Lost in His Arms (8 page)

“No,” she protested. “I was just thinking about what you said.” She ate the last bite of cake, then shoved her plate aside and wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. “Maybe you're right. Maybe I was so used to taking care of myself and my life, I never really gave Richard an opportunity to share in the responsibilities.”

“And maybe if you had attempted to make him share more of the responsibilities, he would have run for the hills, because I never gave him the tools to cope with real life.”

She smiled, and Talbot reveled in its warmth. She had the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. It lit her from within. “So what is all this? A culpability party? The two of us are responsible for Richard's immaturity and he isn't?”

“No.” Talbot returned her smile with one of his own. “No, Richard has to accept his part in who he is—and who he is going to be in the future.” If he
has a future. Unexpectedly, emotion tore through him again, and he felt the burning press of tears in his eyes.

Aware of Elizabeth's gaze on him, steady and knowing, and aware of an uncharacteristic vulnerability, he jumped up from the table and turned his back on her to rinse his plate.

With the water running in the sink, he didn't hear her approach, didn't know she'd left the table and stood just behind him until he felt the warmth of her hand seeping through his shirt.

“Talbot, you aren't in this all alone. I'm here for you—if you need me.”

If he needed her? Heaven help him, right now his need for her positively consumed him. The plate clattered to the stainless-steel bottom of the sink and he whirled around to face her.

In the instant it took for him to reach for her, he knew someplace in the back of his mind that he'd lost control, and he didn't even attempt to gain it back.

Before she had time to protest, before he gave himself an opportunity to think, he wrapped her in his arms and claimed her mouth with his.

He could tell he'd shocked her by the way her body momentarily went rigid against his. But her unyielding stiffness lasted only a mere heartbeat, then she seemed to melt against him.

Her arms, which had hung at her sides, came up
around his neck, and her lips opened beneath his, like a flower blossoming to the warmth of the sun.

Madness. It was utter madness, and the insanity apparently claimed them both. Talbot pulled her more firmly against him, wanting to feel the warmth, the sweet feminine curves of her body against his.

He felt the need to savor every sensation, to capture every nuance of the woman, the kiss and the intimacy of their bodies pressed so close. He knew all too quickly sanity would return and with it regret.

But regret seemed far away as he plundered the sweetness of her mouth, his hands roaming at will up and down the slender curve of her back.

Neither of them spoke, as if knowing a single word, a mere whisper, might shatter the magic of the moment. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, and he could feel her heartbeat crashing against his, a counter-rhythm of desire.

He wanted to sweep her up in his arms, carry her to his room and lose himself in her. He wanted to see her on his bed, her silky skin naked and her honey hair splayed against the blue of his bedspread.

A door slammed someplace in the distance. The front door. “Mom?” Andrew's voice called out.

Talbot released her and she stumbled back from him, her facial expression one of shell-shocked horror. She raised a trembling hand and touched her lips, then turned toward the kitchen door as Andrew and Richard entered.

“The movie stunk. We left after half an hour of suffering,” Richard said. He looked from Talbot to Elizabeth. “Everything all right here?”

“Fine. Everything is just fine. We were just finishing the cleanup in here.” Elizabeth's voice sounded higher-pitched than usual.

Richard turned his gaze again to Talbot. “And have you forgiven me for my stupid remark?” His eyes were the soft brown of contrition.

In a flash, all the love Talbot felt for his brother filled his chest. He nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Emotions are running high. We've all said and done things tonight that were crazy and stupid, things that are best forgotten.”

He knew Elizabeth got his point from the way her shoulders stiffened and emotion flashed in her eyes.

Regret filled him, and he wasn't sure it was a regret that he'd kissed her, or a regret that he'd dismissed the kiss so casually.

“I'm going to hit the sack now. I'm beat.” He murmured a good-night, then left the kitchen and escaped to the privacy of his bedroom.

Once there, he closed his door, but instead of getting into bed, he stood at the window and stared outside into the darkness of the night.

He'd been a fool. Kissing Elizabeth had been the most foolish, thoughtless thing he'd ever done. The taste of her still lingered in his mouth, and her familiar, feminine scent clung to him.

He'd fantasized kissing her many times in the past, but the fantasy hadn't lived up to the reality. She'd been softer, sweeter, hotter than he'd ever imagined. A desire more intense than any he'd ever experienced had rocketed through him as they kissed.

And now, in the wake of that desire, came shame. Flashes of memories whizzed through his head, memories of Richard.

