Dancing With the Devil (19 page)

She walked straight up the stairs, changed into her nightgown and climbed into bed. The sun hadn’t even set, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was sleep, and if she didn’t wake up for three days, that would be just fine.

Minutes ticked by, but sleep would not come. Her eyes were closed, her blanket tucked all around her and her pillow fluffed. Nothing helped. Instead of settling down, her brain continued to flash images at lightning speed until it seemed the whole room was spinning around her.

This past week had been more than just a little overwhelming. There’d been so much confusion and frustration, but in between, there’d been a few moments where everything seemed perfect. Funny how those moments only occurred when there was no one else around except her and Deacon.

She’d tried so hard to put him out of her mind these past months, to forget his crooked smile, how he always smelled of sunshine and the way his arms made her feel warm, secure and safe.

A single tear slid out the corner of her eye. Oh, who was she kidding? She would never get him out of her mind, because doing that meant shutting him out of her heart and no matter how hard she tried not to, she still loved him.

It was just her luck that the only man she had ever loved would be the one man who couldn’t love her back. How much more pathetic could she get?

Pathetic or not, crying never solved problems. Thinking solved problems.

Instead of focusing on what she
hoped
to be true, she needed to focus on what she
knew
to be true.

“Think with your head,” she muttered, “not with your heart.”

Deacon couldn’t help who he was. He hadn’t chosen his parents any more than she had. He’d been raised to know nothing but darkness and fear, and while he wasn’t terribly keen on people in general, he’d never been cruel to her.

Until he took up with Salma. The pain of that night was as sharp today as it had been when she’d first found out.

Now he was trying to convince her that he’d done nothing wrong with Salma. Why would he make her think something so horrible, then turn around and deny it? Once again, it was a battle between her head and her heart.

Rhea frowned. Deacon made her feel things she’d never imagined and had certainly never heard any other women in town whisper about. His simple smile made her pulse quicken, the touch of his hand sent tremors racing through her body, and when he kissed her…

Rhea squeezed her eyes tighter and groaned. God help her, but when he kissed her, it was pure heaven.
Time stopped, the earth spun faster and it was as though they were the only two beings in the universe.

Out the window, the sun began its surrender to the pull of the moon, leaving the room filled with shifting shadows. And there, in the growing darkness, her brain and her heart finally came to a compromise: if she couldn’t stop loving Deacon, then she needed to stop fighting it and start accepting it.

She knew what to expect this time. She knew he wasn’t going to stay, and she knew she would probably never see him again once he left.

Knowing this, could she love him, freely and without expectation, and still have the strength to keep on going after he left? Her heart was going to be broken again, no matter what. So long as she knew it, and prepared herself for it this time, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Her sensible side would simply have to protect her other side.

It wasn’t going to be easy, but then, what ever was?

The scuffing of boots sounded a warning on the stairs. Rhea pulled her hand off Deacon’s pillow and buried it beneath her own. Her heart thundered against her ribs, and her stomach flipped over twice. Maybe she should pretend to be asleep.

The door creaked open, then shut with a click.

“Rhea?” His whisper floated over the air and settled against her skin.

Don’t say anything. Pretend to sleep. Close your eyes.

“Mm-hmm.”
Idiot.

“I brought supper. Have you eaten?”

Say yes.
“No.”

He moved toward the bed and set the basket down beside her. “Do you mind if I light the lamp?”

Say yes.
“No.”

Brilliant. Now he was going to see her puffy eyes,
messy hair and blotchy complexion. If that didn’t send him screaming back to Hell, nothing would.

He struck a match to the wick, but kept the light low. Then he toed off his boots, slipped out of his jacket and climbed up onto the bed, sitting Indian-style at the foot.

Each movement seemed to be a cautious and slow decision, but he never winced or complained. As he began pulling things from the basket, Rhea pushed herself up to sit, too.

