“I’ll take care of you,” he said softly.
Then he gathered her in his arms, rose to his feet, and carried her back up the stairs.
CHAPTER FIVE
Zacharias Castelianos carried Jaimie to his bedroom, all the while whispering that she’d be fine, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
And she believed him.
She’d met him less than an hour ago and only minutes before, she’d been willing to brave the dark, the endless descent to the lobby, the turmoil that might await her on the streets far below, just to get away from him.
Now, safe in his arms, his deep voice a soothing murmur in her ear, he had become her safe haven.
He sat her gently in a big armchair near the window. She watched him cross the room to a bed that looked as big as her entire apartment in D.C. and scoop a blanket from its foot. Then he came back to her, wrapped her in the blanket—soft wool that smelled faintly of pine and soap, that smelled of him—squatted down before her and clasped her hand.
“OK, honey. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to get those supplies I told you about from the dressing room. It’s right there, in that corner. See?”
She couldn’t, not really; night was fast closing in. But she could hear him, the concern in his voice, and she nodded.
“OK.”
“Good girl.”
She wasn’t a girl, she was a twenty-six year old woman, but he’d said the words in a way that was meant to be kind. Besides, she’d behaved like a girl, not a grown up. Breaking down as she had… It made her feel incredibly foolish.
And now, dammit, added to everything else, she was shaking. Her teeth were banging together and the harder she tried to keep it from happening, the worse it got.
“You’re wet,” he said briskly. “And cold. And you’re in shock.” He rose to his feet. “The blanket will help until I find you some dry stuff to wear. Are you good with that?”
She nodded. Why say OK and risk sounding as if she were playing castanets?
He headed across the room and vanished in the dark. She heard the sounds of things shifting, things knocking together, and then a tiny orange light appeared. It was the flame from a candle burning in what looked like a Mason jar.
Nothing in her life had ever been more welcome.
Zacharias came toward her and set the candle on a table beside the chair.
“Better?”
She smiled. It was. Amazingly better.
“Good. Let me get a few things we’re gonna need…”
He disappeared into the dressing room again. When he remerged, he was carrying a carton. Things in it clinked together as he placed it on the floor.
“Our supplies,” he said, smiling at her. “Now, we’ll get a little more light going in here…”
Seconds later, three more candles were blazing. She could see the room now, the size of it—big, like him. Efficient and masculine, like him.
And beautiful.
Like him.
Because he was. Beautiful. Watching him move was wonderful. His body was lean, long, and elegantly muscled. His face was sculpted, the jaw hard and defined, the nose straight and perfect except for a little bump halfway down its length.
Jaimie’s breath seemed to catch in her throat.
It was difficult to remember why she’d feared him, why she’d been willing to risk so much to escape him.