Magnificent Folly - Iris Johansen [27]
Sweet Mary, he looked so unhappy. She had never meant to hurt Andrew, yet there was no question she had done so. Pain swept through her, and she took an impulsive step forward. “Andrew, I want to trust you.”
“Well, that’s a start, anyway.”
She took another step and was in his arms, pressing her tear-wet cheek to his chest. “I don’t want you to go away,” she said. “It would hurt me if you left me.”
His arms tightened around her. “Another giant step,” he said thickly. “Since I’ve already established that I don’t want to hurt you, I guess I’ll just have to stick around a while longer.”
Joy exploded within her. “But you said you’d run out of time. I don’t want to interfere with—”
His lips moving on her own were hard, sweet, hot. “Interfere. Lord, sweetheart, interfere!”
She broke free from him and took a step back. “I’m … I’m not promising anything.” She was almost stammering, she realized in disgust. “You must do as you think best.”
“You’re shying away again.” A radiant smile lit his face. “But we’ve definitely made a breakthrough, my love.”
She smiled back at him, feeling young, exhilarated, and brimming with hope. Great heavens, how long had it been since she had felt like this? “I believe we have at that, my lo—” She stopped.
He nodded understandingly. “One day at a time. A little today, a little more tomorrow. You can do it, Lily.”
“Yes.” Standing there, with her gaze lingering on the strength and gentleness of his face, she could almost believe the formula could work, that Andrew could make it work. “Maybe I can do it, Andrew.”
FIVE
SHE HAD HEARD something.
Lily fought her way from the depths of sleep to half waking. The sound in the living room had not been loud, but it should not have existed. Cassie? Maybe Cassie was ill or had gone to the bathroom.
The whisper of sound came again, now just outside her bedroom door.
“Cassie?” she called, struggling up on one elbow. “Are you all right, baby?”
No answer. The sound had stopped.
Perhaps she had only imagined the noise, she thought drowsily. She started to settle back on her pillows. Then her eyes flew open as she went rigid with fear. She had called out, and the sound had stopped. Someone knew she was awake and was trying not to arouse her suspicions.
The sound had been a footstep!
A burglary? How had a thief gotten inside the cottage? She was sure she had locked the front door when she had come back to the house that night. Sweet heaven, why was she worrying about the hows and whys? There was someone just outside her bedroom door!
She rolled over in bed and carefully pulled open the drawer of the bedside table, her ears straining to hear any trace of sound outside the door. Nothing. But someone was still there. She could feel it.
She took the pistol out of the drawer, slid off the safety lock, and swung her feet to the floor.
The footsteps started again.
Lily froze, her hand clutching the butt of the pistol. She would wait until the thief came into her room, and then—
But he was not coming toward her room. The sound of the steps was fading as he moved away from her door.
He was going toward Cassie’s room.
No! She was out of bed and halfway across the room in the instant of realization. She threw open the door and flicked on the wall switch.
“Get the hell away from her, damn you!”
The man who whirled away from Cassie’s door was a little over medium height, dark-complexioned, with a scar slashing down his right cheek. Ugliness. Not only of the body, but of the soul. The impression of malice overwhelmed Lily even as his startled gaze fell on the pistol in her hand. “You don’t understand.” His words were thickly accented. “Put down the pistol.”
“The hell I will. Get away from that door and sit down over there.” She gestured with the pistol to the high-backed easy chair across the room. “We’ll see what the sheriff says about this little burglary.” She stepped from the doorway of the bedroom in the direction of the telephone on the pine end table by the couch. “I understand the authorities are very hard on thieves