unconditionally, like a good parent should, and then she’d read that horrible letter from the woman who had to be talked into giving Cordie life and then couldn’t wait to be rid of her.
You can have her.
Those words were branded in her mind. And there were her father’s desperate pleas in his letters for the love of his life to come back to him. How could her father have loved someone like that?
It was getting late. Cordie collected her papers and books for the next day and slipped them into her satchel, then stood and stretched. The strain of the last few days had taken its toll. The tension in her muscles was working its way upward, and now her head was beginning to throb. Rubbing her temples, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. A long, hot shower was exactly what she needed.
She let the soothing water flow over her tight muscles, and by the time she stepped out of the shower, the tension had eased and her headache was gone. She washed and dried her hair, then put on a short silk nightgown. She was beginning to feel much better and was proud of herself because she had kept it together all evening. She’d done enough of that in the past few days.
She hadn’t been sleeping well lately and hoped tonight would be different. She was so tired now, she thought she might just fall asleep the second her head hit the pillow, but to be sure, she would go down to the kitchen and brew a cup of chamomile tea. Not bothering to put on her slippers, she picked up her silk robe and padded out into the hallway. She was tying the sash on her robe and didn’t notice the box of books she’d left sitting on the landing until she tripped into it, lost her balance, and went flying down the stairs. The box careened down the steps with her, and she landed on her backside with books all around her. It was the last straw in a miserable day. She leaned into the banister and burst into tears. She could have broken her neck, and no one would have known until they found her decomposing body days later. Oh Lord, what a depressing thought. She was so caught up in her misery she didn’t hear the pounding on the door.
Aiden had just climbed the steps to her front door when he heard a commotion and a loud thud coming from inside. He called her name, but there wasn’t any response. About to break in, he realized he hadn’t tried the doorknob. He’d assumed it was locked, but it wasn’t. He rushed inside and was met with the sight of Cordie sobbing as she pushed books off her and tried to get up from the floor.
“Are you hurt?” His worry made him sound angry.
She wasn’t in the mood to be sociable. “Go away.”
“Are you hurt?” He repeated the question, though now his voice was calmer.
“No.”
He rubbed the back of his neck while he studied her. He wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t like Cordelia to be difficult. She always had it together. But not tonight. He picked up the books and stacked them in the box in the corner of the foyer; then he turned back to her. She was still crying. He wanted to tell her to stop.
“Why are you crying?”
Her first inclination was to glare at him, but she was too weary to give it her best effort. She grabbed the banister and, wincing, pulled herself up.
He moved forward and, before she realized his intent, lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs.
“Did you know your front door was unlocked? Anyone could have come in. You live alone, Cordelia. You should make certain your doors are always locked and your alarm is always on,” he scolded as they ascended the steps.
“I don’t have an alarm.”
“You’re getting one,” he snapped.
Aiden’s mind raced with all the terrible things that could have happened to her, and he was furious about her cavalier attitude toward her safety. There was only one bedroom door open and he headed there. He could have put her down, but he didn’t. She weighed next to nothing in his arms. He sat on the side of the bed with her in his lap,
You can have her.
Those words were branded in her mind. And there were her father’s desperate pleas in his letters for the love of his life to come back to him. How could her father have loved someone like that?
It was getting late. Cordie collected her papers and books for the next day and slipped them into her satchel, then stood and stretched. The strain of the last few days had taken its toll. The tension in her muscles was working its way upward, and now her head was beginning to throb. Rubbing her temples, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. A long, hot shower was exactly what she needed.
She let the soothing water flow over her tight muscles, and by the time she stepped out of the shower, the tension had eased and her headache was gone. She washed and dried her hair, then put on a short silk nightgown. She was beginning to feel much better and was proud of herself because she had kept it together all evening. She’d done enough of that in the past few days.
She hadn’t been sleeping well lately and hoped tonight would be different. She was so tired now, she thought she might just fall asleep the second her head hit the pillow, but to be sure, she would go down to the kitchen and brew a cup of chamomile tea. Not bothering to put on her slippers, she picked up her silk robe and padded out into the hallway. She was tying the sash on her robe and didn’t notice the box of books she’d left sitting on the landing until she tripped into it, lost her balance, and went flying down the stairs. The box careened down the steps with her, and she landed on her backside with books all around her. It was the last straw in a miserable day. She leaned into the banister and burst into tears. She could have broken her neck, and no one would have known until they found her decomposing body days later. Oh Lord, what a depressing thought. She was so caught up in her misery she didn’t hear the pounding on the door.
Aiden had just climbed the steps to her front door when he heard a commotion and a loud thud coming from inside. He called her name, but there wasn’t any response. About to break in, he realized he hadn’t tried the doorknob. He’d assumed it was locked, but it wasn’t. He rushed inside and was met with the sight of Cordie sobbing as she pushed books off her and tried to get up from the floor.
“Are you hurt?” His worry made him sound angry.
She wasn’t in the mood to be sociable. “Go away.”
“Are you hurt?” He repeated the question, though now his voice was calmer.
“No.”
He rubbed the back of his neck while he studied her. He wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t like Cordelia to be difficult. She always had it together. But not tonight. He picked up the books and stacked them in the box in the corner of the foyer; then he turned back to her. She was still crying. He wanted to tell her to stop.
“Why are you crying?”
Her first inclination was to glare at him, but she was too weary to give it her best effort. She grabbed the banister and, wincing, pulled herself up.
He moved forward and, before she realized his intent, lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs.
“Did you know your front door was unlocked? Anyone could have come in. You live alone, Cordelia. You should make certain your doors are always locked and your alarm is always on,” he scolded as they ascended the steps.
“I don’t have an alarm.”
“You’re getting one,” he snapped.
Aiden’s mind raced with all the terrible things that could have happened to her, and he was furious about her cavalier attitude toward her safety. There was only one bedroom door open and he headed there. He could have put her down, but he didn’t. She weighed next to nothing in his arms. He sat on the side of the bed with her in his lap,
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