He would always feel the warmth of Richard holding tight to him as they ran away from the pond. “Save me, Talbot. Save me,” Richard had screamed as they'd run from old man North and his gun.

“Don't worry, Richard. I'll never let anything bad happen to you,” Talbot had promised.

He closed his eyes as he remembered the many nights Richard crawled into bed with him after being frightened by a storm or a nightmare.

And Talbot remembered the night he'd had to tell his brother that their parents were dead. Richard had wept like a baby in Talbot's arms, not only grieving the loss, but also fearing the future.

Talbot had assured his brother that everything would be okay and that he would take care of him. Talbot turned away from the window with a sigh of disgust.

And now Richard needed him more than ever. And Richard needed Elizabeth. And what was he, Talbot, doing? Lusting after Elizabeth.

As he undressed for bed, he thought of the flash of hurt that had darkened her eyes, the quick brace of her shoulders when he'd said that everyone had done or said something stupid tonight.

He knew his words had affected Elizabeth like a slap in the face. For he knew she'd been as caught up in the kiss, in the desire, as he had been.

It was better this way, he thought as he climbed into bed. Better that she be wary of him, keep her distance from him. He didn't want to have any more deep talks with her, didn't want to be in her head. He didn't want to share her thoughts or know her dreams. And he didn't want to share his own with her.

It was bad enough she'd nearly witnessed his emotional free fall while they'd been in his bedroom. It had frightened him, how close he'd been to losing it. And he absolutely had to remain strong—for Richard.

The devil in lipstick. He'd invited temptation into his home, and for a brief moment, he'd yielded to her temptation. But no more.

He was not about to sacrifice Richard's well-being for an irrational lust for Elizabeth.

“E
verything all right?” Richard asked as Talbot left the room.

“Fine.” Elizabeth flashed him a smile that felt false and forced. She wondered if her lips looked as bruised and swollen as they felt. She wondered if her face reflected the awesome desire she'd just experienced. “How would you two like some ice-cream cake? It was the reward for winning the pizza bake-off.”

“Me! I want some!” Andrew exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to the tension that had momentarily filled the kitchen. He scooted into a chair at the table. “But I think you should have to say who the winner was.”

“I think we all won,” Richard said before Eliz
abeth could reply. “We had a good time making pizza and laughing together, and so that makes all of us winners.”

“Your dad is right. Everyone's a winner.” Elizabeth busied herself putting pieces of cake on plates, grateful for the activity to take her mind off the miasma of emotions that raged in her.

The kiss had rocked her to her very core, stoked an inferno of desire in her the likes of which she'd never known. Her heart still beat unnaturally fast, and her nerve endings felt electrified.

She sat at the table and sipped a cup of coffee while Richard and Andrew ate their cake and chattered about the inane things important to a nine-year-old boy. She tried to focus on the conversation, but couldn't.

She was filled with Talbot. Her mind, her senses, her heart was alive with him. Her breasts throbbed with the desire to be touched by his fingers, and her stomach ached with the pain of unfulfillment.

And in a single statement, he'd told her exactly what he'd felt about the kiss. It had been a stupid, crazy thing that had happened because emotions were running high.

And what had it been to her? Earth-shattering. Soul-searing. Like coming home after a long absence. And that scared her to death.

“Mom?” The tone of Andrew's voice indicated that he'd tried to get her attention more than once.
She focused on him, guilt tearing through her. “Dad asked you if you wanted to go bowling tomorrow afternoon.” She could tell from her son's eager expression that he wanted her to join them.

“I'd love to go bowling,” she said. She certainly didn't want to stay here with Talbot while Richard and Andrew were gone. She needed to keep as much distance as possible between Talbot and her.

And for the next five days, Talbot appeared to be working just as hard at avoiding being alone with her. In the morning, while Andrew worked with his tutor and Richard disappeared into town by himself, Elizabeth remained in her room or in the kitchen with Rose.

During the times she was alone, she found herself thinking about the conversation she and Talbot had had before that devastating kiss.

Had she contributed to Richard's immaturity by expecting nothing more from him? They say people rose to expectations. By expecting so little from him, had she and Talbot both somehow stymied Richard's growth?

She'd always believed herself to be fiercely independent, and she'd considered that a positive trait. But now she found herself wondering if perhaps she hadn't been a little selfish, as well. She'd never shared her fears, her burdens, her problems with Richard. She'd kept him out of the very private areas of herself because she knew no other way.

However, in those two days in the woods with Talbot, she'd shared more with him than she'd ever dreamed of sharing with Richard.

