy for letting the cat out of the bag—that had been Logan’s doing.

“Oh, I wish I could punch you in the nose.” She thrashed her arms, trying to reach Brooks with her hand, but the distance was too far. Warm waves lapped farther up her body, soaking her chest and wetting the ends of her hair.

“Good, that’s good. Keep trying to move,” he encouraged. “I’ll tell you what, honey. You be a good girl, do
your exercises, and if you still want to punch me in the nose, I’ll let you.”

“Really?” Marisa glared at him through narrowed eyes. “When? That is something I would enjoy.”

He laughed aloud. “All right. How about right after dinner?” It felt so good to see some of the fire returning to her spirit. He stopped moving her leg and began to massage her muscles as Dr. Levy had instructed. The outline of her breasts kept distracting him. The dusky rose nipples beneath the clinging wet shift drew his eyes like a magnet.

Marisa stilled.

He glanced up at her to see if anything was wrong. Their gazes locked in an unexpected current of longing.

“Don’t look at me like that—not now—not when I am like…this.”

“I love you,” he said softly.

“I don’t want you to,” she whispered, and glanced away. She tried to watch only his fingers as his hand kneaded her flesh.

She flushed and drew in a ragged breath, hypnotized by his hands and his continued declaration of love. Sure fingers worked their way up her leg, past her knee, beyond her thigh.

She remembered the night he had undressed her. His hands had been hidden beneath her skirt. She remembered the way it had felt…

The sodden fabric of her shift clung to her skin. She couldn’t feel what he was doing, but she could see it. His palm slid over the slight swell of her belly.

“You are so beautiful, Marisa. I have missed you so much.”

“Stop it, stop torturing me.” Her voice was full of pent-up passion.

“I am not torturing you, Marisa. I am trying to show you that I love
you.
I don’t love your ability to walk. I—love—” he punctuated each word with a kiss to her belly “—you.”

Something thick and hot threatened to choke off her breath. She wanted to curl into a little ball and hide from the emotions that were clawing at her insides, trying to break free.

“Marisa, I know you can feel this. Maybe not here—” he touched her hip “—but you can feel it here.” He laid his hand over her heart. “And your heart is the most important place to feel anything. Your heart is where I want to be.”

“Oh, Brooks, just go away,” she whispered. “Please leave me alone. You are making this harder—please stop.”

“No, I won’t stop until you admit that you love me and end all this nonsense about breaking our engagement.” He moved closer to the stone steps and slid down beside her. Waves lapped over them both as he put his hands around her waist and lifted her body. He eased her down until she was straddling him beneath the steamy water.

He gazed up at her face, only inches away from his own. “Say it, Marisa—say I love you.”

Images of how they had coupled in love and passion assaulted her. She remembered the feeling of his body inside her, the way she had responded to his lust and how she had answered it with her own need.

Without conscious thought, she reached out and wrapped her hand around the nape of his neck. She drew herself close and parted her lips. A feeling like an electric shock surged through her when he kissed her. Slowly she pulled away and rested her head on his strong shoulder.

“All right, I love you. Damn it—damn you! Is that what you wanted to hear? I love you. But as God is my witness, I will never marry you.”

“Why?” He nuzzled her cheek as he held her against him. His hand stroked big circles on her back. “Why should this change anything between us?”

“Are you crazy? It changes everything. I can’t allow you to marry a woman who can’t even stand at your side, much less make love to you.” Her words were strangled by the image of Violet’s poisonous smile.

Brooks tilted up her head and forced her to face him. “Honey, I wouldn’t care if you crawled on your belly to the altar. It has taken me too damn long to realize how much I care for you. I am not going to lose you now.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” Hot tears were suddenly streaming down her face. It was the first time she had cried. She cursed herself for weeping in front of Brooks, for allowing him to see how weak and frightened she was. “Life would be unbearable for you. You would come to hate me for allowing you to saddle yourself to a cripple.”

“Marisa, you said you trusted me. Was that a lie?” His voice was smooth and strong.

“No. I do trust you,” she sobbed.

“If you trusted me and yourself and the good Lord, then you wouldn’t fight me so hard. Can’t you trust me enough to know my own mind? Trust me to love you and to take care of you.”

“I don’t want you to be my caretaker—I wanted you to be my partner in life.” Wrenching sobs shook her body.

“Can’t I be both?” His voice rolled over her like the curtain of steam surrounding them. It leached away her will to oppose him.

“It wouldn’t be an equal partnership,” she sobbed. “It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

He kissed her salty tears. “Fair? I should’ve known an O’Bannion would be determined to be fair. Oh, honey…do you think any of this has been about fairness?” He was silent for a moment. “All right, Marisa, see if you think this suits your sense of fair play.”

“What?” She sniffed and lifted her chin a tiny bit, trying to be strong and
fair.

A warm rush of love burst through him. “I’ll make you a deal. You agree to let me help you. If you see any improvement, no matter how small, you will marry me.”

She narrowed her eyes and stared at him. “No. That is still not fair.”

He frowned and thought some more. “All right, how about this. If you can move your legs you will marry me.”

