"It's not important."
"It is to me."
"I'm just concerned about Daddy, that's all. And now that I know someone will watch the house, I feel much better."
But Ben wasn't placated, and he continued to scowl, even as she decorated his face with invisible kisses.
"That's not helping, Adeline."
Addie stopped and looked at him, aware that her attempt at playfulness had fallen flat. She was still afraid and they both knew it. Time was drawing nearer, bringing with it an unavoidable sense of doom. She was frightened for Russell, and for Ben. He'd been blamed for Russell's murder before: he'd fled Sunrise and wandered for fifty years. She'd seen him, a pathetic old man without a home. The opposite of everything he was now. The image was dim, but still it lingered in the back of her mind, haunting her.
"Hold me," she finally said, feeling wretchedly guilty, and his arms drew around her. His voice was rough and caressing at the same time.
"Little fool. Do you think I'm going to let anything happen to you? Keep your secrets for now. But this is the last time I'll stand by and wring my hands over another of your little mysteries. There's going to come a time when I start asking questions, Addie, and I'll expect some answers. And God help you then if you try to sweet-talk me out of it. Understand?" Ben waited until he felt her nod against his chest. Then he pressed his lips against her hair. "Don't be afraid. Everything's going to be fine. You know I'll take care of you."
As she clung to him, the dread and guilt disappeared. Warmth stole through her with a penetrating glow. She luxuriated in the protection of his body, melting with pleasure as his hands moved over her back. As long as she was in his arms, he could keep her safe from anything. If only he would hold her forever. She longed to tell him what she was truly afraid of, but there was no way she could, unless it was indirectly.
"Ben? If you cared about a person and then found out he'd done some bad things in the past, would it change your feelings about him?"
"It depends," Ben said thoughtfully. His hands stopped in mid-motion, then resumed their stroking. "I suppose it would depend on what he did. If it was bad enough… yes, it would change how I felt about him."
"But what if he'd changed and was truly sorry about what he'd done?"
"I'm not one to judge. You're talking to a former mavericker, remember?"
"Is mavericking the worst thing you've ever done?" Ben smiled slightly. "Oh, I'll admit to worse if I have to. Anyone who knew me before I came to Texas would tell you I had a misspent youth."
"Are you sorry now for the things you did back then?"
"I rarely bother thinking about the past. And no, I don't waste time regretting things. I've paid for my worst mistakes two or three times over." He noticed the hollow at the base of her throat, revealed by the parted edged of her robe, and ducked his head to nibble at the delicate spot.
"Why the sudden interest in sin and atonement?" he asked, his voice muffled. "Remembering some schoolroom prank you never got caught for? You hid the teacher's chalk, I'll bet. Or whispered with your friends in the middle of geography-"
"Never," she said, relieved at the change of subject. She let her head fall to his shoulder, enjoying the plundering of his mouth. "I was always well behaved."
Deftly he unfastened the tiny buttons at the throat of her nightgown, one by one, moving down to her breasts. "I've heard differently, Adeline."
"Don't believe a word of it. And besides, you were probably no angel either."
Ben grinned. "I was always getting suspended."
"Troublemaker."
"Mmn-hmn. Once I hid a snake in Mary Ashburn's desk." He chuckled lazily. "She pulled it out when she reached for her pencil "
"How mean!"
"Just-a little garden snake. Hardly worth all that screaming. "
"Why did you do it?"
"Because I liked her."
"Your courting has improved."
"Practice," he said, his hand slipping underneath the folds of her nightgown, and she grabbed at it to stop his explorations.
"With many women?"
"Not as many as you seem to suspect. Haven't we talked about this before?"
"You said you'd tell me sometime about why you're so liberal in your ideas about women. About the one that had such an effect on you-"
"What makes you so sure it was one woman?"
"Intuition. Was it someone you were in love with?"
"In a way."
"Did you think about marrying her?"
Ben's face changed, and he looked uncomfortable, wary, perhaps a little bitter. "Addie, I'm not ready to talk about it."
"She hurt you, didn't she?"
Despite his irritation, Ben laughed ruefully at her persistence. And her accuracy. "Why is it so important?"
"I know hardly anything about your past. There's so much about you I don't understand, and it bothers me that you know so much more about me than I do about you. You're a puzzle. Why are you the way you are, and why-"
"Whoa. Before I explain anything. I'd like to point out I sure as hell don't understand everything about you. "
"Was she important to you?" Addie asked, ignoring his attempt to sidetrack her.
"At the time, I thought she was everything." Ben rested his head on the back of the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. "Have you ever wanted something so much you would have gone to hell and back to get it? And once you had it, the tighter you tried to hold on, the less of a grip you had? She was like that. I'd never met anyone so elusive. The more distant she was, the more I wanted her. "
Addie was surprised to feel a stab of jealousy. Suddenly she wasn't certain she wanted to hear about his desire for another woman, but at the same time she burned to know about the mysterious past he talked so little about.
"Who was she?"
"The daughter of one of my professors at Harvard. Her father was one of the most brilliant men I'd ever met. Very New England-aloof, intelligent, dynamic. Sometimes when he spoke, his words just burned through your mind-God, the things he said were radical. Startling. There was a lot of that in his daughter, the same brilliance, the same intelligence. I'd never heard a woman talk like she did. He'd let her study the same things his students did, let her say and do anything she wanted. She was smarter than most of the men I knew-a woman with an education. Having been raised in a small town near Chicago where they'd barely heard of such a thing, I was fascinated."
"Was she beautiful?"
"Very."
Addie's jealousy doubled. Beautiful, intelligent, fascinating. "She sounds perfect," she said tonelessly.
"I thought so for a while. It was maddening, never knowing where I stood with her. One minute sugar wouldn't melt in her mouth, and the next she'd fly into a rage for no reason. Sometimes she was just plain crazy, taking chances, dragging me into wild adventures. I was either deliriously happy or miserable around her."