|
|
|
|
|
|
his shoulders, moving down the length of his long, rigid back, touching his tight buttocks and moving |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
He sprang to his feet and backed away. ''No!" he whispered hoarsely. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
He stopped within a shaft of moonlight. If the feel of his body hadn't affected Mariah, the anguish etching deep, pained lines at his eyes and beside his sorrowful mouth would have drawn her to him. But she obeyed and stayed still. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"I am sorry, Mariah." There was a roughness to his voice that told her he, too, had been affected by their closeness. "You do not understand. I wish . . . " He hesitated, then, almost to himself, continued, "We must all learn to accept what cannot be." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
She wanted to cry out to him, to take him back into her arms. To comfort him. But he was right. For reasons he could never comprehend, their closeness was impossible. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
His unreliability made it so. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
As did her coming here from the future for a purpose she'd yet to fulfill. If she had in fact figured it out. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Then, who knew where she'd be? |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"You're right," she said, standing and turning her back toward him, "Please take me back to the inn." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Shaking inside with emotion, she was even more aware of Thorn's presence as she followed him back through the woods, this time without touching. In the dim light, she watched his graceful stride, wondering with regret what it would have been like if they'd gone on. Glad, though, since she had to work with him. How awkward it would be for them to serve inn guests together if they'd made love tonight and regretted it in the morning. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Yet Mariah was sorry, so sorry, they had stopped. |
|
|
|
|
|