Code of Honor (Australian Destiny Book #1) by Sandra Dengler

Author:Sandra Dengler [Dengler, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Christian, Historical, General
ISBN: 9781441262547
Google: kLjj4NcOD3AC
Publisher: Baker Books
Published: 1988-07-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Obsession

What a mess. What a royal mess! For the hundredth time, Luke Vinson berated himself violently for his foolishness. He should have known why those energetic little boys were romping around so cautiously. Even if they didn’t, he should have known….

Hindsight. Would that his foresight were one tenth as good as his hindsight. Luke snickered. Were man’s foresight that good, the children of Israel wouldn’t have suffered all the problems that came of their departures from the straight and narrow. He certainly wasn’t alone in foolishness, when one views the cataclysms of history.

He studied himself in the mirror and tried to decide how to shave the blond stubble emerging from the coral cuts on his face. Prudently, he withdrew the razor. Hudson Taylor, Dwight L. Moody, Chinese Gordon—the giants of the faith—all sported beards. Actually, he wasn’t certain about Gordon, but the bushes on the other chins made up for any lack. The matter was decided. He would let comfort rule the day.

His left arm and shoulder still seeped. How long did Burriwi say it took to heal? Forever? And the little shark didn’t even taste all that good.

Someone knocked and he recognized the light touch. He really should cover up this mess before opening the door. If she saw his arm in this condition …

“One moment! I’m coming.” Cautiously, gingerly, he pulled on the baggiest shirt in his clothes press. It set fire to every square inch of torn hide that it touched. He buttoned his way across the parlor and stuffed in his shirttail just before he reached the latch. Satisfied in mind if not in body, he swung open the door.

What Luke saw as the door opened was the sort of vision that evoked poetry from the romanticists and made wandering Greeks forget their homeland. Her russet hair was drawn up and back in a pile of soft curls. The smooth and tender skin, the limpid gray-green eyes brought the lovely face to perfection.

“Ah, Meg. Do come in!”

She stood transfixed, staring not into his eyes but into the gouges on his face. “Oh, Luke … !” and he regretted a thousand times over his brief moment of foolhardiness.

“It looks much worse than it actually is. Come in.”

“However did it … ? And your arm. Look at your arm, with the blood coming through your shirt there. It must have happened just now, aye? Eh, Luke, me heart aches to see ye thus.”

He planted a hand on her elbow and forcibly ushered her across the threshold. “Waste no sympathy on me, beloved. I richly deserve whatever befalls me, for not thinking. Morning tea is ready. Have you broken fast yet?” He closed the door and planned for a moment to kiss her properly. Prudence, not modesty, prevented him. Were he to kiss her she would embrace him, squeezing his poor rib cage, and … A peck on the cheek sufficed; but then, she seemed preoccupied anyway.

He conducted her to the kitchen, popped open the biscuit tin and dug a plate out of the cupboard.

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