When I See Your Face

A wisp of memory floated into her mind. A voice. Deep. Soothing. Reassuring. Someone—a man, she knew that—had examined her with hands so gentle she’d longed to see his face. His touch had been cool on her hot forehead and at her temple. When she’d opened her eyes and tried to see him, she’d been blinded by the brilliant light that had surrounded him like a halo.

“The weather is supposed to be nice tomorrow,” Rory continued. “Let’s go riding. The mare that had the inflamed leg needs some light exercise, and I want to see how she handles herself with other horses.”

Silence ensued after the invitation.

Shannon assumed Megan was thinking it over. A hand nudged her arm.

“Hey, you gone to sleep?” he asked.

“Are you talking to me?”

“Yeah. I know Megan wants to go. How about you?”

Fear rushed over her. “I—I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.”

“You need to get out,” he said decisively. “Don’t worry. We’ll watch out so you don’t fall down a gopher hole.”

Shannon heard Megan gasp. “Rory,” she scolded.

“I wanted her to know it won’t be a case of the blind leading the blind,” he said blandly. “Unless she’s scared, or doesn’t trust us to watch after her.”

Shannon’s hackles rose. “I’ve been riding horses since I could sit up by myself. I’d hardly be afraid of one. Especially if Megan is with me.”

There, that would let him know her faith was in her cousin, not a handsome charmer like him.

“Good. I’ll be over around noon or whenever I finish at the clinic.” He paused. “It is okay for her to ride, isn’t it?”

“Well, the doctor didn’t say she was under any restrictions on activities,” Megan told him. “At least, not to me.”

“Nor to me,” Shannon informed them briskly, determined to speak for herself. After all, she wasn’t an invalid.

The clock on the mantel chimed ten times. Shannon hadn’t realized it was so late. Fatigue rolled over her. It had been a very long day. Her emotions had gyrated through several ups and downs.

“Grandfather is ready to go to his room,” Megan announced. “I’ll make us some cocoa and be back shortly.”

Shannon kissed her grandfather’s cheek when he stopped by the rocker and patted her knee. “Good night,” she murmured to the patriarch, again experiencing a fierce protective love for her family.

“What makes you sad?” Rory asked when the other two were gone.

“I was thinking of my grandfather. He’s outlived his wife and all three of his children. That must be a terribly lonely thing for a person. Then to have a stroke and be confined in a wheelchair seems so unfair.”

“Yeah, it’s tough. But so is he. And you.”

She smoothed the hair over her temple and managed a smile. “I’m not so sure—”

“I am.”

“Listen, about tomorrow.” She paused, trying to figure out how to say what she was thinking. “You don’t have to…to keep an eye on me. I mean, you’re under no obligation to watch after me—”

“I never thought I was.”

“What I’m trying to say is that…well, I know you found me and saved my life and all, but you don’t have to feel responsible for me. You don’t have to check on me. After all, I’m not your patient,” she ended stoically.

He snorted, made a strangling sound, then burst into unabashed laughter.

She realized how stupid she’d sounded. “Okay, so I made a donkey of myself. You know what I meant.”

He stifled the chortles. “Yes, I know. I don’t feel I have to look after you.”

She heard him move, then felt his touch on her cheek. She held very still while her heart set up a heavy, alarmed pounding. Fear, unlike that experienced during the past ten days, fluttered through her chest.

“But you do have the most kissable mouth of any woman I’ve ever met,” he murmured in an oddly quiet tone, almost as if he spoke to himself.

Her breath hung in her throat, then she laughed. “You suddenly noticed this? That’s a bit hard to swallow when we’ve lived in the same town all our lives.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Sometimes it takes an incident to change fate, so to speak. Like seeing a person on a snowy night with Christmas lights sparkling in her eyes.”

He touched her temple next to the patch over her left eye. When she felt warmth near her mouth, she gasped, unable to believe what she thought was about to happen.

Then his mouth was there, increasing the warmth to heat, then fire.

Stunned, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Except for one question. Why had she ever thought of him as a person of coolness? His touch was that of the sun, radiating warmth clear down to her toes.

Confusion swept over her.

Now he was one with the dark, swirling fog that had haunted her the week of the coma, with the longing that had invaded her soul as she’d searched for a way out of the hot darkness, with the awful need for another person that frightened her because it felt too dangerous.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He drew back slightly. “I can’t help it. Your lips are too tempting.”

His mouth touched hers again. His hands stroked through her hair. She hesitated, then, unable to stop, leaned into the kiss, letting it take her, needing the healing touch—

“No,” she said and jerked away.

He didn’t insist, but she could sense his gaze on her. “That was an experiment,” he said finally.