Without Saying a Word Read Free Page B

Street which bustled with shoppers, past the housing estates, over a cattle grid and through the ornate iron gates to Kirkleigh where Rhean’s parents, Earl and Countess Leighton lived. He noticed that Laura turned her face to the window and seemed to be concentrating on the scenery as it changed from town to desolate moorland. The ancient car ate up the miles and after a time, Rhean pulled over into a lay by in the middle of nowhere.
    The moor stretched out endlessly, covered in heather and moss of varying greens and browns. He helped Laura out of the car, then leaned back against the door and crossed his ankles.
    He pointed in the direction of a small, heather-covered hillock in the distance.
    “See that small mound over there?” he asked and watched as Laura looked around. The crisp wind whipped her hair over her face and into her eyes.
    “What? Where?” she asked.
    He sighed dramatically, stalked over to where she stood, and turned her around in the direction he’d pointed.
    “Over there, where that bunch of heather is. You can see that, right?”
    “Yes I can. And?”
    “I want you to walk over there, take a few deep breaths and then scream. Yell, swear, curse, even blow a raspberry,” Rhean instructed her
    “I beg your pardon?” She sounded taken aback at his instruction.
    “Over on that mound,” Rhean repeated patiently. “I want you to take some deep breaths, then let every bit of frustration, anger, hurt and any other emotion out. Do it loud. There is no one around to hear, apart from Woolly over there,” he told her, his glance falling onto a lone sheep on the other side of the road. The sheep munched away on the grass.”Somehow I don’t think he will mind. Now go!” 
    Laura half-smiled at his quip.
    The cold north wind teased the curls of his ebony hair around his head, which he knew made him look younger and more carefree than his thirty-four years. He rolled his eyes when Laura stood still, and pointed again towards the distant hillock. He mouthed, “Go.” Then he crossed his muscled arms and ankles.
    ****
    Laura trudged through the prickly grass and heather toward the mound that Rhean pointed out, felt the cold wind in her hair, and saw the absolute wonder that brought her to this part of the country. She pulled her thick coat around her, and huddled deep into its collar, as the wind whipped the copper strands around her face. Words to describe the moors flooded her mind—ethereal, constant, and unending. The grass and heather stretched out before her. Clouds above her danced through the sky in a rhythm as old as time. She eventually came to the hillock and climbed it. Laura took deep breaths; in...out...in...out. She tried to keep the tears back, but it didn’t happen. They fell again. Misery, hurt, betrayal, and anger bubbled inside her as if she were a shaken bottle of Coke. More deep breaths, then finally, the bottle exploded. She raised her face to the sky and yelled her hurt and despondent feelings out, as tears rained down her face. Her scream faded away as the gentle perfumed breeze gained in strength and a slow drizzle began to fall and mix with her tears, as if the weather were in sympathy with her. She yelled again.  This time, abject frustration took the place of the hurt and sadness that had fled her emotion-torn body. After taking more deep breaths, her yells eventually ebbed away to nothingness. Drained, her throat raw Laura bent down and put her hands on her knees, and gulped down the cold, fresh, pure moor air as it revitalized her.
    Laura’s breathing calmed as a strong arm encompassed her, drawing her into the warmth and safety of Rhean’s wide chest. The rough texture of his duffle coat tickled her nose as she snuggled into his body. She inhaled his fresh masculine scent, allowing herself for the first time in ages, to be comforted. In Rhean’s arms there was safety, security and perhaps even peace. As Laura’s emotions settled, her body sagged into the strength