The Widowed Bride. Elizabeth Lane
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Those ten years of abuse were branded on her brain and seared along her nerves. The memories came back as violent dreams that jolted her awake in the night, leaving her shaken and drenched with sweat. The physical and emotional reflexes were, if anything, even worse. For a time, Ruby had hoped they would heal. Now she feared they would never go away.
“How did your husband die, Ruby?”
Her throat jerked tight. She willed herself to breathe before she spoke. “Are you in the habit of asking such personal questions?”
“Not usually. But you’re an intriguing woman. I’m curious about you.”
“Well, take your curiosity someplace else,” she said. “I prefer to keep private matters private.”
One dark eyebrow slithered upward. Ruby gave herself a mental kick. She should have lied, told him that Hollis had died of something ordinary, like influenza or heart failure. That would have been the end of it. Now the man would be more curious than ever.
Dutchman’s Creek was a small town. Sooner or later, she knew, word of her scandalous past was bound to spread. But Ruby had resolved to keep the secret for as long as she could. She needed time to establish a good reputation. Her daughters needed time to make friends. She wasn’t about to reveal her story to a man she’d just met.
“Look!” she exclaimed, seizing on a distraction. “Could that be a table behind that old bed frame?”
“Where?” He leaned close to follow the line of her pointing finger. “I don’t—”
“Right over there. I could be wrong. It’s hard to tell from here. If you could move a few things out of the way…”
Striding forward, he lifted a chair off the top of the stack, wiped away the dust and set it upright, next to her. “Have a seat. We might as well spread everything out. Then you can choose whatever strikes your fancy, and I’ll earn my keep by hauling it upstairs.”
“Fine.” Ruby moved back out of the way before settling with her hands in her lap.
“Speak up if you see something you can use.” Ethan set to work, lifting the lighter pieces—stools, kitchen chairs and empty wooden crates—off the stack and setting them on the floor. Many of the items were broken. The best of them needed a good scrubbing and a fresh coat of paint. But never mind that. As the minutes passed, Ruby found herself paying less attention to the furniture and more to the man.
Ethan moved with a healthy animal power. Muscles rippled beneath his shirt as he freed each piece of furniture and moved it effortlessly onto the floor. Even the heavier items—solid armchairs, bulky chests, metal bedsprings—caused him little strain. He had the body of a man who’d led a vigorous life, not a scholar who’d devoted his days to research and teaching.
His face was weathered by sun and wind. His big hands were strong, the skin lightly mottled, as if something had scarred them. Ruby had never claimed to be a keen judge of men, but even she could surmise that he hadn’t told her the truth.
If Ethan Beaudry was a college history professor, she was the queen of Sheba!
So who was he? What was he really doing here? Maybe it was time she found out.
She rose and sauntered toward him, pausing to inspect a rocking chair with a missing arm. “So you’re on leave from your job, Professor. Where did you say you teach?”
“I didn’t say.” He righted a tilting chiffonier and moved it away from the wall. “But since you asked, it’s Oberlin College, in Ohio. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”
“Is that where you’re from? Ohio? I must say, you don’t sound like it.”
He shot her a scowl. “For a woman who likes to keep private things private, you ask a lot of questions.”
“You’ll be sleeping under my roof. I have a right to ask questions, and to expect honest answers.”
“Is that so?” He fiddled with a loose drawer pull. “All right, then. I’m from Oklahoma. Elk City, to save you the trouble of asking.”
“Do you have family there?”
His jaw tightened. “Not anymore.”
“Why do you say that? Did they move away? Did something happen to—”
“That’s enough,” he snapped, cutting off her words. “No more questions, Ruby. And no more answers. I’ll pay my rent on time and treat you like the lady you are. But nobody has the right to pry into my past.”
Stung by his vehemence, Ruby checked the impulse to back away. Summoning her courage, she took a step toward him and raised her eyes to meet his stony gaze. Her heart was pounding like a runaway locomotive. Could he hear it, echoing in the dark chamber of the cellar?
“It seems we have that much in common, at least,” she said coldly. “Let’s declare a truce. I’ll respect your privacy if you’ll respect mine. That should be suitable for both of us. Agreed?”
He stood glowering at her, tall and strong and over-poweringly masculine. He could break her bones with his bare hands if he chose to, Ruby thought. But the emotion that poured through her body wasn’t fear. Heaven help her, she wanted to feel his hands on her again. She hungered for a second helping of the sensual pleasure he’d ignited when he caught her in his arms and lowered her to the floor.
Leave before it’s too late! a voice of caution inside her urged. But Ruby’s feet would not obey. She stood rooted to the floor, straining toward him like a grass stem reaching for the sun.
The darkness pressed around them, intimate in its silence. She could hear the low rush of his breathing and smell the clean, musky-sweet aroma of his sweat. A warm, liquid ache rose from the depths of her body.
“Maybe we should just stop talking altogether.” His voice had gone thick and husky. Heat sizzled over her skin as he bent closer. Her lips parted, anticipating his kiss.
What if she couldn’t do this?
What if she froze in panic, as she’d done almost every time Hollis had touched her?
This was a mistake. She wasn’t ready. Maybe she never would be.
A whimper escaped her throat. She stumbled backward, shattering the tension between them. Ethan watched in silence as she battled for composure. His dark eyes held a world of unspoken questions.
Questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
She drew herself up and faced him again. “Perhaps we’d both be better off if you stayed at the hotel,” she said.
His gaze hardened. “Ruby, if you’re afraid that I’d—”
“Of course not!” Her