tossed the strainer into one of the mugs, then carried everything over to the hearth, carefully setting the china pot on the flat stone. “Don’t you ever get lonely?”
“All the time,” she said. “But there’s really not much I can do about it. Leaving the island would be like cutting out a part of my heart.”
“Have you ever left the island?” he asked.
This brought a laugh. “Of course I have. All the time.”
He could see it in her eyes. She was lying. But now was not the time to call her on it. “I live in New York,” he said.
“Good for you. When I imagine living my life there, it seems as difficult to me as my life here seems to you.”
A gust of wind rattled the windows and they both turned to look. “It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”
Annie crawled out of her chair and sat down next to him on the hearth. Rourke felt his pulse quicken and he held tight to his tea in an effort not to reach out and touch her. But she had other ideas. She set her mug down and reached out, placing her hand on his cheek. Then, her gaze fixed on his, she leaned forward and touched her lips to his.
The contact sent a jolt running through him, like being struck by lightning. Only it wasn’t painful, but warm and pleasurable. He set his mug down beside him and slipped his fingers through her hair, pulling her into another kiss, this one deeper and more urgent than the first.
Rourke wasn’t sure what was happening, but he wasn’t about to stop it. From the moment he’d seen her in the hardware store, he’d wanted this to happen. He’d just never expected to get the chance. And now that he was here, Rourke wasn’t going to waste another moment.
His fingers twisted in the damp strands of her hair, but suddenly he heard her gasp and Rourke drew back. He’d forgotten about the cut on her scalp. “Let me look,” he said.
“It’s really much better,” she said. “It just stings a little.”
The interior of the cabin was dimly lit, the sun already down and the lamps providing a feeble kind of light. He gently examined her injury by the glow of the fire and found the spot. There was a substantial knot around the cut, but it looked as if it had stopped bleeding.
“I don’t think it will need stitches.”
“Good,” she said. “I hate going to the doctor.”
“What the hell were you doing out there?” Rourke asked. “You’ve lived by the ocean your entire life. Surely you know better than anyone how dangerous it can be.” He paused. “And what was the herring for? Who buys twenty pounds of bait before a storm?”
“Are you hungry? I should make us something for dinner.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” he asked. “What were you doing?”
“Talking to the sea,” she said. “When it gets like this, sometimes I think I can hear voices in the wind. If I just listen hard enough, I think I might be able to hear what they’re saying.”
“Voices? Whose voices?”
“My parents’,” she said softly. He saw a blush rise on her cheeks. “It’s silly. I know.”
Rourke said, “No, it’s not. It’s not.” He wanted to ask her what had happened. Town gossip had never gone into great detail. He knew they’d both drowned, but he wasn’t sure of the circumstances. No one in town had ever offered an explanation and until now, it really hadn’t mattered to him.
“I really should stop. This time it almost got me killed.”
“I guess you were lucky I was there,” he said.
She nodded. “I guess I was.” Annie tucked her feet up beneath her and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Are you sure you don’t have someplace you need to be?”
“Actually, I was on my way home to New York. I was hoping to put a few miles behind me before the storm hit. But I can stay.”
“Maybe you should bring your things in before the weather gets too bad. I’ll just get dinner started.”
Rourke nodded. He stood, grabbed his jacket and slipped into it. “What’s the dog’s name?”
“Kit,” she said.
Rourke patted his thigh and the dog looked up from where he was sleeping by the fire. “Come on, boy.”
The border collie jumped to his feet and scampered to the door, then hurried out in front of Rourke. As he walked down the steps, he noticed that the wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped close to freezing. If it got any colder, the rain might become ice or snow.
He moved toward the water. The color of the sky and sea now blended together until the horizon was almost impossible to see. The wind gusts were strong enough to test his balance and within minutes, his fingers had gone numb from the cold.
Kit stood beside him, sniffing at the wind. Rourke reached down and gave him a pat on the head. She wasn’t entirely alone, he mused. And maybe she would have been fine without his help. But Rourke couldn’t regret his impulse to stop and check on her.
After all, she’d kissed him. And he hadn’t been kissed—or touched—by a woman since he’d arrived on the island. It was rather ironic that all this was happening the day he decided to head home. He wasn’t going to question the timing. Whatever happened tonight between them could be a powerful counterpoint to the storm.
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