Always a Lady (14 page)

"Case, open your mouth, sweetheart," she whispered, using the endearment without thought.

He obeyed without opening his eyes. Lily slipped the tiny pills into his mouth, grabbed the glass of water from his bedside table, pressed it to his lips and gently tilted it.

"Take a sip," she urged. "It's only water. It'll help you sleep."

Lily tipped the glass as Case drank thirstily, unknowingly swallowing the pills along with the water he was gulping greedily. She set the glass back on the table, slipped her arm out from beneath his head, letting it fall gently back onto his pillow.

"Get some sleep," she whispered against his ear and then she ran her fingertip beneath his lower lip, catching the tiny drip of water that lingered and wondered at the ache in her heart as she resisted the urge to taste the moisture where it lay.

He turned and murmured against the palm of her hand and Lily knew that by morning, he would remember none of this. It was just as well.

She straightened his covers, letting her eyes gaze greedily on his bare chest and broad shoulders. Even in the darkness they were visible against the ivory sheen of the bedclothes.

Something was happening to her. Lily knew it. She'd stopped trying to deny it. She was slowly but surely falling in love with Case Longren, and it could only end in disaster for her.

She had thought that she loved Todd. But the feelings she'd had when she'd been with him were nothing to the curl in the pit of her stomach that appeared whenever she saw Case. He made her hot and cold all over . . . all at the same time . . . always.

She had only to look up into that face, look at the strong ruggedness of his features, the thick, jet black hair that lay across his forehead in a constant state of windblown abandon, and those eyes . . . pieces of the wide Oklahoma sky piercing into her soul, and she wanted to lie down beside him and never get up. If only she'd met Case Longren first. If only he'd been the man she was engaged to when she'd had her accident. If only . . . Lily sighed. If-onlies were for dreamers, and she didn't believe in dreams anymore.

She tiptoed back to her makeshift pallet, wrapped herself in the blanket and curled into a ball of misery, waiting for morning to come.

She was still awake when the first hint of dawn slipped between the sheer curtains hanging from the window in Case's room. Swallowing repeatedly at the huge lump that hung in the back of her throat, she allowed herself one last look at Case before she crept from the room. It would have to be enough to last her. She didn't dare risk having him wake up. He would have had her in bed before she could say maybe.

Lily's shower was swift, her toilet haphazard, as she pulled her swath of hair back away from her face, twisting it into a loose knot at the nape of her neck and fastening it with a couple of long, decorative hair combs. She grabbed a fresh shirt from a hanger—its mint green stripes a cool, crisp addition to her no-nonsense hairdo—a clean pair of Levi's, and a pair of canvas deck shoes and dressed in a hurry. She wanted to fix Case some breakfast and take it up before the men arrived for their morning meal. It wouldn't be out of the ordinary for someone to have a meal in bed after a day like Case had had.

At least that's what she kept telling herself as she carried the steaming tray of food all the way up the stairs and into his room.

"It's about time you woke up," she said cheerfully as she peeked into the half-open door and saw Case sitting up in bed, poking at his ribs as if testing his stomach muscles for soreness.

Case looked up in surprise to see Lily carrying a tray toward him. He hadn't expected to see her so soon, and he certainly hadn't expected to see her smiling.

"What's this?" he asked suspiciously.

"Breakfast," she answered, ignoring the look of shock on his face. She knew men. They were all alike. Tough as nails when it suited them, and babies one and all when they were sick or hurt.

"In bed?"

His voice rose somewhere between one and two octaves and he looked around, halfway expecting to see Duff poke his head through the doorway and laugh at him. Real men didn't eat breakfast in bed! At least none of the men Case had ever known.

He didn't know whether to be happy about the fact that he didn't have to get up and maneuver down the stairs in front of all the men, or be embarrassed by the fact that Lily was here with his food.

"Smooth down your covers," she ordered, and carefully placed the tray down on his lap after he'd hurried to do her bidding.