When Richard had questioned why she needed a night-light in the bedroom, she'd told him she liked to be able to see the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. She'd never breathed a word about the trauma that had left her with a lifetime of fear of the dark. So why had she shared that with Talbot and not with the man who'd been her husband?

She didn't want to know the answer, feared what it might be. All she knew was that Talbot was right: they both had contributed to Richard's lack of maturity in at least a small way.

One other thing became clear to her. Talbot's kiss had confirmed that, although she'd cared about Richard, had desperately wanted to make a family with him, she'd never really loved him.

There had been little passion in their marriage. The kiss from Talbot had evoked more want in her than any lovemaking she and Richard had done.

And in avoiding Talbot for those five days, she found herself spending a lot of time with Andrew and Richard. They went bowling, to the movies and ate ice cream at the quaint little parlor in town.

She was surprised to find a new maturity in Richard. There was a new soberness in his eyes, and he
appeared as if he'd turned a bit more inward and was seeking the man he could be.

She and Andrew had been in the McCarthy home a little more than a week when Richard got them up early for a sunrise horseback ride.

Elizabeth dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a hot-pink sweatshirt. She hurriedly pulled her hair up in a careless ponytail and went without makeup, aware that Richard and Andrew were eagerly awaiting her down by the corral.

Her heart leaped as she reached the corral and saw Talbot already mounted on a magnificent black stallion. He was in a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck sweater that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders.

Apparently Richard intended this as a complete family affair, she thought, trying to avoid looking at Talbot.

“Do you know how to ride?” Talbot asked, his voice the cool monotone he'd used when speaking to her ever since the kiss.

She grabbed the saddle horn of the mount Richard held for her and pulled herself up and into the saddle. “Foster family number five had horses,” she explained. “I tried to ride every day for the six months I was there.”

“And up you go,” Richard said, helping Andrew into the saddle of the small horse the boy rode whenever he came to visit.

The morning sun was just peeking over the horizon, sending out brilliant pinks and oranges across the sky as they set off from the corral. The leaves on the trees were just beginning to change colors, donning splendid gold and rust tones.

They rode at a leisurely pace, the horses shaking their heads and snorting with eagerness in the brisk morning air.

“It's going to be a beautiful day,” Talbot said, and he offered a quicksilver smile to Elizabeth.

The smile broke the ice, the tension Elizabeth felt had existed between them for the past week. “Yes, it is,” she agreed, hoping they could get past that moment of insanity and return to the camaraderie and friendliness they'd enjoyed before the kiss.

“Won't be many more days warm enough for an early-morning ride,” Richard observed. He smiled at Andrew. “This winter we'll build the biggest snowman in the world.”

Hope. Somewhere in the past week, Richard had found hope for the future. Elizabeth's heart expanded. She knew it was vital for Richard to maintain a positive attitude in the battle ahead. She hoped he and Andrew had lots of winters together.

It was easy to feel positive as the four of them rode across the green pastures in the sweet-scented air. Elizabeth rode just behind the three men, her gaze lingering on Talbot.

He looked more relaxed, more at ease than she'd
seen him in the past week. He was a natural in the saddle, sitting tall and easily commanding the powerful horse beneath him with a mere flick of the reins.

As always, just looking at him evoked myriad emotions. She could no longer deny that she was overwhelmingly drawn to him on a physical level. He stirred her in a way no other man had ever done. And, as much as she hated to admit it, something about him touched her heart.

They rode for about thirty minutes, and when they reached the peak of a hill, Richard said he wanted to talk to them and asked that they all dismount.

They got off their horses and stood in a circle, their attention focused on Richard. “I just wanted to thank you all for this time we've had together,” he began. “You'll never know how much this has meant to me.”

Talbot frowned, obviously ill at ease about his brother's heartfelt thanks. “Richard…”

Richard held up a hand. “Let me finish,” he said firmly. “I know I haven't been the best brother, husband or father.” He wrapped an arm around Andrew's neck and pulled the boy close against him. “But I want you to know that you are the most important people in my life, and I'll never be able to repay you for being here for me.”

“You don't have to repay us,” Elizabeth said,
emotion rising to tighten her chest. “We love you, Richard.”

“I know. And that's why I've scheduled the surgery for first thing Monday morning. The surgery will be done in Kansas City. The doctor didn't want me to wait any longer, and I want to get well—I need to get well so I can prove to you all that I'm worth the effort.”

“You don't have to prove anything to anyone,” Talbot said, his voice deeper than usual.

