Moaning, he clamped his free hand on her waist and drew her against his body while the hand holding her cheek continued to caress her. His tongue moved slowly through her mouth as though savoring the taste.
He explored her mouth as cautiously as he carved stone, bit by bit, touching each nook and cranny, leaving his mark before moving on. She couldn’t remember a time when anyone had been so tender, so seemingly appreciative of what she had to offer. Even Kirk, for all his gentleness, had never been this tender.
Ending the kiss, he trailed his thumb over her lower lip. “Did I do it right?” he asked quietly.
Meg moved her hands away from his neck and glided them along his chest. “I have to go now,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
She ran to the house, keeping the answer to his question locked inside her heart.
Fourteen
BEFORE DAWN, CLAY WAS STANDING IN THE DOORWAY OF THEshed, waiting.
She didn’t come.
Throughout the day, he chipped on the stone, hit his thumb more often than he hit the chisel, gazed out the windows, walked to the door, stared in the direction of her farm, and released a sigh stronger than the wind.
As twilight filtered through the windows, he sat in the chair, his hope that she’d come dwindling to an aching loneliness. Holding the bandanna she usually wore, he inhaled the scent of sweet honeysuckle and studied the granite.
The shadows looked as though they were rising from a sea of stone. If he were generous, he could have said he’d cut away at least half the stone that he needed to.
What he was contemplating was wrong, and he knew it. He knew it would be a mistake to work on the details of Kirk’s face before he completely carved out the silhouettes.
But he wanted Meg to come back to the shed and watch him work.
Kirk was the only one with the power to bring her back.
Sunday morning Clay awoke unable to remember a time in his life when he’d felt more alone. If he’d known kissing Meg would mean he’d never see her again except in church, he wasn’t certain he would have kissed her.
Hell, he would have kissed her. He just would have kissed her longer and more tenderly until she made those little sounds Kirk had told him about.
He’d kissed her wrong. That’s why she hadn’t come back. Maybe he’d held her waist too tightly and hurt her. Maybe he’d scratched her face with his rough hand. He should have kept his fingers still instead of touching every inch of her face that his fingers could reach.
And he hadn’t shaved before he went to the swimming hole. Maybe a day’s growth of beard had chafed her delicate skin.
In retrospect, he could think of a hundred things he’d done wrong when he kissed her.
He couldn’t think of a single thing he’d done right.
Sitting at the back of the church, he knew that the days since he’d seen Meg at the swimming hole had been equally long for her. She sat at the organ, staring at the keyboard, her eyes drifting closed from time to time, her shoulders slumped. She didn’t even seem to come to life when she played.
Did she regret letting him touch her, letting him kiss her? Did her regrets keep her awake at night? Did his kiss give her nightmares?
He wanted to tell her he’d begun working on Kirk’s features. He wanted to tell her he’d never kiss her again or touch her. He wouldn’t even talk to her if she’d just come back and watch him work.
The reverend called for a prayer. Usually Clay bowed his head, but today he kept his eyes open and focused on Meg. If he was only going to see her one day a week, he needed to gather as much of her into his memory as he could.
When the prayer ended, Robert stood and addressed the congregation. “As you know, Mama Warner has taken ill. Our dear Meg has been at her side almost constantly. My uncle is with Mama Warner now, but as you go on with your lives, I hope you’ll keep my grandmother in your prayers.”
Clay bowed his head and prayed. He was the most selfish man he knew. All week he’d only thought about how much he wanted Meg. It had never occurred to him that perhaps someone else needed her more.
She began to play the organ, and he lifted his gaze. He wished she’d look at him, just once, but she didn’t. He got up and walked out of the church.
“If you’re gonna do it, you’d best get it done.”
Clay glared at Lucian as the people wandered out of the church. “That’s easy enough for you to say.”
Lucian laughed. “Yeah, it is.”