"Now, do you need anything else?" she asked, letting her eyes feast on the sight of Case, with his sleep-ruffled hair, bedroom eyes gazing at her from under heavy lids, and the long, long length of him hidden beneath the covers over his feet and legs.

Case grinned and picked up his fork, sniffing appreciatively at the array of food in front of him.

"Do you really expect me to answer that?" he teased, running an appreciative look slowly up and down her slender body.

Lily blushed and made a quick pivot as she darted for the door. "Well, you're certainly feeling better this morning," she grumbled. "If you're back to hinting at stuff like that, you're just fine."

"Where are you going, Lily love," Case yelled. "Aren't you going to feed me?"

"You can't possibly want me to put that food where I'm thinking, mister," Lily muttered, as she made a beeline out the doorway.

His laughter followed her down the hall, down the stairs, and all the rest of the day inside her heart.

The week passed in a flurry of renewed activity. Case had supervised the rest of the week's work from the sidelines, careful not to get his stitches torn or dirty. He had no intention of undoing the work the doctor had done and go through a repeat of his trip to the hospital. Tough he may be, but needles he hated.

Lily dodged most of his attempts to get her alone, and then she suffered in silence when he would eventually give up, unaware that she watched him walk away with his name on her lips.

On Saturday, it was time for Lily's weekly trip to town. Case had gone to the hospital to get his stitches removed and although the day had continually threatened rain, she decided to make the trip alone. She'd been so many times since her arrival that the store manager had begun calling her by her first name every time she walked into the store.

She'd taken the time to linger and have lunch with Debbie but had finally been persuaded to hurry home after they'd come out of the restaurant and Debbie had taken a good long look at the dark sky overhead.

"It looks bad," Debbie cautioned.

Lily glanced upward, looking at the dark, almost green cast the heavy, low-hanging clouds wore, and shrugged.

"It's not raining," she argued. "And besides, what's a little rain? Shoot, Debbie. There's not even much wind."

"That's just the point," Debbie said. "It looks like twister weather."

"Twister? What kind of weather is that?" Lily asked.

"It's weather from hell," Debbie answered. "Take it from me, girl. You get yourself in that station wagon and you head for home now. And Lily . . ."

"What?" Lily answered. Debbie's behavior was beginning to sink in as Lily realized that she was truly concerned about her being out on the road.

"Call me when you get home. I want to know that you arrived safely," Debbie begged.

"Sure thing," she muttered, as she cast a nervous glance upward. The drive home had been nerve wracking. She'd spent half the time looking at the road in front of her and the other half casting worried glances up toward the dark, boiling clouds. In spite of Debbie's warnings of doom and gloom, she'd arrived safely at the Bar L, unloaded her groceries, and was safely inside before the first drops of rain fell. She made the promised call to Debbie, assured her that she was safe and sound, and then began unpacking the mountain of food she'd just purchased for the men.

Several times she walked toward the kitchen window, staring at the rain and wind and the dark, low-hanging clouds.

At Case's insistence, she didn't cook that evening. Instead, she set out sandwich stuffs and snack type foods for the evening meal, since the men had ceased work before noon due to the weather. Case had fixed himself a sandwich but refused to seat himself at the table with the men. He'd carried the snack outside and ate it while standing on the porch, searching the overhung clouds between bites.

Due to the downpour, the men had driven rather than walked up to the main house for their meal. They had finished in record time and made a dash back outside for their vehicles, anxious to get inside the bunkhouse and settle down for a lazy, early night.

Lily stared at them as they scattered through the rain like quail running for cover. She quickly put the kitchen back in order and wandered through the living room and den, pretending to check all the windows to make sure they were closed against the rain; in fact, she was searching for Case. She finally located him in the den, perched on the edge of his favorite easy chair, seemingly transfixed by the show that was playing on the television. If something was that interesting, it deserved his entire attention, she thought," and sighed, leaving him to watch his show in private.