“No.”

“Then what would suit your sense of fairness?”

“If I can stand at your side. Only then will I marry you.”

“All or nothing?”

“That’s about it.”

“How long will you give it?” His brows had knitted together in a frown.

Her own brow furrowed as she thought about how long she could endure without breaking. “No more than six weeks. Any longer just wouldn’t be—”

“I know—” he cut her off “—
fair.
” He smiled at her stubbornness. “All right, honey, you’ve got a deal. Six weeks it is.” He prayed six weeks would be enough.

“That’s not all, Brooks.”

“What now?” A chill ran up his spine.

“If there is no improvement, you must agree to go
away and forget about me.” Her voice was flat with determination.

He stroked strands of damp hair back from her face. “I will go away and leave you alone, darling, but know this—I will never stop loving you. And I will never, ever forget you.”

Marisa regretted her decision almost immediately. The look of hope in Brooks’s eyes tore at her soul every day. She didn’t want him to hope and she wasn’t sure she could live with his disappointment.

Even though she longed to believe there was a chance she might recover the use of her legs, doubts nagged at her. And Violet’s face came to her in dreams, taunting nightmares that broke her heart.

Days had gone by and nothing had happened to make her more optimistic. Today she was lying on her belly on a thick padded bench with a sheet over her nude body. Brooks gently rubbed her back and kneaded her flesh with hands that made her pulse quicken.

“That feels good,” she admitted.

“I’m glad you like it.” He gingerly touched the skin around the faint bruise on her spine, where the mare had struck her. The flesh was still slightly discolored in an area larger than his splayed hand. The darker imprint of the horseshoe was just barely visible on her soft skin.

“Does that hurt?” He gently rubbed over the bruised area, wincing each time the image of her being trampled by the horse rushed through his mind.

“No.”

He shrugged off the cold chill of disappointment. He would be strong enough and certain enough for both of them. “Now for your legs.” Brooks slid the sheet up over
her back and folded it upward to expose her slender, well-shaped legs. “You are a tempting sight, Marisa.”

“Don’t tease me,” she whispered.

“I am not teasing. You are more sensual than you can possibly imagine.” The dusky twilight added a measure of romance to their ritual. He swallowed his desire and focused on the task of rubbing her legs.

Marisa assumed he was still rubbing her body, but when his hands had crossed the invisible barrier at her waist she ceased to be aware of his magical touch.

In a way it was a kindness.

Each time she felt his strong fingers, warm and pliant against her flesh, she cringed inside. How she yearned to know the pleasure of his lovemaking again.

“Can you feel that, honey?” His deep voice rumbled through her. The timbre made her belly quiver.

“No.” She turned her head and stared out the wide, six-over-six windows. In the dusk a timid doe was creeping toward the flowering shrubs at the edge of the stone patio.

Brooks smiled when he saw the look of wonder flit across Marisa’s face. He was grateful for the momentary distraction of the deer. Each day when he stroked and rubbed Marisa’s body the way Dr. Levy had trained him to do, his own body became taut and hard as stone with his passion for her.

He wanted her. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

His desire had not diminished because of her accident. If only he could make her understand. And he wasn’t sure what she would think of him if he revealed his yearning.

Would she be disgusted with him?

He lifted her leg at the knee and rotated her ankle in his hand. There had to be some way to get over this awkwardness
between them. He searched his mind for a way to let her know that he still found her attractive. Her injury had not changed his perceptions of her one bit.

While he rotated her ankle in his hand, there was the slightest bit of resistance in her normally unresponsive muscles. He frowned, wondering if he had imagined it, since his mind had been wandering. He stroked the delicate bones of her foot.

A muscle in her instep twitched.

Hope flared inside his chest.

“Are you sure you can’t feel anything?”

“I’m sure.” Marisa lifted her head and turned enough to look at him. “Are you ready to admit you were wrong?”

“About what?” He eased her leg down and grasped her shoulders to help her turn so she could face him. He wanted to shout the news to her, but decided he shouldn’t say anything until he discussed it with Dr. Levy.

“About our deal. It isn’t making any difference.” She looked up at him with sad, serious eyes. The twilight made them look bottomless.

“Are you trying to get out of our agreement?”

“Well…” she began.

He cocked a brow and folded his arms across his chest. “I thought O’Bannions always kept their word.”

“We do,” she snapped. Her chin elevated in that stubborn way he liked so much. “I have never weaseled out of a deal in my life.”

“Glad to hear it, because I have not even begun to make you work.” He leaned down to plant a kiss on her defiant little chin.

She swore she wasn’t going to respond, but even as she made the silent vow her arms raised and she clung to him.
The hair curling beneath her fingers felt so soft, so alive, it brought a lump to her throat.

Brooks cupped her breast beneath the sheet. He caressed her, warming her flesh with his own palm. “Honey…I want you,” he whispered as he nipped at the lobe of her ear.

“You can’t want me anymore.”

“Oh, but I do.” He raised his head enough to look at her. Passion turned her eyes a smoky gray. “You want me, too. I can see it in your face.”