frowning. “You must have been in agony when it happened!”
The discomfort in his expression eased a little. “They aren’t repulsive?”
“Don’t be silly,” she replied, her hand lifting back to the thick one. “Can I see?” she asked, her blue eyes searching his silver ones.
He was hesitating when Maude came to the doorway. “I’m out of eggs and I want to make a wedding cake. I’ll run to the store. Do you need anything while I’m out?”
“Nothing at all, Maude. Thank you,” Ida said.
Maude smiled at her. “No problem. Oh, and I fed Butler and Wolf. They’re in the kitchen. I’ll make sure I close the back door before I go out.” She hesitated. “Feeling better now?”
Ida nodded and smiled back.
“Okay, then. Won’t be long.”
Her footsteps died as they went down the hall. A minute later the back door opened and closed.
Ida was still looking up at Jake, the question in her eyes.
He’d been self-conscious about the scars for a long time. Even with Mina, whom he loved, he was reticent about speaking of them, much less displaying them. But Ida wasn’t repulsed.
He shrugged and unsnapped the chambray shirt.
When he pulled it aside, Ida’s soft blue eyes winced. The scars were deep, buried now under thick, curling black hair. His chest was broad and muscular, but the scars didn’t distract at all or make him look less sensuous. Ida was surprised at how much she liked looking at him, touching him as she traced the biggest of the scars.
“How?” she asked, looking up to surprise an odd expression on his hard face.
“IED,” he replied. “We were in a convoy. I remember a jolt and a loud noise, as if the world had exploded. I woke up in a hospital in Germany. They said I was out for the better part of a day while they airlifted me from the field hospital.”
“It’s a miracle that you lived, considering where this scar is,” she noted and thought what a loss it would have been to her if he’d died. The thought was painful.
“They had to dig out a lot of shrapnel,” he agreed. “Some of it is still in there, but not close enough to endanger my heart or lungs.” His big hand smoothed over the backs of her long fingers. “I’ve never let a woman see these,” he confessed tautly.
He’d had women. Of course he had. In the dark, so the scars wouldn’t show, because the sort of women he was used to wouldn’t like any physical imperfection.
She drew her fingers away, disturbed by the thoughts filtering through her mind.
“Sorry,” he said curtly. “I keep forgetting how naive you are.”
She looked up at him, her head tilted to one side. “I’ve been married twice,” she began.
“And you don’t know the first thing about men,” he replied, his eyes kind and soft. “I like it,” he added quietly.
She flushed a little. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I’m not used to innocents,” he said simply. “I preferred a different sort of companion, when I was going out and about.”
“Let me guess,” she mused. “Showgirls and jet-setters.”
He chuckled. “More or less.”
She sighed. “Sophisticated, experienced women,” she murmured.
“Exactly. Women who knew how not to get pregnant.”
The flush grew to a wild rose.
He laughed softly. “What an expression.” He moved her fingers back onto his chest, not minding the scars anymore. His cheek nuzzled her dark hair.
“I knew how not to get pregnant, too,” she said, with painful memory.
“Good thing,” he said.
“Yes. Bailey said he didn’t want children, but I was afraid that he might try to get me pregnant. It would have given him a weapon to use against me. I’d have done anything he wanted, to save my child.”
His big hand smoothed her face against him while he tried to ignore the exquisite feel of her soft skin against his bare chest.
“Did you ever enjoy him?” he asked quietly.
“No.” She shivered. “He was so brutal. The first time, it hurt so bad... I screamed and he laughed. He always laughed...”
His arms contracted. “My God!” His lips were tender in her hair.
“I’ll bet you’ve never hurt a woman in your life,” she murmured.
“Never,” he replied.
“I’m so afraid of it,” she confessed in a whisper.
“No wonder.” His chest rose and fell against her while he silently cursed her ex-husband for all he was worth. “I don’t suppose it’s any use telling you that most men don’t get pleasure from hurting a partner.”
“I’ve led an odd life,” she replied. Her eyes were open, looking across his hair-roughened chest to the window