A Family for Tory and A Mother for Cindy: A Family for Tory / A Mother for Cindy. Margaret Daley

wasn’t sure how to share one bathroom, the same living quarters, even the kitchen first thing in the morning.

      “It has been a long day,” she finally said, his silence indicating he expected her to say something. She unfolded her legs and swung them to the floor. Standing, she rolled her shoulders and worked out the kinks.

      When he rose, too, the small porch suddenly became smaller. She could definitely smell his aftershave as the scent surrounded her. The distance between them was less than an arm’s length. If she wanted, she could reach out and touch him easily. In the dim light from inside the house she could see his handsome features, marked with uncertainty and tenderness.

      He quirked a smile. “I realize this is a bit awkward.”

      “A little.” When his smile grew, she said, “Okay, a lot.”

      He shifted closer, linking his hand with hers. “We’ll make this work.”

      “For Mindy.”

      “For us, Tory.”

      His voice, pitched low, flowed over her. She shivered in the warm, June night. His hand slid up her arm, sending a cascade of chills down it. He moved even closer until there was only a breath between them. Cupping her face with his other hand, he stared into her eyes as though trying to read what was in her soul.

      Exhausted from the long day and the emotional treadmill she’d been on, Tory melted against him, her legs giving out. He tilted her chin up, pausing for a few seconds before bringing his mouth down on hers. The mating of their lips wasn’t like the quick peck at the end of the wedding ceremony; it was a blending of breaths and parrying of tongues. Weak with sensations foreign to her, Tory welcomed the taste of him—until he wound his arms about her, pressing her closer.

      Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Panic eroded her composure, prodding her heart to crash against her rib cage. She shoved him away, gasping for air. His startled expression rendered her speechless. She pushed past him, taking the steps two at a time.

      The pounding of her bare feet on the cool grass matched the pounding of her pulse. She saw the one light on in the barn and headed for it. Inside she stopped, bending over and drawing gulps of air into her burning lungs.

      How in the world had she thought she was ready for this?

      What must Slade think? Her husband had kissed her and she had fallen apart. She wrapped her arms around herself and walked toward the back of the barn. Opening the door, she stood staring at the pasture beyond, the moonlight streaming down in a crystal clear sky. The scent of hay and horses saturated the air, a familiar scent that usually comforted her. Except that her heart beat rapidly and she couldn’t get a decent breath.

      “Tory, what just happened back there?”

      Chapter Seven

      She tensed, her back to Slade.

      “Tory?”

      She bit the inside of her mouth, wishing she had an easy answer to his question. Staring at the ribbon of moonlight pooling in the meadow, she whispered, “I’m not ready to take our relationship to the next level.”

      “Is that what you thought that kiss was? The beginning of a seduction?”

      She shrugged, nothing casual about the gesture. “It is our wedding night. I thought—”

      “We’re friends. I wouldn’t rush you like that.”

      He was only a few feet behind her now. She sensed his puzzled gaze drilling into her back, trying to discern what had panicked her. This would be a perfect time to tell him as her sister had encouraged her. Then she remembered some of the whispers said behind her back—Maybe she had asked for it. Maybe she’d led him on. They had been dating. She knew in her heart she hadn’t asked to be raped, but the shame of the act clung to her as though it were a second skin. Could she have done something differently to prevent it? Why couldn’t she have seen it coming? She had dated the man for several weeks, known him much longer, or so she’d thought.

      “Tory, we talked about our marriage one day—being real in every sense. Have you changed your mind?”

      Yes. No! How could she answer him when she was so torn up inside? She didn’t know what she wanted. What a mess!

      “Have you, Tory?”

      She wheeled around and faced him, praying her expression was neutral, that none of the anguish twisting her stomach was visible. She never wanted to hurt this special man, but she was afraid she would. “No—one day.” She looked toward Mirabelle’s stall, then back into his eyes. “Please be patient. We haven’t known each other long. Give me time.”

      One corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. “I had intended to do that very thing. A kiss isn’t making love, Tory.”

      She sucked in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before releasing it. “I know. It’s just that I haven’t dated much. I’ve been so busy and…” She let her words trail off into the silence, hoping he drew the conclusion she’d led a sheltered life, which was true for the past four years, and even before that.

      “I understand.”

      You do? She almost said the words out loud but stopped herself before she revealed her doubts. Instead she said, “I think these past few weeks are finally catching up with me. I’m overreacting. I’m sorry, Slade.”

      “You have nothing to be sorry for. It will take a while for us to adjust to living under the same roof. And I agree. It has been a long few weeks. I think I’m gonna turn in now.”

      “I’ll be up to the house soon.”

      She watched him stride toward the entrance, his bearing suggesting the same weariness she felt. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, there had been a hurt expression in his eyes she’d glimpsed for a brief moment before he had managed to mask it. He didn’t really understand. How could he when there were times she didn’t?

      She spun about to stare out the back door, looking toward the heavens. Dear God, I hurt Slade tonight. Please help me to make this marriage work. I’m in over my head. I don’t want to fail.