cold and with her fear, her arms wrapped around herself, the breast-deep water chilling her to the bone now that the sun had gone all the way down.
Nick stared at her with a combination of sorrow and lust. She did not see a reasonable man when she looked at him; she saw the same monster that she saw in every man. He had seen the way she flinched away from every male she came into contact with on the farm. Even the fourteen-year-old Tommy unnerved her. She cut the same wide berth around every man, and it hurt him to his soul to see the pain in her beautiful eyes.
“Please,” he said softly, in the same low, soothing voice that Maggie had heard him use one day on a skittish bay mare. “I promise I will not come any nearer. I will give you my shirt to dry on, and while I turn my back, you can get dressed. I will not hurt you. I will not hurt you, Maggie.”
Slowly, never taking his eyes from hers, he unbuttoned his cotton shirt and laid it on the ground in front of him. Her wide eyes stared at his naked chest in fascination, at the curly pelt of hair that grew riotously all over it and arrowed down into his pants. Maggie felt a flutter in her chest as he turned away and moved forward a couple of feet.
“Go ahead, get out and dry off,” he said gently. “I will not turn back around until you say.”
She crept slowly, hesitantly, toward the shore, each step a gift of her trust, her wet hem slapping against her bare calves. Maggie felt hot all over as she thought about how she had been behaving. Like a wanton, like a whore, she thought in self-loathing. He will make me leave now, he will. Oh god, what will I do? Trembling, she reached for the shirt and began to dry herself, never taking her eyes from the strong muscles of his back. The cloth of the shirt was still warm from his body, and a musky, pleasant scent clung to it. She put it to her nose, and smelled deeply. It was his scent, the smell of his body, and she trembled again, suddenly weak. The pit of her stomach felt funny, heavier somehow, and it scared her. She fumbled for her dress and pulled it over her head recklessly, with no heed for fastenings or her tangled hair. Maggie bit back her cry as she backed slowly away from him, moving toward the wood. Where were her shoes? she thought in panic. She could do without the stockings, but those were her only shoes.
“Maggie,” he called. “Don’t run away. I can hear you. I want to talk to you. Please do not leave.”
Her heart started to race. She clutched his shirt against her chest and tried to think. He was her employer. If he told her to stay, then stay she must.
“What . . .” she started, then stopped when her voice broke. She shivered again and looked around. The clearing which had seemed so serene and welcoming before was sinister to her now. The old tree seemed twisted and grotesque to her now, threatening and frightening. The green branches were black in the absence of light and they no longer whispered to her, they hissed malevolently. She could not seem to stop shaking.
Nick was facing her now, and she started violently when he took a step forward.
“No!” she whimpered when he reached out a hand to her. “Please, please, I will go back to the house, I will do whatever you want, I promise!”
“Oh, Maggie,” he breathed. “You can do whatever you want in the evenings.” His dark eyes glittered at her in the moonlight. He seemed struck with some fierce emotion. “I am not going to hurt you.” His voice dropped an octave. “I want to escort you home. You need to get warm. I won’t touch you, I will just point out the way. I will get Ned for you, if you feel more comfortable with him.”
He was holding out his hand to her, his strong, brown, capable hand that could hurt her so easily. Maggie ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. She saw him take a step nearer, and she was frozen in place. She sucked in a breath, and he stopped moving, making no effort to mask his sorrow from her.
“Whatever it is, I did not cause it,