Heaven Scent (28 page)

“To think anyone would not be affected
by this is unequivocally irrational, Patrick,” Rafe said, bending
to pick up his shirt. “Tarin is…” God, his chest hurt. “…special.
To have her see me this way...”

He couldn’t finish. He couldn’t voice
the concern. Shoving his arms through the sleeves, he started to
button it. “God has graced me with her love - he can also take it
away at a moment’s notice. I have seen myself. I know what my
reaction is everyday when I look in the mirror. For someone that
has not been exposed to such… disgust, it will be
shocking.”

He bent to pick up his vest. She ran
from him in his nightmares. In them, he heard her scream, saw the
complete terror in her beautiful eyes. She acted as if he were some
sort of monster.

Rafe gritted his teeth. He had to face
it - he was one.

“For what it’s worth,” Rafe added,
“thank you for all you did through the years. I know it wasn’t
easy. Once we get the business on its feet, I want you to take a
long vacation.” He held out his hand for a shake.
“Truce?”

Patrick took it with a grin. “Make that
a wedding trip. I’d like to take Rosa down to Atlanta.”

“Wedding trip?” Beau cried, coming up
for a handshake himself.

“I haven’t asked her yet, but I plan to
once this one gets Tarin to the church.” He pointed a thumb over
his shoulder.

Grinning, Rafe couldn‘t help but tease
his brother. “St. John, should we tell him Rosa sleeps with a
gun?”

Patrick whipped his head around.
“What?”

Laughing, Beau shook his head in a
dramatic fashion. “Yes, you don’t want to wake her suddenly. It
could be dangerous.”

“There will only be one gun in our
bed...” Patrick glanced down at his crotch.

Roaring with laughter, Rafe buttoned up
his vest. “Yes, but as with any gun, its aim could be off when used
for the first time.”

Beau threw his head back and
laughed.

“Tease me all you want,” Patrick said,
frowning at their mirth. “But I am not the one that is scared to
bed my woman.”

Shaking his head, a defensive tone
laced Rafe’s voice. “I really should deck you just once to teach
you a lesson.”

Patrick grinned. “For a man that was
legendary with the ladies before he left, you give the impression
you have lost your touch.”

Rafe frowned at the smirk lighting
Beau’s face. “Like hell I have.”

Taking him by the shoulders, Patrick
shook Rafe. “Well then use that renowned charm of yours and bed the
woman, for Pete’s sake.”

Hell, he wanted to bury himself inside
her and touch that delectable skin of hers more than anything on
earth. The kisses and whispered desires she had bestowed on him
after the college approval had nearly cost him his
pride.

But he couldn’t give himself false
hope. He had to be realistic.

He needed to show her. Time was running
out.

In more ways than one.

Rafe had seen Patrick leaving Rosa’s
room the previous night. If a child wasn’t on the way, one would be
soon.

His hands shook as he put away the
documents on the desk. Damn, he needed a drink.

No. What he really needed was the
courage to take the blow of whatever reaction she showed. For a man
that had seen and faced what he had, it galled him to be cowed by a
tiny woman that professed to love him. What the hell was wrong with
him?

Tarin and her father would be there
later that night for supper. Perhaps, if he got himself foxed, he
could muster up the nerve to take her to a secluded room and just
show her.

He blew out a deep breath. Hell, he
would never be ready.

If she didn’t know better, Tarin would
think her fiancée avoided her. She and her father had arrived
nearly a half hour ago and Rafe still had not made an
appearance.

She smiled at Beau across the parlor as
she smoothed the front of her mustard-yellow gown. Now that she
thought about it, Rafe had been rather quiet yesterday when she
stopped by to thank him for his part in the college approval. While
he did welcome her kisses, he offered no arrogant remarks or sweet
endearments. His touch at her back had been hesitant, his smile
scarce.

Was he having second
thoughts?

“You have a look that is
troubled.”

Tarin started. Rosa stood in front of
her, a hesitant smile on her face. So caught up in her musings,
Tarin had not seen her approach. The day before, they had shared a
long discussion on the prerequisites of the college and Rosa’s
instruction in the English language. Tarin had grown so excited
about the prospect of a new midwife recruit, she had found herself
volunteering to help Patrick tutor.

Who would have ever thought she would
befriend a woman that once loved her fiancée?

“I am wondering if Rafe’s delay is yet
another hot bath.” Tarin returned the smile.

Rosa’s delicate laughter caused Patrick
to look their way. Rosa practically glowed today, her beige skin
luminous and flawless.

Leaning in, her voice was
conspiratorial. “
I understand he indulges
often. Perhaps, you need to go upstairs and pull him from the
tub.”

Or join
him
. A thrill shot through her. She could
not wait until they shared the marriage bed. After reading Dr.
Longfellow’s book, she was eager to show Rafe what she had learned.
She did not believe it would be a painful and tedious experience as
she had overheard during many afternoon teas. What she and Rafe had
shared so far had pleased and pleasured her far beyond her
imagination. Why would she think the ultimate experience would be
nothing short of ecstasy?

“Perhaps, I will see what is keeping
him...” She eyed the parlor door.

“I will say you went to...
how you say... freshen up
.” Rosa winked at
her.

Rosa sounded a lot like Kit. Tarin
clutched her arm briefly to whisper close. “Thank you. I will
return shortly - hopefully with Rafe in tow.”

Rosa’s brows shot into the
hair fanning her forehead. “
Perhaps not.
You may find yourself occupied for a time
.”
She grinned slyly.

Making up her mind, Tarin rushed from
the room before someone stopped her.

