Lost In His Arms

“Why did you marry him?” His eyes held a genuine bewilderment.

“It wasn’t just because I was pregnant,” she said defensively. “And I certainly wasn’t looking to cash in on the McCarthy fortune, even though I knew that’s what you believed.” She raised her chin, like a prizefighter anticipating a blow. “I was seventeen years old and I thought I loved Richard.”

“You and Richard were both far too young to know about love.”

“Try telling that to two hormone-driven teenagers,” she said dryly. In all the years of her marriage and in the years since her divorce, she and Talbot had never spent any time together alone and had certainly never discussed her marriage to his brother and subsequent divorce.

She frowned thoughtfully, her mind flitting back in time. “I was desperate to belong somewhere. Richard was handsome and fun and seemed to want all the same things I wanted. I desperately wanted to believe that we could build something together. A family.”

She wanted, needed Talbot to understand. She reached out and touched his arm. “Haven’t you ever felt passionate about something, about someone?”

“At the moment I’m feeling pretty passionate about getting out of here.” He rose to his feet. “We’d better keep moving in what little daylight is left.”

He limped off under his own steam, and Elizabeth hurried to catch up. She’d wanted him to understand what forces had initially pulled her toward Richard and ultimately what forces had driven them apart. But it was obvious he didn’t care to know.

As she stared at his broad back, she realized he hadn’t answered her question. He’d probably never felt passion for anyone, she thought. He’d always struck her as a man who would never understand passion, or love or need.

He’d always appeared strong in his isolation, content with his aloneness. What she didn’t understand was why this knowledge of him created a strange ache inside her.

Chapter Three

T here had only been one thing in his adult life that had inspired passion in Talbot. To his utter shame and guilt, that something had been his brother’s wife. He’d desired her, but knew he would never, ever follow through on that desire.

Still, even reminding himself of this fact didn’t ease the pressure that had been building inside him. And he felt that if they didn’t get out of these woods soon, if he didn’t get away from her, he might explode. The consequences of such an explosion could be devastating to his brother.

Ever since she’d opened her suitcase and he’d spied those red lace panties, his mind had been filled with tantalizing visions of her wearing them and nothing else.

However, what bothered him more than his visions of a half-naked Elizabeth was the vulnerability he’d seen in her for the very first time.

He’d seen the softness in her eyes as she’d spoken of wanting to belong, and he didn’t want to think of Elizabeth as soft. He had seen a strange, wistful light in her gaze when she’d told him that she’d learned early on that venting meant trouble.

He didn’t want to think of her as soft and sweet and somehow needy.

They walked until the sunlight had faded and dusk was deepening. “We’d better stop for the night,” he finally said, reluctant to give up but knowing it was foolhardy to stumble around in the dark.

Elizabeth sank onto the ground with a weary sigh. “I feel like we’re in some kind of demented fairy tale, and our curse is to forever wander and never find our way out of this forest.”

Talbot eased down beside her, not looking at her. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all this.”

Her features were nearly hidden by the deepening darkness. “That’s the second time you’ve apologized, and I told you before, it isn’t necessary. I don’t blame you for this mess. I just…I just miss Andrew and hope he isn’t terribly worried.”

Tears suddenly shimmered in her blue eyes and he saw the slight tremble of her lower lip. With amazement, he realized she was on the verge of crying.

Surely not. Not Elizabeth. His mind rejected the very idea of her crying. He’d seen her bail Richard out of jail and never shed a tear. He’d watched her in the throes of labor, when Richard had been playing basketball with a bunch of buddies and couldn’t be reached, and no tears had dampened her eyes.