Somewhere in His Arms (26 page)

              It was midnight when Alec finally pulled up in front of the darkened cottage. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned off the engine. Lucy still slept.

             
He jumped out and fumbled in his pocket for the keys. The realtor had lent him a set as he was renting the place and he hadn’t known how long they might have to stay. The first key proved difficult and he swore, jiggling the metal around in the keyhole. Then the door wouldn’t open! He leaned on the thing and pushed with all his might until finally it swung open, nearly sending him sprawling headfirst to the floor. “Bloody hell!” he swore and did a quick walk-through, turning on the lights in the living room and kitchen. Alec then went into the master bedroom and turned down the bed.              

             
Lucy could decide which room she wanted later.

             
He rushed back to his wife, who was still asleep. Alec unbuckled the seatbelt and lifted her out of the truck. God, it frightened him how light she was in his arms. She might have been a piece of glass, one wrong move, and she’d shatter completely. Her head came to rest on his shoulder, her sweet breath tickling his cheek.

             
Alec hurried to the door and a thought occurred to him that he’d done this before. On their wedding night he
must
have carried her across the threshold. He just wished he could remember it! “Alec…?” she murmured, still groggy with sleep. “Are we there, yet?”

             
“We’re here, love, “ he said softly against her hair. “I’m carrying you across the threshold.”

             
“That’s… nice,” Lucy sighed dreamily.

             
Chuckling, he carried her through the cottage and into the bedroom. He laid her down gently on silk sheets and removed her flats. She sighed contentedly, turned over on the pillow, and went back to sleep. Alec pulled the comforter over her, flicked the lamp off, and left the door cracked should she need him. Then he went into the kitchen and yanked out a bottle of brandy. He poured a healthy dollop into a shot glass and downed it in one fiery gulp.

             
Alec locked up, collapsed on the sofa, and promptly fell into a deep and exhausted slumber.

Chapter Seventeen

She awoke the next morning to the enticing scents of bacon, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Lucy sat up in bed and had a look around. The bedroom was large and airy with a huge window overlooking the bay. Sunlight filtered through the linen drapes and threw mysterious shadows onto the thick shag carpet. She could see the room was decorated in varying shades of cream and taupe, and there were several expensive looking pieces of furnitur
e. Lucy had wondered if Alec intended on taking her back to the little cottage, apparently…
not
.

             
Her ribs protested angrily when she swung her legs over the edge, and she had to take a moment to breathe. She set her feet down on the carpet where she saw that Alec had placed a pair of red velvet ballet slippers. There was also a matching robe in soft plush microfleece. Lucy still wore her cardigan, but breathed a sigh of relief at the slippers. They fit like a glove and soothed her aching feet.

             
She stood up and saw she had a half bathroom and took a moment to freshen up. Lucy flushed the toilet and washed her hands with the scented soap. She didn’t dare look in the mirror. She did however, take time to remove the headband and run her fingers through the tangles. Lucy looked for a comb or brush but couldn’t find any, so she wet a washcloth and pressed it to her face. There was no need to hide the fact that she looked like hell warmed over. It didn’t bother her that much; somehow she figured Alec wouldn’t mind.

             
Lucy turned off the light and went in search of her husband. She hugged the cardigan closer to her body as she padded down the narrow hallway, taking time to admire the architecture. It was a cottage in every sense of the word. There were whitewashed walls, open-beam ceilings, and dark wood trims.

             
She passed through the living room where there was a huge wall-mounted HDTV and mahogany bookcase full of DVD’s in every title imaginable. The rest of the room was tastefully decorated in red floral plaids and cream. There was a large slipcovered sofa and loveseat, wicker chairs covered in brightly patterned cushions, and a coffee table shaped like an old 19
th-
century baggage cart. Richly woven rugs in taupe and red floral patterns covered the dark wood flooring.

             
There came a sound from the kitchen, and Lucy rounded the corner to find her husband in the throes of breakfast. She suppressed a smile while he fumbled for a spatula and not wanting to disturb him, carefully hopped up onto a barstool and watched him with open admiration.

             
Alec was barefoot and dressed in a blue T-shirt and sweatpants encasing his narrow hips. His untidy raven locks attested to a night spent on the sofa, and he had a new day’s growth of beard. He looked just as yummy as the Canadian bacon he had frying in the pan. Lucy stifled a giggle when he swore at the whisk he was using to whip up some kind of sauce in a bowl. He heard her and whirled around. Their eyes met. “Spying on me, wife?” he asked huskily.

             
She nodded sleepily and yawned. “What time is it?”

             
Alec checked his watch. “Ten-thirty.” He went over to her, leaned across the island, and dropped a kiss on her scarred brow. “What are you doing up?” he breathed. “I would have brought it to you.”

             
“I couldn’t sleep anymore,” she frowned at him slightly. “It hurts to lay in one position too long.”

             
He felt her brow. “You’re way overdue for your meds.”

             
“You’d make a great nurse,” she said, smiling up at him.

             
Alec laughed and kissed her again, this time on her nose. “Nah,” he said as he went back to the stove. “I’m not the nurturing type.”

