Taming Wilde (Waltzing with the Wallflower #3)(39)
She lifted her head and opened her eyes wide. Sunlight kissed her brown hair and reflected from her eyes, dark brown. Pink cheeks flushed. Her white teeth closed on her bottom lip, full and lush. Garrett's heartbeat quickened and his mouth went dry.
Under ordinary circumstances, Garrett would not, of course, be this intimate with a stranger. However, this circumstance was far from ordinary. And he suddenly found himself quite taken with the way her soft body cradled in the comfort of his. He hoped, in her current state, she wouldn't notice his physical reaction to her closeness.
Garrett tore his gaze from the beautiful woman who clung to him and glanced up. The tops of swaying grasses were visible above the rim of the opening. Almost there. He let out a sigh as the horse hauled them farther up the stone wall. "Hold tight, I'm able to see the top."
Another jerk higher and suddenly Garrett's head warmed in the sun. Halfway across the clearing, Ashe tugged again, his head down. The saddle was still in place and Garrett gave a gratified prayer it stayed intact. The horse would get a long rubdown and a sweet bran mash that night.
One final jerk of the rope, and Garrett dug his elbow into the ground, leveraging him and the woman up and over the well's lip. Another whistle cued Ashe to stop. Garrett untied the rope and laid the woman gently back on the ground. But her legs still dangled too close to the pit. He gathered her tight in his arms, pulled her back farther, and again laid her on the ground. She'd felt cold against him. If only he had a blanket to wrap her in.
He lay down beside her and sucked in a breath, his heartbeat slowing to a normal rhythm. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing was shallow and quick. Her skin looked soft as rose petals after a rain. A pinkish hue colored the curve of her cheek, in an otherwise pale face. Would it feel as soft as it looked? He opened his fingers, reached forward slowly, but pulled back, clenching his fist. He could not, no, he would not allow himself that privilege.
He scooted away, putting an appropriate distance between them. "Where are you hurt?"
She pointed toward her leg, but didn't open her eyes. "My a-ankle. I'm just catching my breath. I… I'll be fine in a moment."
The rise and fall of her chest slowed. Color returned to her face and lips. Her shivering stopped. Thank heavens!
Garrett stood and stretched and then walked toward Ashe and untied the rope from the saddle. His hands shook. How treacherous the rescue had been! How much it reminded him of a past he would rather forget.
He wrapped his arms around the horse's neck, and whispered, "What a good fellow you are, Ashe. I am in your debt." Ashe nodded his head and snorted out a deep breath. Garrett patted the horse on the rump and watched him plod away, head lowering toward the grass.
Garrett turned back toward the woman. Her brown eyes, now opened wide, blinked. Long black lashes brushed against her cheek, fanning around her eyes like petals on a daisy. What lay behind those dark eyes? What secrets did they hold? She struggled to sit up, but whimpered and lay back down, her hand tightening to a fist.
"Miss, you are in grave need of a physician. I know it will be difficult for you, but I must put you on my horse with me and ride back to my home. I will send for the local physician as soon as we are back at the house."
The woman nodded, but her eyes closed with the effort. She was still breathing but… had she lost consciousness? Guilt hit Garrett hard in the chest. He was the one ultimately responsible if tragedy befell this woman from her fall. All those years ago, someone had carelessly thrown another woman into that very well, tossing her aside as if her life were nothing more than refuse. If only someone had looked after her before it had gotten to that point.
He gritted his teeth. If it took Garrett until his last breath, he would take care of this woman and make this up to her. Somehow.
Another great read from Astraea Press
Chapter One
The tears started to fall even before I opened the stiff door to the nursing home. The only thing worse than saying goodbye was not saying goodbye. The wall's cream color blurred as I walked slowly down the hall toward Nanna's room. As I passed each wooden door, I glanced at the bronzed nameplate beside it. Each person within these walls had once been young like me, full of life, and now… now they waited.
Thankfully, Nanna wasn't fully aware of her surroundings; ignorance was bliss in her case. Usually the moment I opened the door to her room, a gentle smile would greet me. On a good day, she'd recognize me and try to fuss over my clothes or hair but today… today I knew that wasn't going to happen. The hospice nurse had called earlier urging me to come and say a final goodbye. My heart clenched.
As I drew closer to the door, I paused. I reached up to touch the nameplate, knowing someday soon it wouldn't be there anymore. Elinore Westin. With a heavy sigh, I turned the handle and entered, immediately assaulted by the sounds of an oxygen machine and the subtle scent of cleaning fumes. The bulky hospital bed made my grandmother's small frame appear even more delicate. She rested quietly beneath a pale pink quilt she and I had made years ago. Everything about her screamed fragile. I walked over to her bed and placed my hand on hers. The cool temperature of her skin gave me an involuntary shiver. There wasn’t much time left.
"Nanna? It's me, Jocelyn. I'm here to keep you company for a while. I know you missed me — I sure missed you since yesterday." There was no response, but I wasn't really expecting one. Nanna's hand began to warm as I held it gently. The soft white hair that was usually pulled into a knot at the base of her neck was carefully combed and draped over her shoulders. I brushed a few wisps away from her face and bent to kiss her wrinkled cheek. The familiar scent of her vanilla perfume comforted me. I leaned back so my tears wouldn't fall on her skin and wiped my face furiously. The nurse for hospice had said hearing was the last sense to go, so I knew she could hear my quiet sobs. In spite of my grief, I grinned. I could hear her voice in my mind berating me for shedding so many tears over her. She was ready to pass on. In truth, she had been ready for quite a while. She missed Grandpa Jakob. Even though she wasn't aware of reality all the time, she'd never forgotten him. Soon she'd see him again. The thought of their reunion comforted me.
Rachel Van Dyken's Books
- Risky Play (Red Card #1)
- Summer Heat (Cruel Summer #1)
- Co-Ed
- Cheater (Curious Liaisons, #1)
- Cheater (Curious Liaisons #1)
- Waltzing with the Wallflower
- Upon a Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)
- The Ugly Duckling Debutante (House of Renwick #1)
- Pull (Seaside #2)
- Waltzing with the Wallflower (Waltzing with the Wallflower #1)