Mallory Rush - [Outlawsand Heroes 02] (10 page)

"An interesting wrapper," Noble observed. "Is it as serviceable as it looks?"

"Uh... yeah." Lori suddenly wished she'd dug through her drawers for the filmy pink bit of nothing she put on when she got really depressed.

After settling herself on a white wicker rocker, she indicated he should sit too. Lori began to rock while he tested the mattress edge gingerly then fairly warmed it with his Levi's-clad behind.

Mick's jeans; so was the flannel shirt Noble wore with an uncanny air of poise and masculine elegance. It bothered her to admit it, but Noble looked better in Mick's clothes than Mick ever had. She resented Noble a little for that—but not half as much as she resented herself for noticing.

"So, what's on your mind?" she prompted.

"Too much and more than I can sort through. I sought you out with the hope you might give me some advice."

"I have a better idea. You talk and I'll listen."

"You're sure you don't mind? The hour is quite late and I do tend to pontificate when caught up in a debate—even if it is internal."

The bedside clock said 3:00 a.m. and she had been due to punch in at seven. Had been. Once she'd said her less than hospitable good night to Noble, she'd called in sick. Talk about an acting job, she'd wheezed and coughed out her excuses for the two days she was certain it would take to shake her sudden flu. Two days wasn't much, but even mad as she had been, she'd known she had to help him get his bearings and catch a breather herself before confiding in Ryan.

She wasn't angry anymore, but felt just a little—okay, a lot—uncomfortable with the cozy, exciting sensation Noble's nearness provoked. "Forget the time," she told him. "We can sleep in late. So go ahead, spill your guts and pontificate away."

"Very well, then. I am terribly distraught," he confessed. "Nothing is familiar here and I'm given to wonder if I will ever claim that simple luxury of feeling normal again. Not only with my surroundings, but here." He pressed his palm to his chest, near his heart. "Within."

"Some things in life never change, Noble. The search for inner peace is as old as time."

"Yes, and small consolation that is." He fell silent and studied his hands as if he were a palm reader searching for a nonexistent lifeline.

Lori quit rocking. She wondered so much about this man who was an enigma wrapped in a riddle. But compassion overrode curiosity. "Were you at peace with yourself in your past life?" she asked.

"No. But I had made my peace with the path I was compelled to follow. That path is denied me now and I am left without a sense of direction. I feel so hollow inside, Lori, as if I'm a stranger to myself."

"I know how that feels and it's not a good feeling."

"It's terrible," he whispered. "My life has traversed many twists and turns but never have I lost sight of the purpose which guided me."

"And what was your purpose?"

"A worthy one." He left it at that. "It is gone now as if it never existed."

"But you exist," she reminded him.

"Do I?" He looked at her then, a scrutinizing stare. "My endless dreams seemed real, as real as this moment we're sharing now. It leaves me to wonder if this is the dream and I shall awaken in the place you stole me from. How can I know, Lori? How can I know what is real and what is not? For certain, there is far more unreality about me here than from where I came."

Leaving her chair, she went to him, put her arm around him, and gave him a hug.

"Hugs are real, Noble." She grasped his hand and squeezed. "So is holding hands with a friend who cares. You are real. I'm real. Believe it."

"I don't want to. But... I do. Lori," he said in a hushed, confidential whisper, "please don't think less of me for confessing this, but I am afraid."

"Think less of you?" she repeated, incredulous. "Good Lord, Noble, do you actually think it makes you less of a person to admit being afraid?"

"Of course. To show fear is the sign of a weakling. At least for a man it is."

"But it's okay for a woman to be afraid, right?"

"Certainly. And it is a man's duty to protect her from whatever or whomever she is frightened of."

Lori considered setting Noble straight on his antiquated ideas in the role-playing department. Better saved for later, she decided, when he wasn't so upset.

"Look, Noble, being afraid does
not
make you a weakling. It makes you human. In fact, if you weren't afraid of what you're dealing with now, I would question your sanity."

"You would?" At her nod, he said in a rush, "thank you for easing my mind on that score. Quite frankly, fearing for my sanity was part of the reason I came to your chambers."

"Whatever the reason, I'm glad you did, I'm glad we made up and more than glad to tell you that no way, no how, are you crazy. And now that we've got that straightened out..."

"You wish me to leave?"

"No, I wish you to stay." Even as she said it Lori had to wonder if
she
was insane. "At least for a little longer. You see, I have a problem of my own. I've got—"

"Insomnia." He looked as surprised by his insight as she. But then he pressed his temples, concentrating, and said, "ever since your husband died, you've had trouble sleeping."

Lori was momentarily speechless. "How did you know?" she finally said.

"I'm not really sure. I just... knew." Noble's perplexed expression gave way to one of such absolute connection that she felt as if they were linked by an indelible bond of empathy. "Tell me, Lori. When you were a little girl, did you really jump from a roof, thinking you could fly?"

"I was six. I broke my leg." Stunned and disconcerted, she wondered how much had he absorbed in his deep-sleep state. "Do you remember anything else I told you about myself?"

He thought for a while, then shook his head. "Bits and pieces, but very little comes together to make any sense."

Lori sighed her relief while a part of her was somewhat disappointed. The idea of Noble knowing just about everything there was to know about her held a certain appeal.

