Chapter 16

Still, Beau waited, sitting, and finally reclining on the bed as darkness claimed the room. He may have slept—there were phantom snatches of joy when he thought he heard Jeanne-Marie returning, but he never did. When Beau would reach out in the darkness and touch the other pillow on the bed, hoping to feel Jeanne-Marie’s hair or even his scarred skin, there was nothing there but smooth linen.

He supposed that Jeanne-Marie’s tale of trauma and love deserted formed in the man a deep mistrust, one that would simply not allow him to entertain the possibility that someone else could care for him and see beyond what he considered his imperfections. Too, glancing into a mirror and seeing the destruction looking back at him would make it hard to believe someone could fall—romantically—in love with him.

But Beau had.

As he lay alone, yearning, he realized how much he wanted Jeanne-Marie to return, wanted to feel the warmth and power of his embrace.