Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(30)
“Darlin’, you have NOTHING to apologize for. All right?” And Roan drilled a look into her eyes, asking her to hold his gaze and not skitter away as she had done so many times before. Frightened animals and humans could never hold another’s gaze. Her eyes were red-rimmed, the softness of them tearing heavily at his guarded heart.
Shiloh sniffed and gave a brusque nod, her lower lip trembling. She was tearing him apart. Trying to be so brave in front of him. Roan wondered if this was how she looked when having to live with Anton Leath in her home with her mother; putting on that brave front even though she felt like a defenseless rabbit living with a rabid wolf underfoot.
To hell with it. He reached out and gently wiped away a last tear clinging to her pale cheek. Even through his thin leather glove, he could feel the pliancy of her soft skin. Shiloh blinked once as he grazed her flesh, taking that tear away. Roan didn’t see fear, disgust, or terror in her eyes when he touched her. It told him a lot. She didn’t fear him and their trust was still solid between them. Roan wanted to do so much more; frame her face, take that soft mouth of hers and capture it beneath his own, give and take with her, taste her fire, hear those sounds of pleasure catch in her slender throat. He was such a goner for this woman; knowing her tragic past made him just that much more protective of her than before.
“In my eyes,” he told her gruffly, veiled emotions behind his words, “you’re not only a survivor, Shiloh, but you’re courageous. You’re a warrior of another kind.” My kind. He didn’t dare say that, seeing her eyes suddenly lighten with hope and with another emotion he couldn’t translate. Pinkness seeped back into her wan cheeks and Roan felt good being able to say something that made Shiloh feel a little bit better. She’d gone through a special hell. One that made him want to shake his head because he couldn’t conceive of any eleven-year-old in that kind of circumstance. And she still turned out to be the beautiful, kind, and shy woman who was sitting right in front of him.
Dropping his hand to his thigh, he saw how his roughly spoken words fortified Shiloh. Her back straightened more, the tension bled off her shoulders, and he could see some of her normal confidence returning. It struck him that Shiloh might not have a support network back in New York City. And he wanted to find out.
“Are you close with your aunt and uncle?” he wondered. He watched her sit and clasp her hands in her lap.
“It’s a long story, Roan. My aunt and uncle were childless by choice. When my mother was murdered, I was sort of forced on them. I knew I was an imposition to their lives, but they did their best to accommodate me. Both of them were career people.”
“So, no mother at home?”
Shaking her head, she offered quietly, “Aunt Lynn hired a full-time nanny to be with me, to take me to school, pick me up, and make all my meals.”
Wincing internally, Roan remembered his family. To this day, they ate together. No matter what the ranch demanded, they all sat down together at night for dinner. It was a time to talk, exchange ideas, get support, and laugh. They laughed a lot around the dinner table. Cutting her a glance, he could see her cheeks had gone wan again. Damn, she was so easily touched by her emotions. Like a barometer. “But you got to see them on weekends?”
“Mostly, yes. They have a beautiful cabin in the Adirondack Mountains and we usually went there on weekends, which I just loved. It fed my soul.”
Rubbing his jaw, Roan watched the horses eating grass, his mind and heart on Shiloh. She really didn’t get the nurturing she needed after her mother was killed in front of her eyes. God, that had to be a terrible sentence for Shiloh, considering how shy and sensitive she was. Roan swallowed hard, feeling his throat tighten, feeling anger toward her aunt and uncle. Were they so narcissistic, so self-centered that they couldn’t see what a little girl needed after having her mother ripped savagely from her life? Hire a nanny? Let the nanny be the standin for the dead mother? He wanted to curse, but tightened his lips instead.
“Wasn’t that hard on you? Having a nanny?” He turned, watching her telling expression.
Opening her hands, Shiloh whispered, “No one could replace my mom, Roan. The nanny was wonderful. She was made aware of my loss and she tried her best to step in.”
“Why didn’t your aunt?” he growled.
“Auntie Lynn was focused on her career. She’s a very competitive person, Roan. She had goals she needed to meet.”
His mouth turned grimmer. His eyes hardened as he glared out at the horses. Roan did not want her to see his rage. Life was never fair, but in this kind of situation, Shiloh was like a piece of raw meat and her aunt might as well have poured salt in her wounds. She wasn’t there for Shiloh. A shadow. Doing her duty, but emotionally bankrupt with the child. Roan knew there were women who were childless, who made that choice, but none of them fit Lynn’s prototype. They were nurturing and maternal. And they could give back and were unselfish. Lynn was a piece of work, in Roan’s estimation.
Nervously moving her hands, Shiloh added, “My family has always been goal-oriented, Roan. Even I am.”
Roan understood what she was doing and let it slide. It would do no good to denigrate Auntie Lynn. At least the woman put a roof over her head, fed her, hired a nanny, and paid for her needs. That was better than nothing, but not by much, in his opinion. He pushed to his feet, turned, and offered her his hand. “Come on, there’s a special place I want to share with you.”