Beverly Barton - The Outcast

"It's all right, Reece. I believe you. I understand."

"How the hell could you understand? I'd hated him all my life, prayed for his death, but when the moment came, I didn't want him to die. I tried... I tried___"

Elizabeth felt the tears inside Reece, choking him, constricting his breathing, squeezing his heart. But his eyes remained dry, his face set in tense agony. She reached into his mind, but he shut her out. He wouldn't allow her entrance, refusing to accept her mental comfort.

Elizabeth slipped her arms around his waist. He was rock solid, his body rigid with control. "You're right, I don't understand. But I could, if you would tell me about him. About B. K. Stanton."

Reece felt her strong, supportive arms around him. Elizabeth Mallory was as sturdy and solid as the rock-and-log cabin in which she lived, as hardy and vigorous as the mountain she called home. He'd grown up mothered by a weak woman. Reliability and responsibility hadn't been Blanche's strong points. She'd been a fragile, needy woman who hadn't been able to take care of herself, let alone a child.

In his mind's eye he could see Blanche. Small, frail, her gray eyes looking to him for help, the only color in her pale face were the bruises left by Harry Gunn's big fists. Even though he'd been a scrawny kid, she'd expected him to help her. And God knew he'd tried. But in the end he hadn't been able to help her. All he'd gotten for his efforts were bruises and broken bones of his own.

He'd had no one to depend on, no one to defend him, and he'd learned not to care, to never expect anything from anyone. He'd lived his whole life alone, shielding himself from emotions, priding himself on the fact that he needed no one.

Elizabeth's embrace seemed to surround more than just his body. He felt cocooned in safety. Without thinking about what he was doing, without second-guessing his mo­tives, without giving his doubts and uncertainties time to take control, Reece pulled Elizabeth into his arms, holding her against him, absorbing the power of her generous heart.

He'd been alone all his life, long before his mother had died. He had taught himself not to need anyone, not to depend on anyone. And here was this woman, this beautiful, unique woman offering him her comfort and her trust. Would he be a fool to accept what she offered, or would he be a fool to refuse?

Elizabeth tightened her hold around Reece, easing her hands up his back, stroking him, caressing his tight muscles. He lowered his hands from her waist to her hips, cupping her buttocks, dragging her into his arousal, telling her without words what she was doing to him.

She looked up at him with those trusting blue eyes, eyes that smiled at him, eyes that offered so much.

"You shouldn't look at a man like that. You're liable to give him ideas."

She opened her mouth on a sigh, her lips parting. Her face bloomed with color. Her fingers bit into his neck as she lifted her arms around his shoulders. "I want you to know that I care, that I can help you."

She could not, would not admit that she wanted him as a woman wants a man. The feeling was new to her, far too new for her to accept the desire and allow herself to act upon it. If making love with Reece was meant to be, and in her heart of hearts she believed that it was, then she and Reece would become lovers. But not now. Not yet. He wasn't offering anything except sex; she wanted nothing less than love. When he was prepared to make love to her, she would know. Her heart and her instincts would tell her.

Reece could not resist the temptation Elizabeth Mallory represented. She was comfort and safety and pleasure. He wanted all three. Lowering his head, he brushed his cheek against hers. She smelled like flowers-sweet, so very, very sweet.

"You smell good, sweet Lizzie. Like roses." He nuzzled her neck with his nose, breathing in that flower-garden scent.

"My perfume." She breathed deeply, succumbing to the heady intoxication of his touch. Turning her face upward, she offered him her lips. "I make my own perfume from roses."

Never having been a romantic man, Reece was stunned at his own thoughts. Her mouth looked like a rose, opening its pink petals just for him. And her eyes, half-closed now, were as deep and dark a blue as sparkling sapphires.

His lips touched hers, tentatively at first, and then as she responded, he took her mouth with total possession, savoring the feel of her body molded securely to his. She fit him; he fit her. Their bodies had been formed to entwine perfectly. Her full breasts pressed against his chest, her feminine softness centered on his male strength, her arms claiming him as surely as his did her, and their lips mating with the fierceness of lovers preparing to join in a more intimate fashion.

Reece ran his hand down her hip, lifting up her leg, pressing her to him. Elizabeth moaned into his mouth, clinging to him, squirming against him.

"If you want to help me, Lizzie, then be my woman. Now. For today." He kissed her again, taking both their breaths away.

She held on to him, but broke the kiss, laying her head on his chest. She heard and felt his wild heartbeat. "I can't have sex with you, Reece."

The instant tension in his body notified Elizabeth that he had understood only too well what she was telling him. He released her abruptly, turned and walked into the living room.

Elizabeth waited a few minutes, willing her raging senses to calm. It would have been so easy to give in to his needs and the needs of her own body. For the first time in her life she wanted to be with a man, to offer herself to him. But there was too much standing in the way, keeping them from the union of hearts and souls as well as of bodies.

She found him sitting on the sofa, bent over, his clasped hands resting between his knees. He didn't look up when she walked over and stood in front of him.

"Talk to me, Reece. Tell me about B. K. Stanton."

"You're damned and determined to hear the whole sordid story, aren't you?"

MacDatho, who'd been asleep in front of the fireplace, reared his head, focusing his amber gaze on Reece and Elizabeth. He stretched, then lowered his bead, keeping his eyes open.

Elizabeth knelt in front of Reece, taking his hands into hers. "My knowledge of your life is limited. I really can't read your mind, and I can't help you if I don't know what we're dealing with."

"I don't see how you can help me, anyway, but if you want to hear my version of Reece Landry's life story, then I'll tell you. Once you've heard the truth, you may not be so eager to help me, after all."

Lifting Reece's right hand, Elizabeth sat on the sofa beside him, entwining their fingers, giving his hand a tight squeeze. "I want to know whatever you want to tell me."

Leaning back on the sofa, Reece closed his eyes. He didn't want to rehash all this old misery, but his gut instincts prompted him to share his past with Elizabeth.

"My mother, Blanche, was a beautiful woman. Blond and china-doll pretty. She worked at Stanton Industries years ago. A minimum-wage job. Anyway, to make a long story short, she had an affair with B. K. Stanton himself, who was a married man with children. When my mother discovered she was pregnant, good old B.K. offered to pay for her abortion."

Elizabeth sensed his anger. She tightened her hold on his hand. "But she didn't get an abortion."

"No, she decided to have me. I don't know why. All of us would have been better off if she'd just gotten rid of me."

"Don't say that, Reece. It isn't true."

Opening his eyes, he glanced at her and saw the tears caught in her thick, dark lashes. Sucking in a deep breath, he pulled his hand out of her grasp. "My mother didn't have anyone to take care of me, so she had to quit work. Stanton gave her a little money so he could keep on sleeping with her. But when his wife found out about Blanche and me, she made a lot of threats. I was six years old. That was the last time my father came around. Then about a year later my mother married Harry Gunn."