Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(26)
She scowled. “Well,” she began hesitantly, “that’s not quite true. . . .”
Roan’s brows dipped as he felt a shift in her thoughts. Nothing obvious, but as a long-time operator who was used to picking up on a person’s real feelings, this snagged his full interest. Studying her, he saw she was avoiding looking at him, that her full lower lip was being chewed on between her teeth. There was a lot more to Shiloh’s story than he’d originally realized. He had to tread lightly, feeling as if an IED was sitting between them. Invisible, but there just the same. He saw her worrying the water bottle, slowly turning it around between her fingers, staring hard at it.
“Can you talk about it?” he wondered, holding her unsure gaze. She looked so scared for a millisecond and then hid her reaction from him. It took everything not to lift his arm and place it around her suddenly tense shoulders.
Shrugging, she whispered, “It’s not something I tell many people about.”
“Does Maud know?”
Shaking her head, feeling bereft, Shiloh uttered weakly, “No . . .”
Roan’s mouth thinned and he waited. He knew there was trust building between them, felt it and saw it back at the barn when they worked with Charley. Whatever Shiloh was holding on to, it was big. He could feel her emotionally wrestling with it. Had he accidentally stepped on an IED with her? Sure as hell felt like it. And here, he thought her simple question about his walls was a tempest in a teapot. Yet, there was a side to him that was ultra-protective toward any woman or child who couldn’t adequately defend themselves. Roan supposed it came from his upbringing, his dad who said it was the place of man to protect those who were vulnerable, no matter what. But there was more to it than just wanting to protect Shiloh. His reaction to her was almost visceral.
“That’s all right,” he said, “You don’t have to talk about it” he said quietly, meeting and searching her eyes fraught with anguish. What had he stirred up?
Shiloh knew in her heart she could trust Roan with her life. Literally. Don’t ask her how she knew it. She just did. And the way he gruffly asked her, his eyes clearly concerned, something very old and painful broke deep within her. “I trust you,” she said, a little breathless. For a moment, she watched the horses contentedly eat the thick green grass around where they stood.
Pulling her legs up against her body, Shiloh wrapped her arms around them, staring out across the grassy valley. “When my dad died of a heart attack, I was eight years old, and I saw my mother fall apart. For a year after that, she was lost . . . she loved my father so much. It was hard on both of us in different ways.” Shiloh pushed some strands of hair away from her cheek, feeling the anguish return, pushing up through her, making her want to cry. “And then, my mother was at a Manhattan gallery opening for her paintings, the rich and famous attended it. She met a multimillionaire construction owner, Anton Leath.” Her mouth curved downward, corners in. So many feelings came to life within her. Feelings she didn’t ever want to feel again. But here they were just as bright and intense as the day she’d felt them. Would they EVER go away?
“You didn’t like him?” Roan asked, seeing her expression grow pained. He sensed such anxiety and anguish around her and yet, it wasn’t showing up on her face. His arms literally itched to enfold her, hold her against him, hold her safe from something tragic that had happened to her. He found himself holding his breath and, at the same time, starting to automatically shove his own feelings down in that box. It was an instinctive, trained reaction whenever he felt danger. But the danger was around Shiloh. Because he cared a helluva lot more than he should, Roan knew he was being deeply and intensely affected by her reaction.
As she shook her head, the words stuck like peanut butter in her throat. She felt it closing up on her, felt the terror stalking her once more. “My mother didn’t know,” she began hoarsely, refusing to look at Roan. “She didn’t know. . . .” Rubbing her face, trying to will away that time in her life, she could feel the powerful protection of Roan invisibly surrounding her. He hadn’t made a move to touch her, and yet, she felt that blanket surround her like unseen arms and it gave her the courage to go on. “Leath was a sexual predator.” Her words came out quietly. Filled with angst. “I was nine when she married him. I never liked him. I was afraid of him. He seemed so nice on the surface. Always smiling. But he kept touching me. Always touching me. I hated his touching my hair, my shoulder, or my clothes. I didn’t want his contact, but my mom thought it was sweet of him to pay so much attention to me.”
Roan closed his eyes for a moment, his mouth hardening into a thin line. He had no idea. None. But hearing Shiloh’s low, pain-filled voice, it was starting to rip him apart internally because he couldn’t not care for her. His gloved hands slowly flexed into fists and he had to forcefully remind himself to relax. “Then,” he rasped, “it wasn’t a stepfather’scaring-for-his-child kind of contact?” Roan knew it wasn’t, but he could see Shiloh struggling. His heart crashed when she looked up at him, like that child of nine, utterly unprotected, being hunted by the bastard, her eyes filled with anguish.
“N-no, it wasn’t. The first time he came into my room it was at night when I was ten. My mother had gone to sleep, and he sneaked in. He began touching my chest, my hips, and I screamed. I tried to get away from him, Roan. I think my scream scared him and he quickly got up and left.”