Five
After a miserable night, Jaron waited until the star-filled sky gave way to the pearl-gray light of dawn before he finally lost hope of getting any sleep and sat up on the side of his bed. Mariah had given him a lot to think about yesterday evening—as if having her around all the time hadn’t been the only thing on his mind for the past week.
Resting his forearms on his knees, he stared down at his loosely clasped hands. Between what she had told him and what his brothers had mentioned about her knowing and not caring that there was some kind of trouble in his background, he had given serious thought to the possibilities, as well as the consequences.
There had been something going on between him and Mariah for several years. But whether she could accept his past or not, he wasn’t sure he ever would. The stigma of being the son of someone the world considered to be pure evil wasn’t something that went away that easily, and he had no intention of bringing that kind of repulsive reality into her life.
Unfortunately, it was becoming impossible to resist the temptation of having Mariah with him all the time and keep his hands to himself. He would like nothing more than to be free to hold her to him, kiss her until they both gasped for air and make love to her for as long as she wanted to stay with him. And she wasn’t helping him to resist those needs. She’d let him know in more ways than one that she wanted that, too.
But he had to think of what was best for her and put that ahead of his own desires. She might not think his past was a problem, but he knew better. When he was young he’d had too many people look at him as if they thought he might murder them in their sleep once they learned who his father was. That wasn’t something he would ever forget, nor was it anything he wanted Mariah to even consider. He hoped she never learned the revolting secrets he tried so hard to protect her from. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the disillusionment in her eyes if she ever found out.
Jaron sighed heavily. He should probably fire her and send her on her way. But she needed the job and it was the only way he could think of to help her without hurting her pride or pissing her off to the point of her never speaking to him again.
Now, if he could just figure out a way to keep his hands to himself...
When he heard her close her bedroom door and start down the stairs, he abandoned his troubling thoughts, took a quick shower and got dressed. She would have breakfast ready soon and he had a full day’s work ahead of him repairing fence with his men. Besides, there was no sense wasting time thinking about things that he couldn’t change.
As he pulled on his boots, a keening wail suddenly split the air, raising the hair on the back of his neck and sending an icy chill straight up his spine. Jumping up from the bench at the end of the bed, Jaron ran out into the hall and headed for the stairs. While the smoke alarm screeched relentlessly, the acrid smell of something burning stung his nostrils and caused his eyes to water.
When he reached the kitchen, he immediately looked for Mariah. She was frantically opening cabinet doors, and he assumed she was looking for something to put out the fire. Fairly certain she was all right, he reached into the cabinet under the sink, pulled out the fire extinguisher and, removing the pin, aimed the hose at the flaming skillet on the ceramic stove top. As soon as he was sure the blaze was out, he went straight to the screaming smoke detector and removed the battery to stop the incessant noise.
“Are you all right?” he asked, going over to put his arm around her shoulders to guide her out onto the back porch.
Coughing, she nodded. “I’m okay, but I’m afraid breakfast is going to be late.”
He hugged her close for a moment to reassure himself she was okay, then released her to reach for the door. “Stay here and catch your breath while I go open the windows to air out the kitchen.”
When he returned, she was standing there shivering with her arms wrapped around her waist. He wasn’t sure if she was cold or if she was having a nervous reaction to the fire. It didn’t matter. Without giving it a second thought, he drew her to him to keep her warm.
“It’s okay, darlin’,” he said, gently rubbing her back. “All that matters is that you weren’t hurt.” When she nodded, he asked, “What was in the skillet?”
“I was trying to fry a couple of eggs, but they suddenly burst into flames,” she answered, holding on to him as though he was her lifeline. “I think the oil might have been too hot.”