Guarding Raine Part 36

Inspection Service. Sending threats through the mail is a federaloffense, and the U.S. Postal Service has their own investigators. Itwill give them one more avenue to follow, at any rate."

"When you talked to the detective, did he say if they'd found anything on the guy who ran me off the road?"

He shook his head slowly."No one saw anything. They're checking up on stolen and abandoned carreports and checking out rental agencies. Something may turn up."

Raine turned and walked across the room to the window.

Suddenly the pace at which the investigation was proceeding was overwhelmingly frustrating.

She didn't want to spend one more hour, one more minute with these

threats hanging over her head.

The only mason she'd remained sane so far was the amount of time and energy her painting was requiring.

And the presence of Ma-cauley, of course.

He made her feel protected, she realized suddenly, in a way no one

before him had ever been able to accomplish.

She'd carefully chosen men in her life who were no threat to her physically or emotionally.

Until Macauley O'Neill had rocketed into her life and shattered so many

of her personal reservations.

He watched t~er stand, pensive and alone at the window, and d.a.m.ned the helplessness that filled him.

"I shouldn't have told you about the letter," ~ he muttered, full of

self-castigation. That got her attention. She whirled, eyesflas.h.i.+ng.

"Yes, you should have.

You're here to protect me, but not to hide things from me.

I can face what's happening in my life, thank you very much.

You're not responsible for my mood.

I choose to know every aspect of what's going on in my life, and I'mfree to react to it!

Don't treat me as if I might shatter if you speak too loudly or say thewrong thing.

The only thing I can't tolerate is being treated like an invalid.

Admiring the way temper lit her jeweled golden eyes, he inclined hishead. " An invalid is the !

ast word I'd use to describe you," he said soberly. The bruise from her accident had already turned its rainbow shades of color and now wasa faded yellow. She'd never complained about it, or the goose eggshe'd sported for a few days. She might be small, but she had theinner strength of any ten men he knew. A little temper was far lessthan he'd expect to have to put up with in this situation. She was edgy, and he couldn't blame her. Who wouldn't be edgy with somelunatic after them? Responsibility was a word she used a lot, butneither of them could deny that he bore partial responsibility for heranxiety level. If he'd never touched her, she'd d.a.m.n well be betteroff now. And so would he. If he'd never touched her he wouldn't be filled with regrets for the way he'd compromised them both, takingadvantage of her vulnerability and jeopardizing his objectivity. He wouldn't be kept awake at night kicking himself for giving in that onetime, for s.n.a.t.c.hing a chance to be held in' the arms of this warm,caring woman.

And he wouldn't be calling himself every kind of fool for not takingthe time to go slowly with her while he'd had the chance. It seemed a shame that he hadn't spent more time exploring her small, silky body,.finding all the places that begged for a man's kiss. If he was goingto make such a mistake anyway, why hadn't he turned on a light, so hismemory could have gorged itself on her gentle curves? Now he knew what her delicate b.r.e.a.s.t.s tasted like, how they fit his palm, but he didn'thave a complete picture in his mind. Were the nipples pink? He'd had the points in his mouth but didn't know if the firm mounds were acreamy white or tanned to a golden glow. Did she have tan lines that he could have traced with his tongue, or was the rest of her skin thesame hue as her arms, the color of antique lace? He'd never have the opportunity for those answers now, and he d.a.m.ned himself for stillwondering. But most of all, he d.a.m.ned himself for ever having touchedher to begin with. " I'm going outside," she muttered, and movedtoward the door.

" Wait.

I was meaning to ask you about those paintings in the back bedroom.

" She froze in place. " The men had to move them from that closet in there when we were working.

I can put them back now, but I thought I'd ask you for sure.

I didn't know if you planned to include any of them in your show ornot.

" Still she hadn't turned or spoken, and he frowned at the back of herhead.

" If they're pieces for the show, maybe you'd like them broughtdownstairs.

" " No.

" Her answer was flat and sharp, and seemed to propel her into action.She headed for the door. " I'll put them back myself.

" " You don't have to .

Dammit, Raine, wait!

" he commanded. Swiftly he followed her into the hall and up thestairs. " I'll put them back, I just wanted to make sure where youwanted them.

" She acted as if she hadn't heard him as she walked swiftly throughthe upstairs hallway, flipped on the switch and disappeared into thebedroom. He lengthened his stride, but even so, by the time he reachedher, she already had her arms around one large canvas and wasattempting to lug it across the room. " Dammit, put that down," heordered. " You don't have to do that.

" " I can handle it, and I don't want you in my things," she snapped.He watched her stiff back frustratedly as she carried her awkward loadtoward the closet. Swearing under his breath, he walked to the stackof canvases and began to pick up the top one, intent on at leasthelping her if she refused to let him do the work for her. But his hand froze as he reached for it, and for an instant his mind froze, too. Then he picked up the canvas and carried it, not to the closet,where Raine was still struggling to place the painting she held, butover to where he could stand directly under the light.

