Page 77 of Hidden Fires

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“Rudy.” The plaintive cry came from the direction of his bedroom. “Please come to bed. I’m cold.”

Rudy stood and tossed his cigar into the fireplace. He stretched his long frame and gave an exaggerated yawn. “The babies are just barely three weeks old and already that woman can’t keep her hands off me.” He shrugged in feigned helplessness and sighed, “What’s a guy to do?” He winked at Jared and swaggered into the hall toward his waiting wife.

Jared chuckled as he turned his attention to the tray. Lauren had practically dropped it onto the low table in front of the easy chair by the fire. If he had noticed the loud, angry clatter of dishes, he didn’t show it. He took several bites of the scalding soup, ignoring her completely. Angered by his calculated indifference, she whirled around and headed toward the hallway.

“Lauren.”

It was hard for her to face him, but she forced herself to stifle her anger and pivoted toward him. “Yes?”

He studied her a moment as she stood framed against the darkness of the hall. She was poised for an attack, but her militant stance was belied by the vulnerability she conveyed in her white woolen robe and slippers. No warrior Jared had ever seen had hair that cascaded in a riot of thick waves and curls.

“How have you been?”

She folded her arms across her chest and laughed mirthlessly. “I don’t believe for one moment that you care about my well-being, but as was taught me, I’ll answer politely. I’ve been well, and you?”

He raised one eyebrow in quizzical surprise at her tone. “I’ve been fine. But please refrain from doing my thinking for me. I do care about… about you.”

“Then I can only surmise that all your messages and letters were diverted.” She loathed the sarcasm in her voice, but she was angry, had a right to be, and he deserved this. “I assume your business in Austin went well.”

He glanced back down at the tray quickly. “Some of it, yes,” he replied in clipped tones. His own anger wasn’t far from the surface.

“No doubt you’re pleased. I think I’ll go to bed now. We took the children out in the snow today, and I’m tired.”

“Yes, go on. I’ll clear this up when I’m finished.”

“I’m sure Gloria will appreciate that. Goodnight.”

He didn’t look at h

er as he mumbled a response. He seemed dejected, the hollows of his cheeks and the lines around his mouth and eyes emphasized by the shadows the firelight cast on his face. Lauren steeled herself against the temptation to go to him. Instead, she walked down the dark hall to the bedroom.

She had just warmed a spot under the covers where her body huddled when she heard the bedroom door open. Jared came in, closing the door behind him.

She sat up quickly, pulling the blankets up to her chin. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

He didn’t even look toward her as he sat down on the ottoman and began tugging off his boots. “If I recall correctly, this is my bedroom in my house. It is a very cold night out, and I have no inclination to seek another place to sleep. If it offends your sensibilities to sleep with me—and I stress sleep—then I suggest you find yourself another bed. This one belongs to me.”

He had pulled off his socks, shirt, and the top of his underwear, and was working on his belt buckle. The firelight picked up golden tints on the hair that furred his chest.

Lauren flounced back against the pillows and scooted to the far side of the bed, putting her back to him. She heard his pants drop to the floor followed by the soft swish of his underwear. No! He couldn’t sleep like that on such a cold night! He padded across the floor and tossed a few more logs onto the fire in the fireplace, then went to the trunk at the foot of the bed. He raised the lid, which squeaked slightly, and took something out. She dared not look. He flung whatever it was over the bed.

“Thorn made this for me. It’ll keep us warm as toast.”

She opened her eyes to slits and saw that it was some sort of fur blanket. She closed her eyes quickly when the cold air rushed in under the raised covers as the bed sagged with his weight.

“Goodnight, Lauren,” he said. She lay perfectly still and didn’t answer. He laughed and turned away from her, settling himself in the warm cocoon of the bed. It wasn’t too many minutes before she heard the even breathing of his sleep.

She didn’t sleep for a long while.

* * *

At some point during the night, they turned to each other. Whether it was for warmth or something Lauren didn’t want to name, she awoke to find herself lying against Jared’s chest, his heavy arm imprisoning her, their legs wrapped together.

She lay still, savoring the nearness of the body next to hers. The hairs tickled her nose as his chest rose and fell gently beneath her head. She could feel his breath on the top of her head. The dull thudding of his heart echoed in her ear.

Afraid to move for fear she would wake him, her eyes wandered as far as they could and delighted in their perusal. The fire in the grate had all but burned itself out, but one small log caught and flickered in the dark room, illuminating it briefly. Lauren saw Jared’s broad chest under her head, the hair fanning out at his throat and tapering to a slender, silken column on his stomach.

Hesitating only a moment, she lifted her hand and, placing it against him, began slowly tracing the pattern of hair on his muscular chest, down the corded, flat stomach, until she felt it grow thick and coarse on his abdomen. She rested her hand on the wiry mat, unable to bring herself to explore further. Only then did she notice that the breathing above her head was no longer steady and the heartbeat beneath her ear was more rapid. She raised her head quickly and met the amber eyes glowing in the fading firelight.


Tags: Sandra Brown Historical