Still holding hands, she felt his thumb stroke hers.

"Something does come to me now. It was about how your husband died—not naturally, some sort of tragedy. Will you tell me again?" When she hesitated, he added, "I'm almost as good a listener awake as I am asleep."

"Okay," she slowly agreed. "Mick was a policeman and he was gunned down in a bank robbery." A soft groan came from Noble and she saw distress cloud his face. "You look upset."

"I—" He took a deep breath and let it out on another groan. "Yes, this upsets me greatly. Had I known—remembered—I..." He grimaced. "I wouldn't have been so beastly about demanding the return of my gun."

"That's okay. Really, it is. These are threatening surroundings for you—and besides, you come from a time when most men kept their guns as close to their hips as they would their wallets these days."

"You're very gracious, Lori. More than I deserve," he said with a thread of humbleness she didn't understand. No matter, it plucked at her heartstrings anyway.

Hands touching, their gazes connected, Lori deemed him an exceptionally sensitive man, even by current standards.

"Do you wish to tell me more?" he asked her, his voice oddly strained.

Maybe if she did, just maybe she could sleep for a change. And maybe if she did, Noble would feel free to unburden himself to her. She sensed that something was troubling him, deeply, something beyond his obvious turmoil.

No doubt it was rooted in his past, perhaps sprang from those secrets he had mentioned in the tub. But any man who thought being afraid made him a sissy wouldn't easily part with his secrets or his darker demons within.

Whatever they were, she couldn't imagine them being any darker than her own.

Chapter 8

"I was on duty at the hospital when it happened. Mick was rushed into the emergency room and he was so—so covered with blood that I didn't know who it was at first. But he was still alive and I heard him call my name while all these other people tried to drag me away from this—this man I loved who was calling for me."

Lori... sweet... heart. I'm sorry... so... sorry.
She heard his voice again, so clear she could remember the shallow wheeze of his breath, the gurgling sound in his throat as he began to asphyxiate on... blood.
So much blood.

Struggling for breath herself, she whispered, "I could hear him only because I was clinging to the stretcher, kissing him—I was kissing Mick and telling him that I loved him and everything would be all right. I told him that I wouldn't let him die, that I'd never forgive him if he did. And then—and then... He died." Tears welling in her eyes, she stared hard at Noble. "Know what? I still haven't forgiven him. It's too much to forgive."

"God," Noble breathed out. "Dear God."

"I haven't forgiven Him either." Knuckling tears from her cheeks, she said too brightly, "so, there you have it. My very own passion play, filled with murder and angst, a high drama worthy of the stage. Hey, even Shakespeare couldn't have done better if he'd written the script himself."

Her mirthless laughter fell like brittle chips of ice in the too still room. But then she felt his gentle fingertips push back her hair, his warm breath beside her ear.

"Might I hold you?" She shook her head and pulled slightly away. "Why not?" Noble asked.

"Be-because I'm afraid I'll come apart if you do."

"Would that be so bad?"

"Oh yes, bad." Chancing a glance at him, she was rocked by the soul-deep compassion in his gaze. She felt herself teeter on the verge of throwing herself into his arms, begging him to make it all go away, to render her numb to everything except for the magic of his touch.

"Very bad," she reiterated with more force.

"I don't understand."

"It's really simple, Noble. I'm a lot like Humpty-Dumpty. I had a great fall, and I've done my best to put myself back together again, but some pieces are missing. So it's really important for me to protect myself from anyone or anything that might jar what I've managed to keep intact."

"But if you would let me, I would like to help you find those missing pieces so you might be whole again."

Lori considered his offer. She needed some help and Lord knew her counseling sessions and grief group hadn't gotten her over the hurdle she continued to straddle—on better days.

Thinking aloud, she said, "it's strange, but I actually do feel better since I told you about it—again. I don't talk about my real feelings to anyone, not in the last couple of years anyway. Not even to my parents or my friends. Hell, I don't even talk to myself about them anymore, my feelings just keep me awake, when I'd sell my soul for a good night's sleep. And here we are, not really knowing each other, while I spill my guts all over the place like you're the best friend I've got."

"Nothing would make me happier than for that to be true." Noble tapped his lips, those marvelous lips that tugged at the corners and made her smile slightly too. "I feel a bond with you as well, Lori, one which defies logic and time. I pray that we shall always be the best of friends. Friends... and more."

He looked as though he wanted to say more than he was actually saying. Or maybe it was just her, projecting onto him all the contradictions that defined her life and never got resolved. When would she get beyond the past and get on with her future? And yet, in the short time Noble had been with her, she had taken some great strides forward.

Did she dare take another? A small but significant step that would alter their already unique relationship. Perhaps it was that uniqueness that was imbuing her with the courage to take the risk of listening to her heart, not her head.

"I'd like you to do something, Noble. Something I haven't let another man do in a very long time." Reaching for the bedside lamp, she switched it off. "Hold me? And more."

"How much more?" he murmured, taking her into his arms.

"I don't know yet." How solid, how natural and good she felt in his easy embrace. "For now, I just want you to hold me until I go to sleep." She rubbed her cheek against the coarse stubble of his. "This feels right."