Hero in Her Heart Page 14

  He flipped a few more pages, then stopped, hand frozen on the page. This was a different era on the farm, judging by the car that stood in the lane.

  The sour-faced woman who had to be Nolie’s great-aunt stood a couple of paces behind a wild-eyed, bearded character who looked like someone’s screwy idea of an Old Testament prophet. This was Brother Joshua, presumably. He had the air of a fanatic who’d sacrifice anyone and anything to his version of the truth.

  Another figure stood beside the aunt, head bent in a subservient posture. The child’s slight frame was shrouded in an ugly dark dress that fell to her ankles, and her hair had been completely covered by a black scarf. Nolie.

  A wave of nausea swept over him. He’d listened. He’d sympathized. And he hadn’t had the faintest idea of what she’d gone through.

  Max leaned against him, whining a little, and then looked through the open door toward the sunshine.

  “I know what you mean, Max. There’s something pretty sick in here.” It was as if a miasma of misery and evil clung to the very furniture.

  Poor Nolie. She’d said she was over her past, but Claire was right. She clearly wasn’t over it, not when she kept her past locked up in this shed.

  And Claire was right about something else. Nolie was vulnerable. He had to be careful.

  That thought was still uppermost in Gabe’s mind an hour later, when he closed the cottage door behind him and Max. He straightened his tie.

  “What do you think, Max? Will we do?”

  Max waved his tail. The dog probably felt more at home in the company they were going to encounter tonight than he did. Well, like it or not, he’d promised. He stepped off the porch, Max at his heels.

  They crossed the lawn toward the farmhouse. Its lighted windows sent a welcoming glow across the grass. He couldn’t help a glance toward the shed. The barn’s bulk hid it, but he knew it was there now. He couldn’t forget about it any more than Nolie could.

  How did anyone get over a childhood experience like hers? He felt momentarily ashamed of his happy childhood. He’d had it so easy, compared to what Nolie had gone through. Alone. She’d done it alone and come out a whole person, but she had her scars. She had to, even though she functioned well.

  Just be careful, he warned himself. Now that he understood, it was more important than ever that he resist that attraction that tugged at him each time he was near her. There were too many barriers between them in any event, and this put the final piece of the barricade in place.

  Arranging an impersonal smile on his face, he rapped on the door.

  “Come in.” Nolie’s voice echoed faintly.

  He opened the front door and stepped into the living room, Max beside him. He closed the door, glancing around. He’d been in the farmhouse kitchen a number of times, but he hadn’t been in this room.

  Obviously Nolie’s redecorating efforts had been at work here. The multi-paned windows were draped with crisp white ruffled curtains, and a colorful rag rug brightened the wide planks of the floor. Everything about the room, from the buttery-soft leather sofa to the built-in bookshelves crowded with books to the wide brick hearth said that this space was designed for the comfort and happiness of the person who lived here.

  What had it been like during Nolie’s childhood? Nothing like this, that was certain. She’d wiped her aunt’s baleful presence from the room, maybe even from the farmhouse, but she hadn’t been able to get rid of it entirely. It lingered in that rundown shed.

  Would he ever tell her that he’d seen it? Probably not. To do so would be admitting to a depth of relationship that wasn’t possible for them. That was why Claire had sent him there. She’d wanted him to see that he wasn’t the man for Nolie.

  “Sorry if I kept you waiting.” Nolie came quickly down the stairs, hand running along the polished rail.

  He took a strangled breath, feeling as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. Maybe Claire should have thought twice about what Nolie was wearing tonight if she wanted him to stay away from her. That clingy black dress accentuated every delectable curve of Nolie’s body, and the skirt flirted around legs that certainly looked different in black stockings than they did in jeans.

  She’d reached the bottom, and she was looking at him strangely. He had to say something.

  “I wasn’t here long.” Surprisingly, his voice sounded almost normal. “Max and I didn’t have to do all that much to get ready.”

  “Well, you both look very nice.” Her gaze swept over his dark suit. Approving, he thought. He straightened his tie again.

  “I only put a suit on for weddings and funerals. Good thing it still fits.”

  “I wish I hadn’t had to do much to get ready. Claire can go from office to party in ten minutes flat, but she’s in practice. This took a lot of work.”

  “It was worth it.” He may as well tell her the truth. “You look breathtaking.”

  Color flooded her cheeks. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His tie seemed to be strangling him. “Well, are we ready to go knock them dead at this thing?”

  “Not quite.” She held out her hand, a chain dangling from it. “Claire insisted on this necklace with the dress, but I can’t get it fastened. Will you give me a hand?”

  “Sure.” He tried to sound casual as he fumbled with the cobweb-fine chain.

  Nolie turned her back to him, sweeping that silky fall of pale gold hair away from the nape of her neck. All he wanted to do was press his lips against that smooth curve of skin.

  Concentrate, he commanded himself. He swung the necklace around her neck, careful not to touch her. If Nolie knew the longing that pounded through his veins, she’d run screaming from the house. That would certainly be safer.

  His fingers brushed the nape of her neck as he fumbled with the catch. It was so fine he nearly dropped it, but that wasn’t why his fingers didn’t seem to work.