The slant of the ceiling prevented her from leaning up against the wall, so she moved up to the head of the bed and adopted Deacon’s position, setting her pillow on her lap to use as a table of sorts. She didn’t bother trying to wrap the blanket around her this time; there wasn’t enough light in the room to cause either one of them any embarrassment anyway.

Besides, Deacon seemed fairly intent on keeping his eyes fixed on anything but her, so what did it matter?

That was fine, because it gave Rhea the opportunity to watch him without being discovered.

His face was smudged with dirt, and the blood stains on his shirt had darkened almost to black. His hair was all mussed and looking very unlike him. In fact, Rhea hadn’t seen his hat since yesterday at the lake. That was odd. Just because she didn’t like it, didn’t mean she expected him to stop wearing it.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked quietly.

“Stayed out at Colin’s for a while,” he answered. “Thought you might want some time alone.”

“Thank you. How are your…cuts?”

“Sore.” Still, he wouldn’t look at her.

The savory aroma of thick beef stew drifted out of the basket, mixed with the warm scent of fresh bread and sour apple pie. If her stomach hadn’t chosen that
exact moment to growl like a bear, she would have protested at how much food there was.

Instead, she accepted the bowl Deacon filled for her and dug in.

Five swallows later, she couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sticking her fork through a piece of meat. “I have no right to be angry with you, when all you’ve done since you got back is try to help me.”

Deacon’s fork froze over his bowl. He bounced it a few times, then set it down, wiped his mouth and looked up at her. Finally.

“
I’m
sorry.” He sighed slowly. “Sometimes I think it would have been better if we’d never met.”

“Oh.” Rhea fought to swallow the pain his words inflicted. “I’ve never thought that, not for a second.”

“Rhea.” His Adam’s apple bobbed hard. “I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know that,” she said. “And I don’t mean to let you.” She shook her head, trying desperately to keep the tremble from her voice. “It’s okay. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this afternoon, and it seems to have helped.”

“How’s that?”

“Well,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound as foolish as she did. “The sensible side of my brain has always known this wasn’t a fairy tale and that there would never be a happily-ever-after for us.”

He twirled his fork in his bowl. “What about the other side of your brain?”

She choked out a half laugh, half sob. “That would be the not-so-sensible side.”

“Yeah, that side.” His voice was quiet as he watched his fork twirl.

“Oh, it believes there’s hope for us yet.” She scooped
up a forkful of potato and stuffed it in her mouth, but she could have been eating the bowl itself for all the taste it had.

Regardless, she had to project the image of sensible control; otherwise she was going to lose herself in those endless blue eyes of his.

“Now that my sensible side has finally stepped forward again,” she said, “I think I know what I need to do.”

“Yeah?” He pushed his bowl away and leaned sideways so his bent elbow rested on the bed and his head rested in his hand. “Maybe you better explain it to me, because I’m stumped.”

“You won’t poke fun at me?”

His only answer was a smile of regret, and before Rhea could stop her tongue from moving, she’d already started talking. “Here’s the thing.”

She shifted again, fighting against her nightgown, and then moved back to her original position, each repositioning making her more uncomfortable, more nervous and more uncertain.

“What’s the thing?”

She could do this. She just had to stop staring at him, stop imagining herself wrapped in his arms and force her sensible side to stand up and be heard.

If she kept it matter-of-fact, it would be easier to explain.
Stop being such a ninny, and just say it.
It couldn’t possibly mean anything to him, anyway, so what difference did it make if she admitted it out loud?

“Right.” Could he see her blushing in the dim light? Lord, she hoped not. “It’s no secret I, um, well, surely you must know—”

“Say it.” His voice was like velvet. Gone was any sense of mirth or teasing, and the way he looked at her…even in the low lamp light, his gaze burned right through her.

Rhea shuddered. Don’t look at him. Don’t look…

She lifted her chin, locked her gaze on his and exhaled.

“I love you.” There, she’d said it. She’d never said it out loud to him before, and now all she wanted to do was throw up. Or cry. Both, maybe. And for the love of God, why was he smiling at her that way? If he made one joke at her expense, one teasing word, she’d finish the job she’d started with that blasted Winchester.

