When You Dare - Lori Foster [64]
This time she filled her lungs with the brisk night air—and the freedom of it calmed her.
Dare would return tonight, and if he didn’t, she’d stay outside. Out here, she didn’t feel trapped or small or helpless. Having the wide-open skies over her was nothing like that cramped, airless room where they’d kept her chained up like an unwanted mutt, breathing the scents of fear and desperation and filth.
Where they had taken pleasure in tormenting her.
Hurting her.
But not too much, not enough to really injure her. They’d been waiting for something, she knew it.
But what?
When she stepped off the porch and onto the path, ambient security lights flickered on to show the way to the dock. She could hear the lake washing up to the rocky shoreline. She heard the teasing rustle of leaves, the songs of crickets and other night creatures.
She didn’t know what else might be out there with her, but she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore, not of this. Not of everyday, normal life. To the contrary, she’d never again take it for granted.
Off to the left of the path was the quaint white cottage where Chris lived. The large, front windows were shielded by drawn curtains, but light shone through, letting her know that Chris hadn’t yet gone to bed. Of course, he probably wouldn’t until Dare returned, because he felt responsible for her.
Dare did, too.
She wanted to be responsible for herself again.
Leaves blew over the path, crunched under her feet. The chill breeze cut through her, but she embraced it. She was alive, and after thinking she might die in that sweltering-hot, squalid little hellhole, being cold reminded her that she hadn’t let them win.
She’d held on—and then Dare had saved her.
The dock squeaked and rocked as she walked out onto it. The light didn’t reach this far, and she felt safely concealed in shadows provided by the high walls of the boathouse to her right. She moved close to it, letting it block some of the wind.
The moon painted a glow over the rippling surface of the lake, so beautiful that it engrossed her and further eased her angst. Molly sank down on the hard wooden planks with her knees drawn up close to her chest and wrapped the quilt tight around her.
How long she sat there, she wasn’t sure. Her thoughts drifted over the present and the future. She thought of Dare, of what he’d done for her, but more importantly, of who he was. Not many men could ever be like him. No other man would affect her this way.
Without even meaning to, she drew comparisons to Adrian, and felt like a fool. Now that she knew Dare, Adrian seemed less than insubstantial in every way. He didn’t have the strength of character or conviction that was such a part of Dare. He didn’t possess even a fraction of Dare’s honor and courage.
And in no way did he possess the same sex appeal. Around Dare, she could not ignore her own sexuality—as she’d often done with Adrian.
She couldn’t discount the incredible circumstances, because they had happened; they served as an impetus for everything that followed. But what she felt didn’t depend on what she’d suffered, or how Dare had saved her.
If she’d met him back in Ohio, maybe while on a book tour, she still would have recognized him as an amazing man. She had to believe that.
When she heard the sound of a car approaching high up on the road, she turned to see the headlights veer into the drive.
She knew it was Dare, and relief left her boneless. She considered going up to greet him but…she wasn’t ready yet.
Sitting there on the dock beneath the wide-open skies, snuggled into the quilt, feeling safe and serene kept her captivated. It enabled her to think objectively.
More comparisons presented themselves as she thought of her abductors and how Dare helped her to put the ugliness into perspective.
The men had hurt her, but Dare eased the pain.
They had taunted her; Dare reassured her.
They belittled her, and Dare showed her respect.
He served as the antithesis to all the harsh, ugly memories. Through him, she could counter the remaining abhorrence and lingering fears.
He