This painting wasn't like any of the others he'd seen of Raine's. It wasn't only the technique that was different, it was the emotionexpressed on canvas. Rage. It was depicted in the picture, pure andunadulterated. He didn't know how an abstract work could show so clearly the emotion of the artist. But it was there, in every brushstroke, in each slash of color used. He carried it to the stack and started to flip through the rest of the canvases. Grunting withexertion, Raine finally managed to shove the huge canvas into thecloset without harming it or a back muscle. Straightening, she turnedand saw Mac. He was on his knees with one of the smaller pictures inboth hands, holding it up and studying it. She strode over and s.n.a.t.c.hed it from him. Not wanting to meet that silent gaze, sheswif[ly put it in the closet with the first one. Once that task was accomplished, she found she had a very difficult time turning to facehim again.

When she finally looked at him, Mac was~' studying each of thepaintings in turn.

She couldn't tell from his impa.s.sive features what, if anything, he wasthinking. But she was afraid she could guess. As good as he was at a poker face, she knew he saw things that others would much rather keephidden. And as soon as those ice blue eyes met hers, she was certainshe was correct.

Awareness was in them, and understanding. But still his words, when hespoke, jarred her. " When did you do these?

" She took a deep breath. " A lifetime ago.

" Finally sure that her legs would work, she crossed to him, reachingfor the top canvas. He grasped her wrist, stopping her. " What happened to you, Raine?

" His voice was hoa.r.s.e from suppressed emotion. " What in G.o.d's name happened to evoke this much anguish on canvas?

" Because something earthshaking had, that was apparent. Even his untutored eye could detect the pain and trauma reflected in eachpainting, which she'd kept hidden away, out of sight. She pulled herwrist from his hold. " Life happened," she snapped. " It happens toall of us, doesn't it?

These paintings were my reactions to it at the time, that's all.

" He rose slowly to face her. " Tell me.

" It was less a command than an invitation. She started to shake her head, then bit her lip. Didn't he have some right to know, after all?He'd been the one to chase away the nightmare the lastltime she'd beenawakened by it.

He'd been the one to comfort her. But truth was painful, and realitysometimes more so. Even the most well-meaning person would be repulsedat her sordid little tale. She looked at him uncertainly. He was watching her, silently, not pus.h.i.+ng. Just there. And she knew with sudden certainty that what she'd had to overcome in her past was a merewhisper to what he'd seen.

What he'd done. Nothing she could say would shock him, and he'dalready pushed her away physically. She had nothing to lose by tellinghim. " As you can imagine, having met my father, I led a prettySheltered childhood.

" Her voice was thin when she sp0kc. " He taught my brothers to lookafter their little sister.

I was to be pampered, and protected from all unpleasantness.

I was spoiled beyond measure, and totally confined.

My comings and goings were regimented and I never went anywhereunescorted.

" The smile she tried for failed. " That was pretty restrictive for ateenager who thought she was an adult.

"But I was inventive. The library was one place I could go withoutrestriction, so many times I'd arrange to have one of my brothers takeme there, pretend to 'go inside, then duck downtown with one of myfriends. It got to be kind of a game, " and if my brothers eversuspected, they never told. They didn't like having to watch me allthe time, anyway. I think I cramped their style. " She looked at Macauley uncertainly.

He was watching her closely, his face absorbed.

Her gaze dropped.

"There was this guy at school I had a crush on, and one night wearranged to meet. We walked around the mall a while and then he took me back to the library."

Funny how she could remember the boy so clearly.

Bill Sanders had been a major heartthrob among her friends, and whenhe'd begun to pay attention to her, she'd thought that every teenageG.o.d in the heavens was smiling down on her.

"We were gone longer that[~ I'd expected. It was almost dark when we got back. The boy offered me a ride home, but I told him I had to waitfor my brother. I knew I'd never be able to explain arriving at myhouse in a boy's ear. I wasn't even going to be allowed to date foranother year."

Her voice trailed off for a moment.

"I waited. It grew dark, and then darker. It was almost ten o'clock and I became convinced that I'd missed John somehow when he'd come to pick me up.

I decided I'd walk home and make lip a good story along the way forbeing late. It was one of those utterly black nights, you know? Cloudscovered the moon, and if there were any stars out, they were hidden,too. It wasn't:so bad near the library, but the way to my place wentpast a park, and there weren't many streetlights, There were lots oftrees and hedges, creating all kinds of creepy shadows. I heard something behind me once, but when I turned and looked there was no onethere. So I just kept walking, faster and faster, wis.h.i.+ng with all myheart that I'd stayed at the library and called home."

She rubbed-her forehead, where a headache had suddenly appeared.

Even after all these years it was difficult to tell the~ story.

Difficult to think about.

"The man came out of nowhere."

Her voice tapered to almost a whisper.

"He jumped out and grabbed me from behind, and tried to drag me intothe bushes. I fought him as hard as I could, and I got away once, buthe caught me again. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me back, andthat time" -she took a deep breath "--I couldn't get away."

"Did he rape you?"

His harsh tone was almost a snarl.

Her eyes met his wearily, and he saw in them the same tired, ancient look he'd been surprised to see in them several times before.

Only now he knew the cause, knew it without her answer.

And that knowledge sent currents of rage firing along his veins.

"Yes."

Chapter C.

e'd been half-prepared for Raine's answer, Mac was still jolted by it.

"His big hands clenched and unclenched on his knees.

A red mist swam before his eyes, and he knew if it had been within his