Karlee moved to the door. She'd always felt the same way about herself. Now, she'd found a man who wanted to be married even if he didn't want her.
Crossing into the parlor, she curled up in the chair next to Daniel's bed. He was resting quietly, his bandages clean and free of blood. His sandy blond hair curtained the white blindfold over his left eye.
She blushed, remembering how she'd washed him so completely. Aunt Rosy would have one of her fainting spells if she knew how boldly Karlee had touched this man.
Laughing to herself, she leaned over him until her cheek rested lightly on his chest. The strong rhythm of his heartbeat seemed to welcome her again.
“Good night, husband,” she whispered as she stretched and kissed his lips. He might never be a full husband in every way to her, but she could pretend tonight. There were a house full of relatives who called her Daniel's wife and somehow it made her feel like she belonged.
Deep into the night, Karlee awoke to the sound of Daniel's moaning. He clawed at the blindfold with bandaged hands as he twisted in his sleep.
She slipped off her chair and knelt by his side, pulling his hands from his face.
“Daniel,” she whispered, “Daniel, don't pull the blind-fold off.”
He batted her away, but she returned, sitting on the edge of the bed as she held each arm just above his hands. “Please don't.”
He stopped fighting and leaned back, awake enough now to escape from the dream. He seemed to be forcing himself to take deep breaths.
“I'm tired of the darkness,” he finally said in a voice that told Karlee he was fully awake. “I can take the pain in my leg and the constant need to scratch my hands, but I can't stand the darkness. It's like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff with only blackness below. I know eventually I'll have to step off, but will I fall one foot or a hundred?”
Karlee didn't know what to say. It would be cruel to give him false hope and crueler still to give him no hope at all.
“I'll wait with you until the dawn,” she finally said. “No matter how long.”
Daniel sneered. “And what if it never comes?” He almost choked on the words.
“Then you're stuck with me.” She tried to laugh though tears rolled down her cheeks.
Daniel smiled. “Hell of a deal.”
Karlee patted his arm. “Preachers aren't suppose to swear.”
“And if I wasn't a preacher, Mrs. McLain, would you stay married to me?”
“I married the man, not the profession.” Could he really think that just because he was blind he could no longer be a minister?
He was silent for a long moment. “Would you mind rubbing some more salve on my hands?”
She began unwrapping his hand in answer. As she rubbed in the greasy medicine, his fingers moved with hers. When she spread the salve, he caressed her hand until she had as much on her as now covered his burns. If hands could dance, she thought, they were dancing.
“Is that better?” She wrapped his fingers with fresh bandages.
“It helps. The darkness doesn't seem so complete when I'm touching someone. In those first few days, I think your touch was the only thing that kept me sane. Even when I didn't say anything, the feel of your hands pulled me back to earth again and again.”
“I'm glad I could help.” Karlee wiped her fingers on a towel and moved back to her chair. He had a way about him, a way of making her feel needed without making himself seem helpless. “Maybe you can sleep now. Do you need anything else?”
He lifted his hand. “Come here.”
As she had when he asked her to marry him, Karlee put her hand in his and allowed him to pull her close.
When her legs bumped the edge of the bed, he tugged again.
She crawled onto the bed, not knowing what he wanted.
“Lie down next to me,” he whispered. “I don't want to be alone.”
Very carefully, she stretched out at his side, leaving only an inch between them.
He opened his arm, and she used his chest as a pillow.
“Are you cold?” He placed his hand at the back of her waist and pulled her against him. She was surprised how easily she fit next to his side, almost as if they were a match.
“No,” she managed to say while she tried to breathe. They were doing nothing improper. Nothing wrong. Yet the room seemed to have grown summer warm.
“Do you mind keeping me company, Mrs. McLain? I don't want to be alone tonight.”
“No.” She swallowed hard. “I don't mind.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
With her tucked securely against his side, Daniel drifted into a peaceful sleep.
Karlee had never been more awake in her life. Each time she breathed, the smell of him filled her lungs. His heart pounded in her ear like a drum. His hand moved slowly from her back to the fullness of her hip where it rested peacefully.
She told herself he was asleep, that he didn't know, or feel anything with the bandages and her layers of clothes. After all, he was a preacher.
She twisted until she pulled his hand back to her waist.
After a few minutes, he slid his fingers back to the fullness of her hip.
He can't feel anything, she reminded herself.
But an hour later, when she was finally almost asleep she could have sworn he patted her bottom lightly and spread his fingers over the curve of her hip.
Tomorrow, wild savage, company and all, she'd have a few words about what the preacher wasn't feeling between the clothes and bandages.
FIFTEEN
DANIEL AWOKE SLOWLY, ONE PAIN AT A TIME. THE cool of the night had passed. He heard the first sounds of stirring in the kitchen. It was morning. He'd always liked the smell of a fire starting and coffee flavoring the air at daybreak. But today, his body ached. His head pounded and it tasted like something had died inside his mouth.
Karlee was no longer at his side, if she ever had been. He remembered a dream of her lying next to him, all soft and warm. Her head, resting atop his heart, had been more real than dream in the quiet of night. She'd pressed her ample breasts against the side of his chest as though she had no idea how much the feel of her made his whole body aware. In the dream, he'd felt the firmness of her hip in his hand and she hadn't protested.
In his dream, Daniel reminded himself. It could be nothing more. He wasn't attracted to Karlee. Not a woman like her. Not any woman. He'd seen her type. She was destined to be an old maid, taking care of others all her life. There was something about her that would make any man run in the opposite direction. A craziness, an impulsiveness, a freedom. His grandfather would have said she was a person not comfortable in her own skin.
A man might never know what she would do next. That's not the kind of woman who made a good wife. Not the kind who would be a trusted friend… a partner… a lover.
No, he told himself. He shouldn't even be dreaming about a woman like Karlee. Or thinking about her in the way he was.
She was the type of woman who shipped herself in a trunk, or flattened a huge stranger with a frying pan… or married a blind man.
“Morning.” Karlee's voice came from a few feet away.
Daniel frowned. He should have heard her approaching. The dream had crossed into reality. “Morning,” he grumbled. “Is the coffee ready yet?” He was in no mood to wake up, much less face anyone.
“I brought you a cup.” Her words grew nearer as she spoke.
He reached out, but she was closer than he guessed. His bandaged hand swung against the hot cup. She squealed as coffee splashed over her hand and onto the sheets.
“Oh, I'm sorry!” She backed away. “I filled it so full. I was watching the coffee and didn't see you reach up.”
He heard the clank of the cup on the bedside table a moment before she returned to his side. She wiped up the spill and patted the sheet that covered him.
“I've made such a mess.” She continued rubbing the stains, totally unaware his body lay beneath the depth of cotton.