Night After Night by Kate Donovan

Author:Kate Donovan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2012-09-17T16:00:00+00:00

Her heart was still pounding when she reached her room, so she forced herself to take several deep breaths, reminding herself of his last words.

Try not to take me so seriously.

Wasn’t that the problem? She paid far too much attention to the man, scrutinizing his every word, every action or inaction, for some clue to his true opinions and character.

“But his every word and action is calculated to mislead you,” she reminded herself. “He as much as told you that. He wants the children to fear him. He wants them—and you—to think he might do harm. That’s how he keeps the world at bay. Denny explained it all to you weeks ago, but you keep forgetting it.”

It was true. Coburn had made suggestive remarks, and placed his hands on her hips, to frighten her into thinking he might molest her, so that she would keep her distance. He carried weapons, and dressed in ominous black clothes, to instill fear in any curious observer. And yet he had not made one genuine attempt at seducing Maggie despite limitless opportunities. And it was logical to assume he also had never actually harmed another human being.

“Some warrior,” she decided with a fond smile. “And you were such a goose, for thinking that a man who loves books and poetry as much as Coburn does could also roam the countryside, armed and ready to take lives as needed. It’s all an illusion, created by him to protect his privacy.”

And when the illusions were swept aside, there was really only one thing Maggie knew for sure about the man: that books were his refuge. In some ways, that was really all the information she needed, wasn’t it?

He came here for the same reason you did—to bury himself in a carefully orchestrated world, one in which his heart and soul were completely protected from his past. Only in your case, June Riordain intervened. She forced you to share your secret with her and the simple telling of it, to a sympathetic soul, set your own soul free.

And Maggie ached with unexpected ferocity to do the same for Coburn. To show him that a trustworthy friend could be a refuge, too. She would prove herself to him, night after night, until the moment came when he could admit the truth to her—that his gun belt and scowl were artifices, designed to distract onlookers from seeing a gentle and harmless bookworm.

And will you miss the warrior just a bit? she asked herself gently.

The answer was simple: yes, the warrior had aroused her. There was no denying that. But she had had enough violence in her life, and so she would gladly say goodbye to Coburn’s dark side. She would embrace the poet—not literally, of course, but—

“You’re doing it again, Maggie-Margaret,” she scolded herself suddenly. “Didn’t he just warn you not to take him so seriously? Are you going to stay awake all night imagining what can and cannot happen in that library?”

Her gaze fell on the two love letters that she had piled, along with her books, on the dresser.

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