Beautiful Stranger. Ruth WindЧитать онлайн книгу.
her gaze flitted toward Robert. Studying him covertly, she thought his face was kind of harsh, as if that difficult past Ramona hinted at had been etched into the shape of it. His mouth was stern and his eyes watchful, and he had a penetrating way of looking at people, unsmiling and direct in a way most people simply could not tolerate. He did not smile often, unless he was trying to charm someone.
Not someone. A woman. In spite of that dangerous aspect, or more likely because of it, he drew women in a way that amazed her. The first summer he’d lived in Red Creek, he’d worked in a little tourist trap near the grocery store, making tiny feather jewelry from carved rocks. Women did whatever they could to coax a smile from the wry mouth. Old women, young women, girls. All of them.
And he accepted it as his due, with a mocking little glint in his eye that might have made Marissa dislike him, if she hadn’t also been able to sense the sadness behind it, the same vast longing that made Crystal stare so hard out the windows at school, as if looking for a knight on a white horse.
Dangerous, Marissa thought. She’d been doing pretty well these days at avoiding the lost men in the world, focusing instead on saving herself. And the odd kid.
Her sister, Victoria, would have charmed him instantly, Marissa thought suddenly. But not her. Not even now. She didn’t have that femme fatale gene. She was exactly who she appeared to be: open, direct, honest.
Fatty, fatty, two by four, sang a nasally child’s voice in her head. Couldn’t get through the bathroom door.
Robert looked up, caught her staring and raised his chin in her direction, a simple greeting. She looked away, wincing inwardly over the fact that she had, this very afternoon, been thinking he might be slightly interested. Just for a fleeting second his mouth had turned up in a distinctly flirtatious little smile.
Standing, she pointed to Ramona’s plate. “Finished with that? I’ll take it in with me.”
“Thanks.”
Marissa retreated, dropping the paper plates in the trash, then heading for the sanctuary of the wide balcony attached to the back of the house, a wooden deck that overlooked a deep, long valley. At night, only the black zigzag of the mountains against the night sky could be seen. And it was a little cold, but Marissa breathed it in anyway—the stars, so bright and sharp and thick so far from the city, the utter silence of the land. She let go of a breath, relaxing.
Resting her hands lightly on the wooden rail, she looked down at them and smiled ruefully as she admired the new ring she’d had to buy when none of the old ones would stay on her fingers anymore. That had been a rich, rich moment, and she wore the antique circlet of garnets every day to remind herself how far she’d come.
Odd how those old tapes kept playing in her head anyway. She wondered, lifting her chin to drink in the crisp air, how long it would take them to go away.
The glass door slid open behind her, and Marissa turned to see Robert stepping outside. His braid fell over one shoulder. “Hi,” he said, tucking his hands in his pockets. “You mind if I come out with you?”
“Not at all,” Marissa said politely, though of course he was the one she had been escaping.
“I didn’t have a chance to thank you for what you did for Crystal.”
“Oh, don’t mention it, please. Is she better tonight?”
“I think so.” He joined her at the rail. “Bringing her here was a good idea.”
“I’m glad.” Marissa curled her fingers around the railing, willing herself not to look at him. But it didn’t particularly matter—she was still very aware of him, a scent of something fertile, verdant. He was tall and lean, bigger than she had previously noticed. His cocked elbow almost touched her arm. He shifted, hands still tucked lightly into the pockets of his jeans, and said nothing.
But even in the silence, in their stillness, she could feel an electric hum between them, strong enough that she thought she’d see a faint blue light in the air between their bodies if she looked.
The silence stretched. He shifted again, and she half expected—half wanted?—him to go back inside. He didn’t, though. Just kept standing there, radiating that electromagnetic field.
Finally she said, “This is such a peaceful town.”
“Yeah,” he said, and as if he’d only needed an opening he couldn’t come up with himself, added, “I kept thinking I’d leave, you know. Tomorrow. Next week. Next month. Kept somehow waking up here again every day.”
Marissa laughed. “I know the feeling. We used to come here to go skiing when I was a child, and I only came here to spite my father. Somehow I haven’t managed to go anywhere else.”
“How long have you been here?” He eased a little, leaning his elbows on the rail.
She had to think about it. “Seven years? No, eight. I turned down Dartmouth and ran to the Rockies.” She dared to look at him. No crackling blue electricity visible, but there was a nice glissando of light on the crown of his head and his nose. “How about you?”
“Three years. Didn’t intend to stay more than a few weeks, really. But that was when Jake…uh…”
“I remember,” she said to spare him. When Jake had fallen down a cliff and nearly killed himself. “Where are you from originally?”
He raised his head, met her eyes. “Albuquerque.” He said it almost like a dare.
“Is there supposed to be some meaning there? If so, I didn’t catch it.”
“Are you disappointed?”
Startled in a chuckle, Marissa asked, “No, why would I be?”
A slight lift of one shoulder. “White girls always want to hear some romantic tale of the reservation.”
“Ah.” She inclined her head. “Little chip on your shoulder there. Might want to knock it off.”
His teeth showed, just for a second, in the darkness. “I swear it’s true.”
“Well, my disappointment is much more basic. I think you should have a name like…oh, Johnny Blue Raven or something.”
“Ravens are black.” The smile broadened, and Marissa thought the air was definitely beginning to glow a pale blue, just right there around his head. “Where are you from?”
“A castle in Switzerland.”
He laughed. “Touché.”
Marissa liked the sound of that laughter, a little rough and hoarse, as if he didn’t indulge very often. It made her wonder what it would be like to hear him laugh really hard—or if he ever did. “It’s actually true. I was born in a castle in Switzerland.” She smiled. “It was an accident—my mother was supposed to be home, but she had to see these friends.”
“I see. So did you grow up in the castle, too, princess?”
“Not that one, sadly. A much gloomier castle in up-state New York, complete with ghoulish servants and guard dogs.”
“No kidding?”
She rolled her eyes. “It was a mausoleum. My father was sure someone would snatch my sister and I if he let us out of his sight for three seconds, so we didn’t even go to school—he sent tutors in to us.”
He peered at her for a long minute. “No wonder you wanted to break out.”
“Exactly.” She brushed her hair out of her face. “Now you. Where’d you break out of?”
“Hell,” he said without a single beat of hesitation.
Something told her to keep it light. “Pretty hot. I can see why you’d like the mountains.”
She’d surprised him again. His head came up, and there was an expression of measuring in his eyes. “Yeah.” He looked away again, clicking his heel on