rustrated, he admonished her. “You have to remember to eat, Sage. You’ll only get sick again if you don’t.”
“I know. I got distracted, and I was agonizing over stuff this morning. I forgot.” Her blush was immediate.
“I have some frozen lasagna in the freezer, shouldn’t take long to heat up.”
“I love lasagna.” She sighed as they walked through the front door.
Closing it behind them, Loch led her into the kitchen, bypassing the living room with the overstuffed furniture and empty shelves. Even though he’d spent quite a bit of time and money on decorating and getting the place up to par for starting a new life, he hadn’t personalized it much, waiting to see the path he would travel. Pictures of his family littered a few walls and sat on a couple of shelves. There were some model cars he’d built and painted for his dad when he was younger displayed in a hidden nook by the stairs. When he’d passed on, Loch’s mother gave them back to him. A treasure she called them.
“I really love the calming tones in here,” she commented and befuddled Loch.
“It’s white.” He looked around, trying to see what she did.
Twisting her lips from side to side, only enticing him to kiss her again, she said thoughtfully, “It’s not just white. You have all these other things to bring balance to the room.”
“Like what?”
Pointing to the screened patio door off the back of the house she explained. “You have the natural light pouring in rather than flooding it with fluorescent. The black marble in your planters brings in a bit of balance between the white walls and cabinets and the dark appliances.”
Looking at the room through her eyes, he saw what she did. Maybe he had made it a home after all. He always figured that would come when a woman’s touch had entered each room.
“Huh, I hadn’t realized that.” Pulling the lasagna from the freezer, he placed it in the oven to be heated. Taking Sage’s hand, he guided her to the small bench seat beside the patio doors and said, “Tell me about Morgan.”
Morgan.
The epitome of all things evil.
Her nightmares come to life.
“I don’t… What do you want to know?” When he said they would talk, she hadn’t thought he meant about this.
“Why he wanted you, what he was like when you met, what happened to his wife?”
“Why?” It wasn’t easy to talk about the man who stalked her every thought.
“Because Frank and Braxton told me some things, and I want your opinion on him and what he’s done. I know your nightmares are mostly about him and what he could have done to you. I want to know how to ward him off for you.”
Taking a deep breath, she swallowed the fear of speaking the man’s name and filled him in. “Morgan came to our community about nine years ago; before that girl went missing. His wife was nice enough. She was never outside and active as much as other wives. I always got the feeling she was afraid of something. Then Jossilyn told me what happened. I hadn’t known he’d beaten her to death.”
“How does she know that?” They never found a report on the woman’s death.
“I don’t know. She must have overheard them talking or something, I suppose.” Sage had never thought to ask how her sister had known.
“When did he become interested in you?” Loch’s hand reached for hers as he asked his questions.
Sage spent the next hour answering all the things he wanted to know about the horrid man. Telling him how whenever Morgan had come to the house, his gaze would always follow her, from the time she was a young girl. She had never been able to get away from the man.
When her parents announced that she was to marry him, his leering grew worse. He’d found ways to make sure they were alone in a room together. While he didn’t touch her, she always felt dirty afterwards.
As her eighteenth birthday had approached and her feelings for Lochlan became known, the situation grew worse. He’d trail his fingers down her arms and across her cheek. It was always provocative but looked innocent to anyone observing them.
“Your parents, were they always dismissive of his advances?” Loch appeared to be torn between confoundedness and complete astonishment.
So was she.
“At first, he hid it. When I turned sixteen, he gave up on pretense and started becoming more forward with his want for me. Father never cared enough to stop it.”
The timer rang before he could respond to her comment. She watched as he walked away, his jeans molding to his buttocks as he moved. She could see his strong thighs flexing as he shuffled around the kitchen getting their plates ready.