But Case wasn't paying attention to the sitcom that he'd tuned into. He was reading the line of script that kept running beneath the picture, mentally taking note of the direction the thunderstorm was moving as the weatherman's warning continually ran across the bottom of the screen. He hated stormy weather, especially when there were tornado warnings. He'd been in one tornado. One was enough!

All evening and late into the night he kept going from the television to the porch outside, scanning the dark, searching the skies. In the instant when lightning would illuminate the heavens, he'd have a chance to look for telltale signs of a deadly tail of twisting cloud hanging down from the sky.

He knew the hour that Lily had given up on him and gone to bed. She'd stuck her head inside the doorway and told him goodnight. But for once, Case had not been tempted to tease her or follow her down the hall and take a chance on sneaking a goodnight kiss. He'd been too concerned about their welfare.

Because he'd been so uncommunicative, he knew Lily probably thought he was angry. In fact, it had been just the opposite. He had no intention of telling her what was bothering him. He didn't want to frighten her unnecessarily. Many times, nights like this resulted in nothing but sleeplessness. The storms usually blew over. But it was the one time that it didn't that had to count. It was too dangerous to just go to bed and hope that when morning came you were still alive to wake up.

Lily had been asleep for what seemed like hours. The constant drumming of rain overhead lulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep that was broken by a clap of thunder so loud that she felt the bed actually shake from the Shockwaves.

Following that, Case's harsh, urgent voice was in her ear, and the feel of his strong arms scooping her from the bed, blankets and all, made Lily think she was dreaming. But she'd never felt such fear in her sleep. And when Case kicked open the back door and made a run off the porch into the blinding rain, soaking them both to the bone, Lily knew this wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare!

"Stand up!" Case shouted into her ear, desperate to be heard over the pounding rain and the continuous rumbling growl of thunder overhead. "I've got to open the cellar door."

When Lily's feet touched the ground, she felt water come over her ankles. He'd either put her in a puddle, or else he was trying to drown her. She didn't know which and was too frightened and cold to care. The wind whipped at the blanket that Case had wrapped around her, and she clutched at it in panic, afraid that if it blew away into the night, she'd go with it.

"Case!" she screamed, as the wind tore at her hair and clothing, suddenly realizing that she could no longer see or feel him anywhere near.

Instantly he was there, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as a faint beam of light from the flashlight in his hands shined a weak but welcome path down the cellar steps.

"Come on, honey," he yelled above the storm, "just get inside. We'll be okay. I promise!"

Lily didn't wait for a second invitation. She all but jumped down the steps, unaware of what she was walking into, yet knowing that it could be nothing as frightening as what they'd just left.

"Are you all right, Lily Catherine?" he asked, as she jumped at the sound of rocks hammering on the cellar door.

"What's that?" she asked, unable to mask a shiver of fright. She pulled the damp blanket closer around herself.

"Hail," Case answered grimly. And they sounded big. Their impact was echoing inside the cellar like a drumbeat gone wild.

Case laid the flashlight on a shelf, letting the little beam of spotlight shine toward Lily's face as his hands ran swiftly up and down her shaking arms, searching for signs of injury.

He'd all but dragged her from her bed and wasn't sure whether he'd carried her as carefully as he'd liked. He hadn't had time to be a gentleman about the dash to the storm cellar.

He'd fallen asleep in front of the television and awakened to a weatherman beeping a tornado warning for their vicinity. It had taken him exactly one second to realize that they might not have time to get to a cellar before he'd discarded the notion and headed for Lily's room on the run. He had to get her to safety.

"Answer me, Lily. Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.

Lily nodded her head and blinked, suddenly blinded by the light. She shuddered as she felt Case's hands on her body.

Case felt her tremble and hauled her against him before she had time to argue.

"I'm sorry, Lily love. So sorry," he crooned, as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed her wet, shaking body against the strength of his own. "I didn't mean to scare you to death, but there almost wasn't time to get here. I fell asleep in the chair. I didn't hear the warning."

"Warning?" Lily muttered. The moisture on his bare chest began to warm from the body heat and started to run down onto her face. "What warning?"