see her, and there were things they needed to discuss. “Won’t you sit down?” She nodded toward the sofa. “You must be exhausted. I hear you sat with me last night.”
The edges of his eyes mirrored his smile. She liked that. “You are our star witness,” he replied, then waited for her to sit before he perched on the edge of the horsehair sofa. “The doctor’s chair is not as comfortable as a bed,” he agreed. “But I have slept on worse.”
“I’m sure.”
Awkwardness filled the silence between them. There wasn’t an artful or diplomatic way to ask. Mary Rose took a breath and said, “Were you able to find them? Their, their bodies?”
“Yes.”
She could hear the relief in his word. It empowered her to continue. “The undertaker has them?” She watched him nod. “I suppose I should go and make the arrangements. I thought a small church service would be—”
“No.”
Her lungs contracted. She stared for a moment, processing the word, and then her brows arched.
His mouth became firm, and his eyes glanced down at his feet.
“No,” he repeated once more, in a kinder manner. “There will be no church service.”
A bit of anger laced her soul. “No service,” she repeated with a bite to her words. “You come in and tell me how to bury my own brother?”
“Miss Thornton.” His voice spoke with underlying firmness, and her anger twisted. “Your dead needs to be buried, and as quickly as possible.”
“I don’t...” she began.
Seeing her bewilderment, he continued. “Your brother should be buried,” he began again. “The body has already begun—” Words failed him. He stared at his hat, still clutched in his right hand. He let out a pent-up breath, then laid the hat on the sofa next to him. “I am not doing this well,” he said.
Suddenly she realized what he hesitated to say. Daniel’s body had begun to decay. Her hand fluttered against her lips. Mary Rose shuddered at the thought. She needed time to adjust, to think. She stood and turned away as a raw pull tugged at her heart. “I-I wasn’t thinking,” she whispered.
“Miss Thornton…”
She heard him rise and step close. His hand touched her shoulder, and her skin warmed to his touch. Only a few inches separated them. Her gaze found his mouth, then those warm blue eyes. Her anger faded, replaced by something she couldn’t describe. As she stared, the dark onyx of the rim grew wider, the color deepened. His hand rose from her shoulder to cradle her cheek. Instinctively, she turned into it, savoring his tenderness.
“Forgive my stumbling words.” His husky voice was like cool water soothing away the raw ache of her loss. “Both Sheriff Weston and I feel it best to have a graveside service tomorrow afternoon.”
A tear slid from her eye. His thumb whisked it away.
“Mi Querida,” he whispered.
His breath brushed softly past her skin as he drew her close. She reached out and pressed her palm against his chest. Her fingers picked up the thump of his heart, and hers slowed to beat in unison. Her lashes swept to her cheek, and she inhaled a shattered breath as his lips touched the path of her tear with a soft, feathery kiss.
As if anticipating his next move, she dampened her lips with the tip of her tongue and heard a low rumble generate from his chest. Ever so lightly, his lips moved across hers. From one edge, near a dimple, he traced along the smooth lines of her mouth to the other side and back again, nibbling, tasting, and bringing her joy. She could feel the change in her body. The rapid staccato of her heartbeat filled her ears as she leaned in to him.
Beneath the cotton of her gown, her breasts seemed to grow heavy. He slid his tongue along the opening of her mouth, and fire erupted just below the pit of her belly. Without instruction, she tilted her head to give him better access and prepared to surrender to this treat. Much to her disappointment, he pulled away. A soft cry wrenched from her lips. Her fingers dug into the cloth of his shirt as she brought strength back to her weakened knees. Her eyes still closed, she could hear him take his own ragged breaths and felt the warm brush of his breath as it passed her cheeks.
“I should not have done that,” he mumbled.
Liar, she thought, but caught his look of chagrin. She looked down at her hand and released the crumpled fistful of