He was literally shaking with fear. “Be quiet.”
“The horses. I need—” She broke off in a fit of coughing.
“Someone else will have to take care of the horses,” Stephen said.
“Got them out, but I don’t…know where they are. I should—”
“No. You shouldn’t.”
Another car flew into what already looked like an emergency parking lot. Nick flung open the driver’s side door and shot out. “Hannah!”
Stephen saw Nick’s stricken expression as he immediately started for the ambulance where they were strapping the still body of a woman to a stretcher. He knew what Nick felt because he was still feeling it. And wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.
“Nick!” Stephen yelled over the chaos.
Nick looked back in bewilderment and took a second to stop the race to what he thought was his sister before changing gears and direction.
“I’m okay.” She strained to speak when Nick reached them.
Nick stared another second, then his eyes met Stephen’s.
“She’s not hurt,” Stephen told him. “It’s Lexie.”
Nick’s face had gone from terror to relief and now a bit of guilt as he looked back toward the paramedics loading the body into the ambulance.
“Come on. You should get checked out.” Nick reached for his sister.
“I’ve got her,” Stephen told him.
An internal battle played out over Nick’s hard face as he looked at his sister. He squeezed the back of his neck, then he brought his eyes to Stephen’s and a kind of understanding passed between them. “I’ll make sure Lexie’s sisters are called. Talk to Zach.”
Hannah nodded and Stephen was walking.
—
Stephen carried Hannah through the house, his house. He’d wanted her safe and somehow, in his mind, that equated to getting her away from there. He needed to be in control, and that was here.
“I can walk,” she repeated for the third time.
“Forget it.” He stood her in his bathroom and stripped her blackened clothes, every thread reminding him where she’d been. What could have happened beating at him as he helped her shower off the worst of it.
“Is the water too hot?” Her skin was bright red in little places on her arms and face. Just seeing them made him sick. Proof she’d been inside that burning inferno.
“No. It feels good.”
When she was finished, he plucked her from his shower and wrapped her in an oversize towel. He patted the drops of water from her fragile skin, thankful for the first time that his housekeeper had gone for the feminine fluff.
He kissed her legs as he dried them, her back, her shoulders. He stood and saw her eyes welling with tears, her bottom lip trembling. “Come here.” He caught a tear with his finger, then kissed her damp cheek. Slender arms came tight around his waist. It was hitting her now. God knows it was hitting him.
“Sit down.” His throat was raw, his voice jagged. But it wouldn’t compare to hers. He filled a glass of water, pushed it into her hand.
Hannah sat where he directed on the side of the tub and caught a glimpse of herself in his mirror. “Oh my gosh.”
“Yes. I know.”
“No wonder you look so…”
Terrified? He left her side for two seconds to get the ointment from his first-aid box in the closet. “It won’t burn,” he said, opening the ointment. With trembling fingers, he dabbed soothing burn cream on a dozen little places where hot ashes had singed her skin. One at her temple, several across her cheeks and arms. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured you in my bathroom, naked and near that tub.”
A ghost of a smile crossed her lips as he’d wanted.
“I was thinking more along the lines of bubble bath.” He finished the last and kissed her forehead. “Another time.”
“You never brought me here before.”
“No.” He returned the ointment to the box. “I’ve never brought any woman here.” But he could have brought Hannah. Had no problem with her being here. So why hadn’t he?
Their eyes met in the mirror. There were questions there, but she didn’t ask and he didn’t answer. He couldn’t, not now. Not with his insides still twisted, unsure he would ever get over seeing that fire and her body lying in the grass beside it. He could have lost her.
Drops of water slipped from the ends of her hair down her arms and she shivered.
“Come on. Let’s get you dry and into bed.” When she was seated on the edge, he pulled a T-shirt over her head. He draped a blanket around her shoulders, and rubbed her hair dry with another towel until the ends were no longer dripping. “That’s enough.” He drew back the covers, ushered her to climb in. When he had the blanket pulled up and around them both, he gathered her against him. Wrapped her in his arms as close and tight as he could.
He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head tucked under his chin, thinking about what could have happened. And what he’d been doing, where he’d been.
If he’d been there, she never would have gotten within a hundred yards of that fire. The fear when he’d seen her on the ground had sucked the air from his lungs, knocked the breath right out of him. But he got a similar breathless feeling when he made love to her; when he watched her walk into a room; watched her eat, or ride, or work with the kids.
She shivered again and curled deeper into his chest. It didn’t escape him that he’d spent the majority of the past five years imagining what life would have been like if a certain woman hadn’t died. Now he lay here while a hard rain beat on the skylight above his bed, wondering how he would live if Hannah had.