  He leaned a little closer, inhaling the flowery scent that clung to her skin. A bit nearer, and he’d give in to the temptation to drop a kiss. Except that it would amount to more than that, and he knew it.

  He fastened the clasp, letting his fingertips linger for a moment against her warm, smooth skin. The Nolie he’d seen in that photograph hadn’t had anything pretty to wear, or anyone to tell her how lovely she was. She hadn’t had any evenings of innocent enjoyment.

  So he’d take her to the foundation party, and he’d see to it that she had a good time. He’d do everything she wanted him to do tonight.

  But he wouldn’t give in to the longing to have her in his arms—he wasn’t going to be the one to hurt her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Nolie glanced at the dashboard clock as she pulled between the lion-headed gate posts at Townsend Manor. “We’re a few minutes late.”

  “Looks like a lot of people are fashionably late.” Gabe nodded toward the cars ahead of them that clogged the circular drive.

  Her fingers felt damp against the steering wheel. “I don’t know much about this place. No one’s ever invited me to anything here before.”

  “There was a piece in the paper about it when the family donated the estate to the city. Supposed to be pretty elegant. The original Townsend made his money in railroads back when that meant you should build the fanciest place you could afford to show how rich you were.”

  The house came into view as she pulled around the curving drive toward a portico where uniformed attendants waited to take the car.

  “Valet parking, no less.” That just increased her bad case of butterflies. “My van is really going to look out of place in the midst of all those luxury sedans.”

  “Hey.” Gabe reached across to clasp her hand in a brief message of support. “When this place was in its heyday, the only Irishman who’d be here would have been a coachman. Times change. You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”

  Before she could respond, the attendant was opening her door. She slid out, waiting while Gabe and Max came around the ca
r to join her. He took her arm, his touch sending a shiver sliding along her skin.

  “Relax,” he said softly. “It’s just a house.”

  She glanced at the cream-and-yellow mansion that loomed over them. A stream of couples moved through the double doors onto a wide expanse of light-splashed marble. The glittering chandelier set up answering sparkles from sequined dresses.

  “Trust me, that is not just a house. And these are not just people. Not to a country mouse like me.”

  Gabe drew her hand through the crook of his arm, so that it rested on his sleeve. She felt the reassuring strength of him through the smooth fabric of his dark suit.

  “We’re here for a reason. Just keep that in mind. At least no one will try to throw Max out tonight.”

  His muscles tensed as he spoke, and she knew what he was thinking. He was afraid of having a public seizure in front of all these people.

  She wasn’t much better. She was afraid of Brother Joshua leaping out of the crowd to call her a harlot for wearing makeup and a pretty dress. They made quite a pair.

  The line of people moved forward, carrying them with it. She took a deep breath. Okay. If Gabe could conquer his demons enough to go through with this, so could she. She had too much at stake to give in to her fears tonight.

  But she was glad for the support of Gabe’s arm, pressing against her as they walked into the wide center hallway.

  The Townsend place was just as elegant as it looked from the outside. The Townsend family had apparently donated the furnishings along with the house, and a marble-topped sideboard had been pressed into service to hold white place cards bearing names in graceful calligraphy.

  Gabe reached out to pluck a card with their names on it from its place. “Table Ten. With a little luck, that won’t be right in the front.”

  “I suppose there’s not a chance we’ll actually know anyone at the table.” She hoped she didn’t sound as out of place as she felt.

  Gabe shrugged. “You never can tell. Let’s see what it looks like.”

  Arm in arm, with Max padding sedately at Gabe’s heels, they followed the crowd through a wide arch-way into a ballroom that ran the length of the building.

  “Wow.” She couldn’t find another word.

  Elegantly dressed couples mingled across the polished wood floor, finding seats at round, white-linen-covered tables. Candle flames echoed the glittering points of light from crystal chandeliers. Rows of white columns marched down either side of the room, setting off dimly lit alcoves.

  Gabe stared at the marble statue of a female form in Greek robes that peered out from the nearest alcove, and then the corner of his mouth lifted. “Looks as if they borrowed this lot from the Parthenon. Or a Hollywood set.”

  The humor in his voice lightened her mood. “Funny to think of someone actually living like this, isn’t it?”

  He grinned at her. “You mean you wouldn’t trade the chickens and the donkey for a few columns?”

  “Not a chance. But I can enjoy it for one night.”

  He patted her hand. “That’s right. Just remember, we’re in this together.”

  He didn’t mean anything by that. Of course he didn’t. They weren’t really the partners his words had implied. Still, she couldn’t stem the warmth they engendered.

  They crossed the room, glancing at table numbers until they found the right table. One glance at the six people already seated sent her nerves chattering again, but Gabe seemed perfectly at ease. Apparently he knew one of the men from some civic organization, which eased the introductions to the rest of them.

  Nolie smiled, nodded and slipped into her seat with a silent prayer of thanksgiving for Gabe’s presence. She’d have gotten through this evening alone, if she’d had to, but Gabe certainly made it easier. Maybe she’d be better off not to dwell on why that was.

