Strong, Hot Winds by Iris Johansen

Author:Iris Johansen [Johansen, Iris]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Large Type Books, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780816151752
Google: hV4bAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0553219197
Publisher: G.K. Hall
Published: 1988-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

Five

Cory must have dozed off sometime during the night, because when she opened her eyes it was with a jarring sense of alarm.

"Michael ..." She jerked straight up in bed, her gaze flying around the room, searching the darkness. "Michael!"

"Michaels fine." It was Damon's voice from across the room, and she saw him now, standing in front of one of the lattice-shuttered windows gazing out into the darkness through one of the intricately carved openings in the design. "You must have been dreaming."

She hadn't been dreaming, she thought hazily. It was when she had awakened that she had felt an overpowering sense of sorrow, an agony of intense emotion. Her maternal Instincts had automatically connected it with Michael, but now she realized those waves of sorrow were coming from Damon.

She brushed the hair from her face and sat staring at him. He was dressed once again in the khaki shirt and sand-colored jeans and she could see the outline of his strong buttocks and wide shoulders against the white of the shutters. His spine was rigid, taut with a tension that was almost unbearable. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing." His finger reached out and touched the smooth inner edge of the fretwork opening of one of the palm designs. "You can't see much through these windows, can you? Just glimpses, only half the view."

"Maybe that was the idea," Cory said. "Maybe if the woman who lived here were given the entire picture, she would never have stayed a prisoner."

"Perhaps." Damon didn't turn around. "Or it could be that she was content to see only the small slice she was given. It can be a great comfort not to see more than you want to see."

He was talking about something more than a mere view from the window, she realized. The undercurrents of pain she had felt before were rising and she was sensitive to them to a degree that startled her. Only with Michael had she had that close linking of emotions.

It didn't mean anything, she assured herself quickly. It was probably only the aftermath of her acceptance that Damon was just as much a part of Michael as she was. Still, since the link was there, it would do no harm to try to lessen his pain.

"Would you like to talk?" she asked quietly. "Sometimes it helps."

"Not now. It's not over yet." He was silent a moment. "Thank you for not sending me away."

"Would you have gone?"

"Probably not. I needed to be with you." He paused. "But it feels better like this."

"Why don't you come back to bed?"

"I can't relax." He shifted restlessly. "Go back to sleep."

She gazed at him helplessly for a moment before settling back on the pillows. She turned to face him again, tucking her hand beneath her cheek. She was once again conscious of the tortured tension of his body. She knew she couldn't go back to sleep again. Not with Damon standing there so silent and alone.

Waiting.

There was a knock on the door shortly after the first pale gray light of dawn pierced the darkness.

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