If You Believe by Kristin Hannah

Author:Kristin Hannah [Hannah, Kristin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 1993-06-11T06:38:54+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Holy shit, she was serious.

Mad Dog sat up, yanking the towel tighter against his hips.

She was standing in the open doorway, as stiff as a blade, her hands balled at her waist. Fear had pulled the color from her skin and tightened her full lips into a thin, quivering line. With the moonlight drizzling through the doorway and bathing her in elysian light, she looked young and frightened and impossibly vulnerable.

Vulnerable. '

He bit off a curse. Christ, she was such an innocent, standing there, quietly asking for something she couldn't possibly understand. He could give it to her— longed to give it to her—but she wouldn't be able to live with the consequences. And, surprisingly, he wasn't sure that he could, either. He liked Mariah, genuinely, honestly liked her. He didn't want to hurt her. She wasn't the kind of woman for him. She didn't deserve to be dallied with and then deserted. She deserved better than he could give her.

That shocked the shit out of him. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. For the first time in his life, he was going to be a goddamn hero. He couldn't believe it.

He tightened the towel around his waist and eased carefully from the bed, walking slowly toward her.

She didn't back away, just stood there, as still as stone, haloed by ivory moonlight, her huge eyes focused on his face. A tiny pulse beat frantically at the base of her throat.

"Go home, Mariah."

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then opened them slowly. "Don't make this any harder on me. Please."

The soft plea coiled around his heart and squeezed until it hurt to breathe. "You don't know what you're asking. . .."

She looked up at him suddenly, met his gaze. "I'm no ... virgin."

He was so surprised, both by her words and her attitude, that it took him a second to answer. "You're not?"

"No," she said with a hint of something in her voice—perhaps pride, maybe pain.

"So you won't be 'ruining' me. That job's been adequately handled by someone else.

And—" she hesitated a heartbeat, then went on steadily "—I can't have children, so you've no problem on that account."

He heard the pain in her voice, and knew what that confession had cost her. It moved him immeasurably, her gutsy attempt at courage. He knew how easy, how safe, it was to be casual about the important things. It was a defense he'd used a hundred times in his life. Hit 'em before they hit you.

Obviously Mariah was a woman who'd wanted children, desperately. He remembered the baby blanket, and suddenly it all made sense. She'd embroidered it long ago, waiting, hoping.

Sadness tightened his chest. Once again he felt that strange, inexplicable need to comfort her. He brushed a strand of hair from her lip. "I'm sorry . .. about the children. But doctors cap be wrong. . .. They're wrong all the time. ..."

"I don't want your pity." She smiled, but it was a strained, hurting expression.

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