Hawk's Way Grooms: Hawk's Way: The Virgin Groom

The absurdity of that comparison made her chuckle.

“Are you going to let me in on the joke?” Mac said.

“Maybe.” If she didn’t lose her nerve before nightfall.

CHAPTER SIX

MAC WAS LYING IN BED WONDERING what Jewel would do if he crossed the hall, knocked on her door and told her he wanted to make love to her. She would probably think he had lost his mind. He had to resist the urge to pursue her. Jewel didn’t need a fumbling, first-time lover. He, of all people, knew how much she needed a kind, considerate, knowledgeable bed partner. Which, of course, he wasn’t.

She needed a slow hand, an easy touch—wasn’t that what the song said? He had a lot of pent-up passion, a lot of celibate years to make up for. He was afraid the first time for him was going to be fast and hard. Which might be fine for him. But not for her.

Mac wished he didn’t have such vivid memories of what had happened to Jewel that day in July six years ago. Any man who had seen her after Harvey Barnes had attacked her…He made himself think the word. After Harvey Barnes had raped her…

He had never wanted to kill a man before or since. He had been there to come to her rescue because he had seen Harvey drinking too much and worried about her, like a brother might worry about his sister. Jewel would have pounded him flat if she’d known he had followed her and Harvey when they slipped off into the trees down by the river.

He had kept his distance, even considered turning around and heading back to the noise of the carnival rides at the picnic, which seemed a world away from the soothing rustle of leaves down by the river. He had heard her laugh and then…silence.

He figured Harvey must be kissing her. He was standing at the edge of the river skipping stones, thinking he’d been an idiot to follow her, when he heard her cry out. Even then, he hadn’t been sure at first whether it was a cry of passion.

The second cry had chilled his blood and started him running toward the sound. He could remember the feeling of terror as he searched frantically for her amid the thick laurel bushes and the tangle of wild ivy at the river’s edge, calling her name and getting no answer.

There were no more cries. He saw why when he finally found them. Harvey had his hand pressed tight over Jewel’s mouth, and she was struggling vainly beneath him. He saw something white on the ground nearby and realized it was her underpants.

He might have killed Harvey, if Jewel hadn’t stopped him. He hadn’t even been aware of his hands clenched in the flesh at Harvey’s throat. It was only Jewel’s anguished voice in his ear, pleading with him, that made him stop before he strangled the life out of the boy.

Harvey was nearly unconscious by the time Mac finally let go and turned to Jewel. Seeing her torn, grass-stained dress and the trickle of blood coming from her lip enraged him all over again. Jewel whimpered with fear—of him, he realized suddenly—and the fight went out of him.

He started toward her to hold her, to comfort her, but she clutched her arms tight around herself, turned her back to him and cried, “Don’t touch me! Don’t look at me!”

His heart was thudding loudly in his chest. “Jewel,” he said. “You need to go to the hospital. Let me find your parents—”

She whirled on him and rasped, “No! Please don’t tell anybody.”

“But you’re hurt!”

“My father will kill him,” she whispered.

He could understand that. He had almost killed Harvey Barnes himself. Then she gave the reason that persuaded him to keep his silence.

“Everyone will know,” she said, her brown eyes stark. “I couldn’t bear it, Mac. Please. Help me.”

“We’ll have to say something to explain that cut on your lip,” he said tersely. “And the grass stains on your dress.”

“My beautiful dress.” The tears welled in her eyes as she pulled the skirt around to look at the grass stains on the back of it.

He realized it wasn’t the dress she was crying for, but the other beautiful thing she had lost. Her innocence.

“We’ll tell your father Harvey attacked you—”

“No. Please!”

He reached out to take her shoulders, and she shrank from him. His hands dropped to his sides. He realized they were trembling and curled them into tight fists. “We’ll tell them Harvey attacked you, but you fought him off,” he said in an urgent voice. “Unless you tell that much of the tale, they’re liable to believe the worst.”

He had never seen—never hoped to see again—a look as desolate as the one she gave him.

“All right,” she said. “But tell them you came in time. Tell them…nothing happened.”

“What if…what if you’re pregnant?” he asked.

“I don’t think…I don’t think…”

He realized she was in too much shock to even contemplate the possibility.

She shook her head, looking dazed and confused. “I don’t think…”

He thought concealing the truth was a bad idea. She needed medical attention. She needed the comfort her mother and father could give her. “Jewel, let me tell your parents,” he pleaded quietly.

She shook her head and began to shiver.

“Give me your hand, Jewel,” he said, afraid to put his arms around her, afraid she might scream or faint or something equally terrifying.

She kept her arms wrapped around herself and started walking in the opposite direction from the revelers at the picnic. “Take me home, Mac,” she said. “Please, just take me home.”

He snatched up her underpants, stuffed them in his Levi’s pocket and followed her to his truck. But it was too much to hope they would escape unnoticed. Not with Jewel’s seven brothers and sisters at the picnic.

It was Rolleen who caught them before they could escape. She insisted Mac find her parents, and he’d had no choice except to go hunting for Zach and Rebecca. He had found Zach first.

The older man’s eyes had turned flinty as he listened to Mac’s abbreviated—and edited—version of what had happened.

The dangerous, animal sound that erupted from Zach’s throat when he saw Jewel’s torn dress and her bruised face and swollen lip made Mac’s neck hairs stand upright. He realized suddenly that Jewel had known her father better than he had. Zach became a lethal predator. Only the lack of a quarry contained his killing rage.

Jewel’s family surrounded her protectively, unconsciously shutting him out. He was forced to stand aside as they led her away. It wasn’t until he got back to his private room in the cottage he shared with a half-dozen boys aged eight to twelve and stripped off his jeans, that he realized he still had Jewel’s underwear in his pocket.

The garment was white cotton, with a delicate lace trim. It was stained with blood.

A painful lump rose in his throat, and his eyes burned with tears he was too grown up to shed. He fought the sobs that bunched like a fist in his chest, afraid one of the campers would return and hear him through the wall that separated his room from theirs. He pressed his mouth against a pillow in the bedroom and held it there until the ache eased, and he thought the danger was over.

In the shower later, where no one could see or hear, he shed tears of frustration and rage and despair. He had known, even then, that Harvey Barnes had stolen something precious from him that day, as well.

Mac learned later that Zach had found Harvey Barnes and horsewhipped him within an inch of his life. And Zach hadn’t even known the full extent of Harvey’s crime against his daughter. It seemed Jewel had been right not to tell her father the truth. Zach would have killed the boy for sure. Harvey’s parents had sent him away, and he hadn’t been seen since.

Things weren’t the same between him and Jewel after that. She smiled and pretended everything was all right in front of him and her family. But the smile on her lips never reached her eyes.

The end of the summer came too soon, before they had reconciled their friendship. He went to her the night before he left, seeking somehow to mend the breach between them, to say goodbye for the summer and to ask if she was all right.

“Harvey Barnes is gone,” she said. “And tomorrow you will be, too. Then I can forget about what happened.”

“I’ll be back next year,” he reminded her.