3

One dark eyebrow lifted. “You make a habit of inviting strangers into your home, do you?”

“Actually, no,” she said, forcing a brave smile she didn’t quite feel. “But I can see that you need my help, and I can't let you leave in your condition. I do have one more empty bedroom, if you need it.”

He scowled at her. “I’m fine here.”

“In the barn.”

“Yes.”

Odd. But then what about this morning hadn’t been odd? “But you’re injured.”

“I’ll heal.”

She didn’t know whether to be pleased or not with the fact that he clearly didn’t want to come into her house. There was something about him that felt…dangerous. And Lord knew, she’d had more than her share of danger already in her life. But she also saw something else in his eyes. An old pain that she responded to. How could she not recognize suffering in someone else? How could she not do everything she could to help?

“You can’t stay in the barn,” she said, deciding on the spot to insist on taking care of the man. She’d once needed help desperately and she was going to pass on that favor now. “You’ll freeze out here.”

“I won’t be staying.” He crossed his feet at the ankles and absently rubbed at the back of his right hand, then blew out a breath. “I appreciate your help but I don’t need further assistance.”

“At least you could tell me your name,” she said.

He was quiet for a long moment, then said, “Aleron Dravenhart.”

Aleron Dravenhart? What an ancient sounding name, she thought. “I’m Seraphine. Seraphine Clarke.” She held her hand out toward him and waited patiently for him to take it.

When he finally did, and his skin met hers, Seraphine felt a jolt of something she couldn’t identify pass between them. He felt it, too. She saw the flash of surprise in his eyes before he had the chance to disguise it. And somehow, it made her feel better to know that he was no happier about that flash than she was. 

Moving farther back from her, he said, "I'll rest here, then move on tonight.”

“Maybe that would be best after all,” she whispered, still feeling the hum of her skin where he’d touched her. Her body was awakening to sensations she’d blocked for five years. And the raw ache within threatened to bring her to her knees. She stood up and backed away, as if distance from this mysterious man could make everything she’d felt drain away. It didn’t help.

Shaken, she paused at the doorway, stood in the spear of sunlight and looked at him over her shoulder. Even in the shadows, the fire in his eyes burned hot. She felt the heat of him reaching for her and Seraphine knew that Aleron Dravenhart was more dangerous than she’d first believed. 

Five years ago, she’d vowed to never give a man power over her again. Up until this moment, she’d never doubted her ability to honor that vow.

___________

Seraphine poured coffee into a thermos, gathered up a blanket and her first-aid kit, then carried it all back to the barn. 

“What are you thinking, Seraphine?”

Muttering to herself didn’t really help, but it had become a habit during the last few years. Before coming to Ravenwell, Ashbourne, she hadn’t dared to make friends. Hadn’t even stayed in one spot for longer than two weeks at a stretch. She’d kept moving. Always wary. Always scared, damn it. Until she’d finally awakened one morning to decide that she was done looking at life through her rearview mirror. So she’d found this place, worked like a dog to fix it up and now she was running her own small business. True, it wasn’t much of a business yet, but that would change. All she needed was time.

Her stomach jittered uneasily and Seraphine paused long enough to slap one hand to it in a futile attempt to calm herself. “Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is,” she said quietly, glancing at the barn just steps away. “He’s hurt. You’re going to help. Then he’ll leave. End of story. Everything will be back to normal.”

Except, just what was normal? She had a scented candle business that was still picking up. She lived on the outskirts of a town where she was still pretty much a stranger. She was more alone than ever. And she hadn’t had sex in five years. Normal?

By whose standards?

“Sex? Who’s talking about sex?” Taking a breath, she picked up the first-aid kit again and said, “You are, Seraphine. And you should just cut it out now, got it?”

But who could blame her? The man in her barn, even injured, oozed sex from every pore. One look into those dark eyes and any woman with a pulse would want to throw herself at him. Seraphine was no different—despite having plenty of reasons to know better. Completely disgusted with herself now, she headed for the barn before she could find an excuse not to.

The sun was up and slanting across the yard, glinting on the snow brightly enough to make her squint just to keep her eyes clear. Another storm was due, and judging by the thick clouds surrounding that clear spot where the sun clung stubbornly to the sky, it was going to be a big one.

The air was icy and every breath felt as though she were sucking knives into her lungs. The naked branches of the trees surrounding the house were draped in ice that looked like diamonds, dazzling in the sunlight. From a distance, the sound of a fastmoving creek came to her and Seraphine paused again, just to enjoy the place she’d finally decided to call home.

Five long years of belonging nowhere, of owning nothing. Five years of using false names and never trusting a soul. Then one day, Seraphine had driven down this lonely stretch of road, spotted this house and recognized home.

She hadn’t expected it. Hadn’t really been looking for it. But this spot, this place, had called to her. As if it had been standing vacant, just waiting for her to come home and bring it to life again.