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I knock on Anne’s door. She opens it a few seconds later wearing nothing but a short robe and the kind of blindfold they use in beauty salons on her forehead.
“Have you seen Lina?”
“No.” She yawns. “I was having a nap.”
Taking the stairs two by two, I run down to the kitchen and ask Jana the same question. From the way she smiles at me, Lina hasn’t told her what’s happened.
“She’s in the garden.” Jana points at the window. “There, by the bat boxes.”
I turn my gaze to where Jana indicates. Lina’s hair, tied in a messy ponytail, shines like yellow gold in the sun. She’s drowning in one of my shirts, looking cute and sexy and like mine. I can’t tell if she’s wearing anything underneath. The shirttail reaches the back of her knees. Barefoot, she climbs up a ladder resting on the wall that cordons off the herb garden and peers into the wooden box fitted under the gutter.
Relief rushes through me. What did I expect? That Lina would’ve run after this morning’s lesson? Not even Zane would’ve bailed if I’d whipped him like I whipped Lina, and he’s a tough motherfucker.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I make my way outside, and stop next to the ladder where I have a nice view of Lina’s legs under the shirt. She’s wearing a cotton exercise short. Not totally naked under my shirt, after all. My possessive side is relieved. She’s mine to look at, to touch, and to punish.
The ladder rattles when she moves. I nearly have a fucking heart attack. My uncle died falling from a ladder. A broken rib punctured his lung.
I grip the ladder on both sides to secure it. “Get down from there.”
She startles and presses a palm to her heart. “For the love of Adam. You scared me.”
“Hold on with both hands.”
Her gaze sweeps over me. Annoyed. “What are you doing here?”
The angry schoolmistress look makes me hard. “I live here.”
She wants to roll her eyes, it’s there in the way she glances at the heaven, but she doesn’t. “You know what I mean. What are you doing home so early?”
“Checking on you and just as well.”
Ignoring me, she turns her attention back to the wooden box.
“You shouldn’t be out here in the heat of the day.”
“What do you care?” she mumbles with her nose in that damn box.
“You know I care. Get down.”
She extends a hand. “Pass me the towel.”
What happened to obeying, and please? I look around. There’s a towel neatly draped over the tap. “Why?”
Pulling her head out of the box, she sighs. “Never mind. I’ll get it myself.”
She stiffens when I wrap my hands around her waist to aid her as she climbs down. Mindful of her back, I keep my touch light. She doesn’t say thank you or push me away. When her feet hit the ground, she turns in my grip and stares at me warily. Her cheeks are flushed with heat and sweat beads on her forehead. Tendrils of golden hair stick to her temples. A sudden bout of tenderness overcomes me. I want to wrap her up in more of my clothes and carry her off to a happier ending, to a place where she doesn’t look at me like I’m the enemy. She’s so small, so goddamn, innocently beautiful it hurts to look at her.
I raise a hand to wipe one of those tendrils from her face, but she flinches and cowers. Goddamn, I’ll never hit her, not like this.
Moving slowly, I reach for her. She tenses, but she lets me frame her face between my palms. I use my thumbs to wipe the strands of hair away.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me, Lina.”
“I’m not.” She says it too quickly, too defensively.
I feel pain, real pain. It bleeds into my heart and spills out into my veins with the steady pump of regret. Things between us could’ve been so different. We could’ve been normal. A part of me can’t forgive her for not waiting. As irrational as it is, I can’t forgive her for not believing in me when Dalton accused me of stealing that diamond. I needed her to have faith in me. I needed her to want me, but she married Clarke and tried to find the evidence. She still wants to be free of me. She still chooses her father. Not going to happen.
She stands perfectly still. She waits. Frightened. Her heart gallops under the shirt. I can see it in the way the collar trembles.
“I won’t hurt you if you don’t deserve it.”
She swallows.
I take her in. Everything. “I like you in my clothes.”
She looks down. “I’m sorry. It’s the only loose thing I could find to wear. The other stuff hurts.” She swallows the last word, almost doesn’t pronounce it.