Lucky for him, he didn’t make a single sound. He didn’t even move, just lay there with that stupid smile on his face.

“Anyway,” she hurried to add, willing her voice to hold steady and not crack the way it did in her mind. “What you did with Salma was…well, that’s something I don’t think I will ever forget, but considering I’ve roped you into a marriage you don’t want, Salma is something I’ll have to learn to live with.”

“I told you—”

She shook her head and charged ahead, leaving the rest of his words unspoken.

“Aside from my own daydreams, I never had any reason to believe we would have a life together, especially given where you come from. You never once said anything to me that would indicate it’s what you wanted, and I know…I know the time we’ve spent together, before and now, is not the same for you as it is for me.”

He pushed up from his elbow and sat straight across from her, his smile faded but not gone.

“No matter what’s happened between us, Deacon, you don’t owe me anything, and yet you’ve stepped in and are pretending to be my husband when you could have just as easily left me to face the consequences of my lie alone.”

As she rambled on, he gathered their still-full bowls and tucked them back inside the basket.

She shuffled closer to the wall, feeling suddenly very self-conscious. “Now that I’ve had time to think on this, it’s helped me see how wrong I’ve been about everything. I’ve known since the first day that there would never be a lifetime commitment between us, but still, I’ve been acting like a silly little girl, and I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath. “From now on, I will do my very best to stop carrying on like a lunatic where you’re concerned.”

Bending over beside the bed, he set the basket on the floor, winced slightly, then straightened.

“A lunatic?”

“Yes.”
Nod. Nod again. Make him believe you mean what you’re saying.
“I tend to let my emotions get the better of me when it comes to you, so I’m going to try very hard to stop that.”

“But you said you couldn’t help how you feel about me.”

“I can’t.”
Nod again.
“But if I would just let my head rule my heart, instead of the other way around, then at least I might be able to make some sense of all this.”

She wasn’t making any sense at all.

“What I mean is that I can’t stop myself from feeling…what I feel, but I
can
stop myself from hoping for more than what this is.”

His eyes opened in wide confusion, so Rhea plunged on.

“We’re here, together, and no matter what’s happened in the past, I’m going to try and make the best of this situation until you leave again. Or until Judge Hicks has me sent to prison for forging our marriage certificate.” She tried to laugh, but failed miserably.

“You’re not going to prison.” As she watched in stunned silence, he set to work on unfastening his trousers.

The heat from her embarrassment instantly tripled. She flopped down on the bed and twisted over on her side to face the wall.

“Y-you don’t know that,” she managed to stutter.

A few seconds later, he blew out the lamp and crawled in beside her. The bed creaked beneath his weight, then creaked again as he shifted closer.

She held her breath, waiting for him to settle, but he didn’t. Instead, he pushed one arm beneath her, the other around her, and eased her back against his chest.

Rhea’s whole body stiffened. This wasn’t what she’d planned, and it sure as shootin’ wasn’t going to help her sensible side stay in control.

Deacon sighed softly into her hair. “Say it again.”

“Say what?” Why did he have to hold her this way? And why was her traitorous body melting against his instead of staying rigid, as she wanted it to?

“Say it,” he repeated.

His scent tickled her nose, his arms easing every worry from her muscles. Rhea couldn’t help herself. She snuggled deeper into his arms until it was impossible to get any closer. Heaven itself couldn’t be better than this.

“Rhea.” Barely a whisper.

It meant ripping another piece of her heart out, but that was a small price to pay to have him hold her that way.

She whispered it softly, barely loud enough for her own ears to hear. “I love you.”

He breathed a smile against her hair, and within moments, his arms relaxed as he drifted off to sleep.

Wrapped in his warmth, it didn’t take long for Rhea’s mind to finally settle into that wonderful pre-sleep fog where everything is the way it should be. As her body finally gave in to sleep, one last thought slipped through like a thief in the night.