The Golden Bell Read Free Page B

and
cranked up the heat. Hot needles of water rained down on her,
heavenly forerunners of a hopefully restful evening. It took three
shampoos and lots of soap, but finally she felt squeaky enough to
leave the shower.
    Borrowing his brush, she worked the tangles
out of her waist length hair, wishing in vain for a hair dryer. His
shirt slid over her bare skin like a caress, making dormant senses
prickle uncomfortably. “Stop it,” she muttered, belting on his
maroon silk robe. “Quit stalling.” She took a deep breath and
opened the door.
    True to his word, he was in the kitchen,
stirring something in a wok. Ignoring her flash of awareness at the
sight of his muscular back, and the way he turned and looked her
over slowly, as if surprised, she cleared her throat. “Mind if I
borrow this?” At his slight headshake, she took his bottle of olive
oil and spread a drop on her palms, rubbing it on her face and
hands. “Dry skin,” she explained at his curious look.
    Nodding, he gestured to the kitchen island
and a plate of raw fruit and veggies. “Help yourself. This will be
done in a minute.”
    Fallon was surprised. He’s suspected she’d
clean up well, but he hadn’t expected sable hair that gently waved
down to a trim little waist. Baggy clothes and sweat-streaked grime
had disguised a clear complexion and nice curves. Full lips and
smoky blue eyes that occasionally glowed green peeked at him warily
from a frame of thick lashes. The girl was hot, and he was
interested. Her fear was a hurdle, but time would cure that.
    A faint whiff of smoke caught his attention.
Saving their dinner before it could burn, he tossed a potholder on
the island and drew up a stool. He’d already set out plates and
sundries, and Rain was making good use of them.
    “Care to pray?”
    His request caught her off-guard. Guiltily
swallowing the bite in her mouth, Rain looked at him expectantly.
With a self-deprecating smile, he moved around the island and
reached for her shoulders.
    She grabbed a fork and spun around, breathing
hard, jabbing the utensil threateningly into this stomach. “What
are you doing?”
    He looked at her strangely. “I was about to
bless the meal.” He looked askance at the fork, then up at her. “Do
you always react this strongly to displays of religion?”
    “You d-don’t have to touch me to pray,” she
said warningly. Touchy-feely men had not been a pleasant part of
her last year.
    “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said slowly,
confidently. Never taking his eyes from hers, he carefully reached
down and closed his hand over hers, directing it away from his
belly. Then, as if she weren’t still quivering with adrenaline, he
softly intoned a short blessing. Releasing her just as leisurely,
he moved away and reclaimed his stool.
    When he said nothing and simply served
himself, she slowly uncoiled. The pattern of the fork was still
imprinted on her hand, but she unclenched it with an act of will
and returned to her eating, keeping a wary eye on him.
    “Wine?” he poured a glass and offered it to
her, then filled his own glass.
    Rain knew about wine. It had little effect on
her kind and went down like water, so she was surprised at the rich
flavor and depth of her first sip. Drawing back, she eyed the
golden liquid, then the decanter in front of Fallon. “This can’t be
wine.”
    “Dark Land wine. Careful, it’s stronger than
you’re accustomed to.” His green eyes were amused.
    Taking the caution to heart, she sipped
curiously at the otherworldly liquid. “What’s it made from?”
    “Dream flowers. It’s a very rare and special
vintage.”
    “What’s the occasion?”
    “Saving a woman is always an occasion.”
    She looked away. “I suppose it was worth it;
I might have known some names, caused some needless deaths.”
    It disturbed him, the scant belief in her
worth. Her expression said death hadn’t been such a fearful thing,
and it was very bad when someone looked at death as a release.
Maybe