Honor Bound(35)

"When?"

"Today. Released this time. I walked out a free man."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

The conversation was ridiculous, of course, but for someone having just received the shock of her life, Aislinn thought she was doing fairly well. She hadn't fainted at the sight of Lucas Greywolf She was maintaining her equilibrium with the help of the door, though her palms had become so slick with perspiration that she might slide down its smooth surface at any moment. Her mouth was dry, but she hadn't completely lost her capacity for speech. If the world had suddenly turned upside down, she couldn't have been more astounded. Taking all that into consideration, her behavior was remarkable.

"May I come in?"

One hand fluttered up to her throat. "I … I don't think that's a very good idea." My God! Lucas Greywolf in her house? No!

He stared down at the toes of his boots for a moment, then raised those unforgettable gray eyes up to hers. "It's important or I wouldn't trouble you."

"I—"

"I won't stay but for a minute. Please."

She looked everywhere but directly into his face, knowing that it would exude the determination of the Rock of Gibraltar to remain standing where it was. There was a hint of humility in his tone, but it was backed by generations of Indian resolve.

Finally she nodded briefly and moved aside. He came in and she shut the door behind him. The entrance hall seemed to shrink around them. She had been under the same roof with him for fewer than ten seconds, but already she was having difficulty breathing.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked hoarsely. Say no, say no.

"Yes, please. This is my first stop."

She almost tripped on her way into the kitchen. Why here? Why had he made her house his first stop? Her hands were shaking as she reached into the cabinet for a glass. "A soft drink?" she asked.

"Fine."

She took a can of soda out of the refrigerator and opened it. It spewed over her hand. She yanked up a towel and clumsily blotted the sticky mess off her hand and the countertop. She was all thumbs as she opened the freezer and took out ice cubes, thunking them into the glass. Only when she had poured the soda over the ice did she turn around. Disconcertingly, her eyes were on a level with his chest. She was surprised to find him still standing.

"I'm sorry. Please sit down." She nodded toward the table.

He pulled out a chair and sat down, accepting the cold drink with a terse thank-you. His eyes roamed around the kitchen. They stopped on the rack of knives, then slowly moved to her. "I wouldn't have used the knife on you."

"I know." Before her knees gave way, she sank into the chair across the table from his. "I mean I know that now. Then, I was scared to death."

"You demonstrated remarkable courage."

"I did?"

"I thought so. But then you were my first hostage."

"You were my first abductor."

They should have smiled then. Neither of them did.

"Has your hair grown back out?"

"What?"

"Your hair. Remember that hank of it I chopped off?"

"Oh, yes," she said distractedly. Unconsciously she reached for that shorter strand. "It's tucked in there somewhere. Barely noticeable now."

"Good."

He sipped his drink. She pressed her hands together and slid them between her thighs, keeping her arms stiff. The tension squeezing her chest felt very much as she imagined a heart attack would. She feared suffocation.

From moment to moment she didn't know if she could stand the anxiety any longer without losing control. However, the silence was more unbearable than the stilted conversation, so she asked, "Have you been home yet, seen your mother?"

He shook his head. "I meant it when I said this is my first stop."

He hadn't even seen his mother before coming here? Don't panic yet, Aislinn. "How did you get here?"

"Mother and Gene came to the prison last week. Gene left my truck there."

"Oh." She rubbed her palms up and down her thighs, wiping the sweat on her jeans. But her hands were cold and her bare toes felt bloodless. "Why did you come here?"

"To thank you."

Startled, she looked straight at him. His steady stare caused her tummy to do a flip-flop. "Thank me?"

"Why didn't you press charges against me?"

She let go of her pent-up breath on a rushing gust. If that's all he wanted to know, she could live with that. "The sheriff and all those policemen who came to pick you up didn't even know about me." She recounted for him the events that followed his capture. "They had taken you away before anyone even noticed me coming down off that mountain."

Their eyes met fleetingly, each remembering what had taken place on that mountaintop.

Quickly she started speaking again. "They, uh, they questioned me about who I was and what I was doing there with you." She blushed, recalling how awkward she had felt, wondering if the men who interrogated her could tell that she had recently been made love to. Her hair had been a mess. Her lips had still felt swollen from ardent kisses. Her breasts still tingled. Her thighs—

"What did you say?"