Across the River of Yesterday Read Online Free Page A

“Just thank you. For everything.”
    “For nothing.” His grin lit up his rough features with warmth. “All I did was cook you an omelet and lend you my shirt.” He touched the tip of her nose with his index finger. “Go to sleep now and remember my very wise Hopi friends.” He leaned forward and brushed her forehead with his lips as if she were a small child,
his
child. “Sleep tight.”
    “You too.”
    “I always sleep well.” He rose and looked downat her. “You just have to remember to watch out for those ambushes.”
    “You have them, too?”
    “We all have them.” He smiled again. “You’re not alone, Serena.” His gaze suddenly fell on the glass on the nightstand. “You forgot to drink your orange juice, so I emptied it out and brought you some fresh. Just what you need for a nightcap.” He sat down again, picked up the glass and gathered her up into the curve of his arm. “Bottoms up.”
    “No, I don’t—”
    “Shh.” His voice was velvet soft and coaxing. “You need it.” He smiled that smile that enfolded her in sunlight and caring. “Come on, there’s just a little in the glass and I want to feel I’ve done my duty to appease the gods of nutrition. I didn’t have any milk to give you. You wouldn’t want to make me feel bad, would you?”
    Who would ever want Gideon Brandt to know sadness or discomfort? He was everything that was caring and loving, and so dear she could feel her throat tighten with emotion as she looked up at him. What difference did it make if she didn’t want the orange juice? It wouldn’t hurt her. She opened her lips and finished off the juice in a few swallows. As he took the glass away, she wrinkled her nose at him. “Satisfied?”
    He nodded as he set the empty glass on the nightstand and laid her back against the pillows. “For now. You’ve been a very sensible girl.” He stood up and flicked off the lamp. She could see his shadow move across the room to the door.“Now watch out for those bushwhackers and get to sleep.” He paused at the door. She couldn’t see his face but she didn’t need to see it. It was all there in his quiet voice. “I’m here for you, Serena. Always.”
    A moment later, he was gone, leaving the door ajar.
    He heard the swift patter of her feet on the tiles and knew she was coming to him.
    He had been lying awake, thinking and listening to the thunder and the rain beating against the tile roof. He had always liked rain. There had been precious little of it in the desert country where he had grown up and, when it did come, it was like a blessing on the parched land.
    “Gideon?” Serena’s voice was shaky and uncertain. She was standing in the doorway.
    “I’m awake. Bushwhackers?”
    “I did what you told me and went to sleep, but the thunder woke me and—”
    “Ambush,” he finished for her. He sat up in bed. “Bad luck. I hoped you’d get a good night’s sleep. Come here.”
    She hesitated. “I don’t want to bother you. I only thought …” She stopped. “I don’t know what I thought.”
    “You thought you’d come see your friend and together we’d blow those bushwhackers to kingdom come.” He chuckled. “Now come over here and we’ll get down to it.”
    She came slowly to him. “Shall I turn on the light?”
    “Not unless you want to. Sometimes darkness is better. You might toss me that robe on the chair. I’m naked as a jaybird and I don’t want to shock your convent sensibilities.” He stood up and shrugged into the white terry cloth robe she handed him. “There. Now come to bed and snuggle.” He drew back the sheet, pushed Serena down on the bed and then lay beside her, pulling her into his arms. She smelled clean and sweet and felt wonderfully right in his arms. As he tightened his clasp about her he realized she was trembling. He had thought she would be when he had heard her voice. She wouldn’t have come to him if the pain of suppressing those memories hadn’t been impossible to