             
“And what
type
are you?” she asked, shifting uncomfortably on her stool. “I still don’t know what you
do
for a living.”

             
He gave her a knowing smile. “Ask me again, sometime.”

             
“Alec!” she groaned in frustration. “You’re really not going to tell me
, are
you?”

             
“Nope!” He couldn’t help but laugh at the little frown she had on her adorable face. “Here, love,” he gestured toward the breakfast nook in the kitchen. “Come, sit.”

             
Grumbling under her breath, she made her way around and plopped down on the plaid cushion. She felt the start of a nasty headache, so she folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them.

             
Alec didn’t particularly care for how pale she looked this morning. Once she got some food into her, he was sending her back to bed. He took out the toasted English muffins and placed the bacon and poached eggs on top and slathered it all in hollandaise. He then lightly sprinkled it with a little freshly chopped parsley and placed it on the table.

             
Lucy raised her head and looked at the plate in front of her. She had no idea Alec was such a gourmet. The eggs Benedict looked like it could have come from any five-star restaurant. Her eyes grew wide when he placed a goblet of freshly squeezed orange juice before her, and took out a cloth napkin and with all the European flair of a maître d, shook it out and placed it in her lap. Her mouth must have dropped open from shock, because he had a foolish grin on his face.

             
“Will there be anything else, Madame?” he asked in an affected French accent.

             
His wife merely rolled her eyes and sliced into the decadent breakfast. The eggs were poached perfectly and oozed richly over the bacon. They tasted even better. “Wow!” she exclaimed after a swallow. “These are
really
good!” She eyed him suspiciously. “Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

             
Alec laughed, a bit embarrassed. “Boarding house!” he said lightly. He got his own plate and sat down across from her. “This is the only thing I can
really
cook without a recipe. This and my mum’s pot roast.” He took a bite and was suitably impressed. At least the hollandaise didn’t break!

             
“Well,
I’m
impressed.” She chewed slowly, savoring every bite. “I can’t even boil an egg properly!”

             
“You’re a splendid cook,” he assured her. He got up to get her pills and handed one to her. “They gave me enough for a month, just in case.”

             
“Ugh,” she grimaced, choking it down with orange juice. “They taste awful!”

             
“After this, I want you to go back to bed.”

             
Lucy was in no mood to argue. “What if I want a bath later?”

             
“I’ll help you.” He speared a piece of the muffin on his fork and chewed slowly. “There’s a walk-shower down the hall and a huge bathtub. You’ll love it.”

             
“Where are we anyway?”

             
“Point Reyes Station.”

             
“Why so far?”

             
“You
know
why!” he replied gruffly. “The farther, the better!”

             
“It’s a nice house,” she said, changing the subject.

             
Alec nodded. “I got a great deal because it’s off-season. It’s fully furnished and it comes with a private beach.”             

             
“What’ll I do for…um…clothes?”

             
“There’s a few shops in town. When you feel up to it, we can get you what you need.” He reached for his orange juice. “ In the meantime, there’s a suitcase with some stuff Tia packed for you.”

             
“Tia…?”

             
“Uh-huh,” he winced at the orangey sour sweetness. “She spent a few days up here getting everything ready.”

             
“She did that? I thought she--”

             
“Well…” Alec scratched his nose. “She wanted to see the place and make sure I wasn’t some--” he broke off, searching for the right word.

             
“Lecher?” she offered, grinning impishly. “Masher? Psycho?”

             
“I think the word she used could be loosely translated as
“the devil incarnate.”

             
“She didn’t
say
that!”

             
“My Spanish
may
be a little rusty,” he grumbled, “but I know an insult when I
hear one!”

             
“She’s just being protective,” Lucy said defensively. “She never liked--” she folded her napkin awkwardly in her lap, “--you-know-who.”

             
“And
who
might that be?” Alec asked quietly.

             
She glanced up to see him staring at her with an almost pained expression on his beautiful face. Lucy shrugged helplessly. “You…know,” she gulped, looking down at the runny remains of her eggs. “He didn’t
mean
anything t-to…me,” she said tearfully. She hoped Alec didn’t think she was
still
pining over that louse. She was still a little ashamed she’d almost gotten hitched to the son of a bitch! “Don’t be mad,” she pleaded as the tears started to fall.

             
“Come here,” he said hoarsely.

             
Lucy got up and went to him. He pulled her down onto his lap and she brushed her lips shyly against his roughened cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Still… mad… at me?”

             
Alec’s arms tightened around his wife. He buried his face into her hair, savoring the fragrance. “Never!” he swore fiercely and kissed her back.
“Never!”

* * *

             
Alec had shooed her off to bed after breakfast, only to wake her for a quick lunch of chicken soup and a spinach salad. He let her watch a few episodes of
Mister Ed
on his laptop before closing the lid and taking it away. “Sleep first!” he’d scolded gently.

             
Lucy punched the pillow in frustration before the medication worked its magic. She slept the rest of the afternoon and woke up just as the sun was settling itself beneath the bay. She turned over and stared up at the ceiling. Faint voices from the television seeped into her room from the crack Alec had left in the door.