“Dad, I think you're the best in the world,” Andrew put in. Elizabeth's heart nearly exploded as father and son embraced.

Please God, she pleaded silently. Please let Richard come through the surgery with flying colors. Don't make my son live the rest of his life without a father. Don't take Richard from us.

“Hey, Dad,” Andrew said as Richard released him. “I hate to be a pain, but I've got to go to the bathroom.”

“I'll take him back,” Elizabeth said.

“No, you wait here. I'll take him back to the house,” Richard insisted as he and Andrew remounted. “We'll be back in a little while.”

Before Elizabeth could formulate a reasonable protest, Richard and Andrew rode off, leaving her alone with Talbot.

It was ridiculous how her heart instantly began banging a new rhythm. Ridiculous and irritating.

“So it sounds like we'll be out of your hair as of Monday,” she finally said to break the tense silence that had sprung up between them. “If Richard is having the surgery in Kansas City, then Andrew and I will go back home.”

“I haven't minded having you and Andrew in the house,” he replied, his eyes dark and glittering. “The ten days you've been here, the house hasn't seemed quite so big, not quite as…” He frowned. “Not quite as empty.”

For just a moment, she'd thought he was going to say lonely. But that was crazy. Strong, independent men like Talbot didn't get lonely. Just like strong, independent women like her didn't get lonely.

But she
was
lonely, and scared, and aching with the need to be held by somebody as strong and independent and lonely as her.

From the moment Richard had told her about his brain tumor, Elizabeth had remained strong. She'd been strong for Richard, strong for her son, displaying optimism and hope and refusing to face the fear that hid in the shadows of her heart. But now Richard's surgery was to take place in two days, and her fear stepped out of the shadows and into the harsh light of the morning sun.

“Talbot?” Her voice was shaky, and to her horror, the vision of him blurred as her eyes filled with
unexpected tears. She said nothing more, but merely took a step forward, her arms reaching out to him.

 

Talbot saw her disintegrating before his very eyes. Her eyes, those sky-blue eyes, filled with tears that trekked down her cheeks, and her lower lip trembled with despair.

He knew that to touch her, reach out to her was wrong, but he couldn't help himself. He felt her need for him, and he couldn't deny his own need for her.

He gathered her into his arms and breathed in the sweet scent of her hair as he fought the emotion that tore through his chest.

Whatever control she'd had broke as she clung to him, deep, silent sobs shaking her body against his. He held her tightly, felt her grief, her fear, and wished he could take it from her so she wouldn't have to suffer. Her tears broke his heart—a heart that was already half-broken by his brother's plight.

“Shh,” he whispered against her ear, his hands rubbing her slender back in an attempt to soothe. She didn't make a sound, although her emotions dampened the front of his shirt and racked her body with tremors.

“I'm sorry,” she said through her tears, as if embarrassed by her display. “I'm so sorry.” She tried to pull away, but he held her fast.

“Don't be sorry,” he said. “Let it go. Let it all out.”

Once again she leaned into him, as if not possessing the strength to step away. Within minutes, her sobbing had stopped, but still she remained in his embrace.

He stroked a hand down her hair, felt the warmth of the sun residing in the silky strands. “Better?” he asked softly.

She nodded. “I'm so scared,” she said after a moment had passed. She looked up at him, those blue eyes of hers seeming to see deep inside him. “Are you scared, Talbot?”

He hesitated. He had never confessed fear to anyone. Not even Rose, who knew him better than anyone, knew of the fear he'd suffered first as a young man responsible for the much younger Richard, and now, when faced with his brother's illness.

“Yes, I'm scared,” he confessed. “To tell the truth, I'm terrified.”

She placed her palms on either side of his face. “And when you're scared, who holds you? When the darkness is everywhere around you, who makes you feel safe? Who makes you feel as if eventually the darkness will lift?”

“Nobody. I've never needed anyone. Until now.” He dipped his head and touched his lips to hers. It was the softest of kisses, a mere whisper of a touch.

She moaned. It was not the moan of a woman
gathering her emotions, nor was it the sound of a woman in anguish. It came from the very depths of her, and it was a moan of desire.

The kiss Talbot had meant to keep light and uncomplicated suddenly became a kiss of searing want. Her hands circled his neck as his tongue touched her lower lip, seeking entry.

And she allowed him in, opening her mouth to him as her body molded to his. Reason faded as Talbot responded to her smell, her taste, and gave himself over to the sensual volcano that holding her evoked in him.