Her steps slowed when she reached the
stairs. It was most improper to enter a man’s bedroom, she told
herself, as she took the steps one at a time. Yet, he would be her
husband in two days - did it matter at this point? If Rafe had
taught her anything, it was to take chances.

Stopping in front of his door, she
raised her hand to knock, then thought better of it. She didn’t
want to give him the option of discouraging her intentions. Opening
it slowly, she peeked her head around the door.

He was nowhere in sight. She frowned.
Stepping inside, she shut the door quietly and stood aside. Her
heart pounded so loud, she was sure he could hear her.

Nothing happened.

Suddenly, rustling came from the next
room. He must be in the closet. Tiptoeing across the floor, she
smiled as she wondered whether to spook him or announce herself
grandly.

He popped out of the closet completely
nude, stopping Tarin in her tracks. She caught her breath. He
hadn’t seen her yet.

But she saw him. All of him. His body,
while taut, muscular and finely formed, was a mishmash of
mutilation and deformity. Raised and puckered scars of red, purple
and white covered his torso like quilt patches. Some marks appeared
smooth from burns, others stretched tight across his chest and
back. His side appeared slightly concave, as though part of his
insides had been carved from his bones. Her heart stopped. Heaven
above, he had been tortured.

“Rafe!”

His head snapped up. His eyes bulged
out of his head. He gritted his teeth, his face a red mask of shock
and anger.

“Get out!” His voice shook with
rage.

“What?”

He stomped towards her. Anger radiated
from his body like a furnace. She backed away, matching him step
for step.

“Get out!”

“Good God, Rafe, what happened to
you?”

Her gaze shot to his. Something wild
and primitive blazed in his black eyes. If she did not know him
better, she would be frightened for her safety.

“Rafe -”

The next thing she knew she was out in
the hall, staring at his closed door. She couldn’t move. Footsteps
running up the stairs reached her ears.

“Tarin, what happened?”

Patrick reached her before the others.
He came around to face her. They both started when a crash sounded
on the other side of the door.

“What… happened to him?” Her eyes shot
to his, the shock decelerating her words.

He tried to turn her away. “Come, Tarin
-“

She stood her ground. She didn’t want
to go away. She wanted to see Rafe. “No, Patrick. I’m not leaving
until I have some answers.”

“Tarin.” Isabel came up behind her and
put an arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t you come downstairs and
wait for him there?”

“Yes, Tarin,” Beau interjected. “He
will not leave his room until we are away from the door, I assure
you.”

Shrugging off Isabel’s arm, Tarin shook
her head in aggravation. Why did they not answer her? Why were they
trying to console her? And why didn’t they tell her what had
happened to him in the first place?

“I don’t want to go downstairs. I want
to know what happened to Rafe.”

Her eyes searched the group but no one
spoke. They crowded her, giving no room to move. The air grew
stifling, making her body hot and agitated.

“Tarin.” Her father’s booming voice
commanded her attention. She turned to face him, her hands fisted
in her skirts. “You will come downstairs and wait for him
there.”

“I do not want to go downstairs,” she
said through gritted teeth. “I want some bloody
answers!”

A delicate,
heavily-accented voice cut through the air with deadly calm. “I
have the answers you want,
meiha
. Come with me.”

Violent sobs wracked Tarin’s body to
the point of pain. Tears ran down her cheeks like pouring rain, her
heart shattered to dust. Her logical, compassionate mind could not
comprehend the graphic torture and agony that Rosa expressed. Could
not imagine what Rafe had felt or endured. It hurt her beyond
coherence to know what Rafe had suffered.

If only she could have suffered the
hurt for him.

“We had to kill most to get to Rafe.”
Rosa’s voice, though quiet, echoed in the silent parlor. Henry
stood behind Tarin’s chair, his hand on her shoulder. Beau held
Isabel’s hand as she sobbed on the sofa, while Patrick kneeled
beside Rosa’s chair, his hand in hers.

“My pa-” her voice broke,
“my
padre
cut him
down, he dropped in Beau’s arms. We thought he was dead. We took
him back to the mission.” She paused as she squeezed Patrick’s
hand. “We would not leave him.”

Holy God above, she was going to be
sick. Tarin held her palm against her stomach, trying to ward off
the nausea.

“Rosa and her mother nursed him night
and day.” Beau interjected, his eyes on Isabel’s bowed head. “I
firmly believe that it was the continual prayers of Rosa’s family
and the people at the mission that pulled Rafe through. He should
not have survived.”

Were it not for the woman that loved
Rafe first, Tarin would have never known him. Would have never
enjoyed his arrogant sense of humor, his protectiveness, his
support of her career. Would never have tasted his kisses or shared
the blissful intimacy in the garden.

She would never have fallen in
love.

“I cannot find the words to thank you.”
Her eyes met Rosa’s.

“There is no need. He and
the Rangers did much for the people. They faced danger each day to
protect us.” She smiled at Beau before looking at Tarin again. “You
see,
meija
, what
frightened you that day in the park is what he did each day for us.
We would have never survived without the Rangers.”

Rafe had spent the last ten years
saving lives just as she wanted to do. She had accused him of
having little regard for his life when in fact, he had great regard
for his life. He knew he had to be strong to protect others so he
found the most efficient way of destroying the threat to minimize
the danger.

Rafe had mostly likely saved more
people than she ever would in her career, should it come to
fruition.

Tarin shook her head. It was she who
was the coward. If she wanted to save lives, she would have to be
brave. That’s what he had tried to tell her in the parlor that day.
If she was afraid to love him and lose him, how could she love and
lose on a daily basis?

Because in fact, she would love the
patients. Everyone of them.