  Superficial conversation flowed around the table. She knew perfectly well that the other people were curious about the dog, but no one was impolite enough to ask. It was almost a relief when the clink of a spoon on glass drew everyone’s attention to the head table.

  Her tension peaked. She’d been warned that she would be introduced at this point. Thank heavens no one expected her to say anything—just stand and smile. She could do that.

  Samuel Henley beamed around the room as he welcomed everyone as warmly as if they were guests in his private home. He spoke briefly about the work of the foundation and then glanced down at a card on the podium.

  “Now I’d like to introduce one of the candidates for this year’s grant. Please welcome Nolie Lang, director of Nolie’s Ark, a program training service animals to assist people with disabilities.”

  It’s sinful to call attention to yourself. Sinful.

  Somehow she couldn’t totally eliminate the tape of her aunt’s voice that played in the back of her mind. But the quick, hard squeeze of Gabe’s fingers on hers seemed to give her energy as she stood.

  She managed a smile as people clapped. They applauded for the program, not for her, but she actually seemed to catch a gleam of admiration in the eyes that were on her.

  She sank back into her chair with relief, her gaze meeting Gabe’s. Her breath caught. It was really unfortunate that the only look of admiration that meant anything to her was the one shining in Gabe’s eyes.

  Much to Gabe’s surprise, the evening had actually gone pretty well. Once the meal and the speeches were over, people circulated, chatting. Clearly they assumed, given Nolie’s introduction, that Max was a service dog, but no one asked for what.

  Maybe they weren’t even thinking that Max was his service dog. It was possible they thought the dog had been brought for display, and that her human companion was here as Nolie’s date.

  He looked at her. She’d begun to relax, apparently realizing that no one was going to chase her out of here. Her eyes sparkled as she explained something about her program to a questioner, but she glanced over the man’s shoulder to meet his eyes, giving him a small, private smile.

  His heart jolted. She was just too beautiful for his peace of mind, and the fact that her beauty extended all the way to her soul didn’t help any. He had to remind himself that his purpose tonight was to help Nolie without getting too close.

  A jazz quartet was playing in the corner, and couples had begun to move onto the dance floor. Nolie made her way to his side. She nodded toward the dancers.

  “What do you say? Claire dragged me to ballroom dance classes a couple of years ago, but I’ve never had a chance to practice what I learned.”

  Holding Nolie in his arms was certainly not the best way to keep his distance. But she was looking at him with stars shining in her eyes, and he didn’t want to disappoint her.

  “What will Max do while we dance?” He tried for a light touch. “You know you’re his best girl. He might be jealous.”

  Max looked up at the sound of his name and gave them a wide doggy grin.

  “He’ll have to get along without me when he goes home with his partner, anyway.” She was obviously being careful not to make assumptions about Max going home with him. “I’ll probably be the one who does most of the missing.”

  Her words touched his heart. “It’s hard to say goodbye to animals you’ve come to love.”

  “It’s part of the job.” Her eyes were shadowed for a moment. Maybe she was thinking that she had to say goodbye to people she’d learned to love, as well. “Just tell him to stay.”

  “Stay, Max.”

  He shouldn’t hold Nolie in his arms. He was going to. He held out his hand to her and led her onto the dance floor.

  They moved smoothly, as if they’d danced together many times before and would again. She was warm and sweet in his arms, and when she looked at him his breath caught at her beauty.

  They circled the room slowly to the music, feet whispering on the polished floor. The other couples faded to a moving background against which he and Nolie danced, lost in each other’s eyes. He could feel the movement of her breathing
through the hand he pressed against her back, and even their breathing was in tandem.

  They moved between two of the pillars, out of the stream of dancers for the moment. His steps slowed, and he lifted his hand to touch the strand of pale gold hair that lay against her shoulder.

  “Beautiful. You know that, don’t you?”

  Instead of a smile, something dark and pained crossed her face. She shook her head in a short, choppy movement.

  He drew her a little closer. “Nolie? What is it? What did I say?”

  “Nothing.”

  But it was something. He could see that. “You can tell me. Please.”

  She glanced toward the dancers. “Not here.”

  French doors stood open behind them, letting a warm spring breeze into the room. Clasping her hand, he pulled her through the opening onto a dimly lit veranda.

  “Now tell me.” He wasn’t sure what pushed him. He only knew he had to erase that pain from her eyes if he could.

  She put a hand up to her hair. “I shouldn’t let it bother me after all this time. I don’t even know why I thought of it.”

  The words were dismissive, but the pain wasn’t. It throbbed like a wound under her voice, and he knew he was right to push the issue.

  “Because it still hurts. Tell me what they did to you.”

  She turned away as if she didn’t want to look at him, her profile delicately beautiful in the moonlight and fragile as glass.

  “I was about thirteen. I guess Brother Joshua noticed I wasn’t a little girl anymore. He grabbed me one day out behind the barn.” A shudder went through her. “He kissed me. I don’t know what else he might have done, but my aunt came out and caught us.”

  “Caught him,” he corrected, managing to keep his voice gentle in spite of the anger that raced through his veins like fire. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”